addicted

For the first year we were married, my husband was a fireman. He was gone 1 out of every 3 nights. Then he got a job where he was gone a lot more than that. We had a 3-4 year break from traveling next. But that was 15 years ago. He had been traveling again up until about a year and a half ago. Suddenly they changed his job and he is almost always home. And I am addicted to his presence.

Last night he had to go to Houston. And I cannot sleep without him any more. I do not even get sleepy. On a normal night, I am fading fast at 10pm and out by 11. Last night I was wide awake at 1:30 am. So I gave in and crawled on his side of the bed and tried to smell his pillow and pretend he was there. Even if he is making me crazy or we are angry at each other, I need him there. And I probably fell asleep about 2:30am.

So I am addicted to the man and it is a good thing. One flesh.

Calcification

I am re-reading Metamorpha by Kyle Strobel. It is my third attempt to get through this book. There is so much meat in it that I haven't gotten finished with it yet. Once again I am struck deeply by something on page 20.

Sometimes we need a new way of seeing.

Cassie had an experience similar to mine She recalls the struggle she had in seminary when she was re-introduced to God: "I remember crying silently in the back row in several classes as I watched in horror the God that I knew and loved being smashed to pieces as professors unwittingly dismantled my view of God, blow after painful blow." A professor who understood and related to Cassie's experience offered a story he thought might help her. In Cassie's own words:

I will never forget the moment Professor Anderson captured this experience with a story that eased my pain. He told his systematic theology class about a woman who, in her later years of life, decided to begin playing piano. She searched for the best piano teacher she could possibly find ans asked him how she could become a master pianist such as himself. He looked hesitantly at her, asking if she was sure she warned to do this. He explained to her that at her age, the woman's bones had naturally calcified and were configured in a certain way. To play the piano, she would need to engage in finger exercises that would break this calcium down, thereby, giving her supple, flexible fingers that would allow her to extend to various keys. He warned her that the finger exercises and the calcium breakdown would be excruciatingly painful, as if her fingers were being smashed.

Cassie soon realized that her spiritual calcification was being broken down. Because of her presuppositions, Cassie needed not only to learn about God but also to unlearn what she falsely believed about God. Cassie believed she could just tack on new information about God to what she already had. Unfortunately, what we erroneously believe about God is often solidified and unyielding, so it is painful to break down.

It feels like I am going through a decalcification process too. Sitting in church each week feels painful sometimes and I try to decipher truth apart from my presuppositions. Or perhaps on top of them. A couple of friends visited our new church a couple of weeks ago and I felt defensive about what the pastor said, hoping they would like him too, hoping I wasn't in the wrong place. Their approval meant way too much to me. God has come out of the box that I have had him in and He feels so big and incomprehensible. This box was defined and rigid and clear. Not it just feels wild and untamed.

Anger

It must be the topic of the week - anger. So I decided to jump in too. I got mad.... no, furious at a friend this week. He was talking to my husband in our garage. He was talking about a subject I despise, his latest end of the world scenario. I asked him not to do it in front of me. I was strong in telling him that. I could have just gone upstairs and hidden while he was here but instead I stood up for myself and asked him not to. And he ignored me! I put up a barrier of protection for myself and he crashed through it to tell me more. His arrogance floored me. In my house, he treated me like a child - an ignorant child who needed to be scolded and told what was what.

I stood there and listened until I could get away. The fear he stirred up in me is not healthy. But it is biblical, according to him. He made me feel stupid and small. But the truth is he was being an arrogant jerk. And he wonders why people don't listen to him.

I remember feeling this angry a few times when I was a teenager. Once a boss talked to me like this. I was so mad that the top of my scalp tingled.

"In your anger do not sin:"
"for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires"

I believe my friend acts this way because he is an angry man. I am the child of an angry man. I don't know what to do with angry men, but I am trying to feel what I feel and not sin. I want to be what God desires but it is such a hard place.