Ecumenical child of divorce

While I was on vacation last week, I finished reading Sir Walter Scott's excellent book The Abbot. Scott is one of those writers who, when I pick up one of his novels after not having read anything by him in some time, I inevitably think to myself, "Why don't I read him more often?" His work is so easy to read and so entertaining for all the right reasons.

The Abbot, if you're not familiar with it, is historical fiction. The overarching historical event is the imprisonment and subsequent, short-lived escape of Mary, Queen of Scots. Mary, who was Catholic, was imprisoned in Loch Leven Castle. In Scott's story, a young man who is secretly the child of a Catholic family is planted in the household of a Protestant family of prominence who eventually make him part of Mary's retinue to keep an eye on her, but of course he instead helps Mary effect her ill-fated escape. Throughout the novel, the main character, having had his religious education split between two factions of Christianity, has difficulty forming a solid allegiance to or disavowal of either and seeks alternately the counsel of both Catholic priests and Protestant ministers, leading to some interesting passages on theology.

The discord between Catholicism and Protestantism, of course, consumed much of early English history, with monarchs seated and dethroned on the basis of their brand of Christianity, the result being that those whose religious practice was not in step with the current ruler found themselves worshipping in secret or setting off for distant lands where their views were tolerated or were the norm.

I'm not sure whether to feel encouraged or weary when I think about that history and the parallels I see in modern Western Christianity. On the one hand, I'm strangely and sadly encouraged by the realization that we haven't reached some new level of ridiculousness; nothing, after all, is new under the sun. And, of course, I'm weary when I realize that, lo these many years later, we are still waging the same wars, just sometimes with different names. This or that pastor or leader or writer says something that others disagree with and, instead of reasoned debate or gentle reproof, we unleash a torrent of vitriol. Sigh. I think I have decided on weary.

Don't get me wrong here. I'm not saying that we should throw doctrine out the window and all just sing Kumbaya (although it does bring back some rather fond memories of junior high). But it seems to me sometimes that even in Christian circles we spend more time slinging accusations around like mud and valuing snarkiness more than actual Godliness. Can't we leave all that to the politicians?

All this is why the following short passage from The Abbot struck me as so true and sad and fitting.  The setting is the battlefield, where Mary's supporters meet the supporters of the Regent, James Stewart:

"God and the Queen!" resounded from the one party; "God and the King!" thundered from the other; while, in the name of their sovereign, fellow-subjects on both sides shed each other's blood, and, in the name of their Creator, defaced his image.

Monday devo: A new normal

A few weeks ago I was in a situation where I suddenly realized the person I was talking to thought I had just said the most bizarre thing. I was describing something that seemed perfectly normal to me and I could tell he thought it sounded completely abnormal. Slightly embarrassed, I laughed it off with, "Almost everyone in my family is like that. It doesn't seem odd when it's normal in your family."

I was talking about a physical oddity. But I've seen the same sort of thing happen in families with emotional and behavioral oddities. Like that frog you always heard about in science class as a kid, sitting in a pot of cold water that gradually comes to a boil without the frog having noticed, we become acclimated to the environment around us. Often, the weirdness of our situation doesn't occur to us until we see ourselves through others' eyes.

As I thought of this today, I was reminded of Jesus' words to his followers: "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

Really, Jesus? Love? That's it? That seems so, well, normal. So ordinary. How on earth is that going to send out a signal that we're your followers?

But of course, it's not normal at all. Normal is discord, and jealousy, and self-centeredness. Normal is greed, and gossip, and exploitation. Normal is sin.  Love, meanwhile, is so essentially a divine quality that the apostle John proclaimed that "God is love."

This is not to say that people who follow Christ have the love thing figured out. We're human (read, "normal"). And often we act in perfectly normal ways. But when we can get love right, really right, it has a powerful effect, shining a light not on us but on the one we are following.

And if get love right often enough and for long enough, who knows -- maybe it will start to feel normal to us.

Korean Child of Divorce

I've been waiting for this for so long, it almost didn't seem real anymore. Until I arrived home from a trip on Friday and found a package waiting for me. Four new copies of Child of Divorce, Child of God -- in Korean! The cover is beautiful, even if I have no idea what it says.

If you or someone you know reads Korean and would be blessed by this book, it is available from IVP Korea. 

Monday devo: The scandal of worship

Every year about this time, I pull out my DVD of Jesus Christ Superstar. Watching it has become an Easter tradition for me. I prefer the stylized, artful presentation of the last days of Jesus to the blood and gore versions that have become popular in recent years. And, yes, I realize that there is a good deal of theological fallacy in the screenplay. After all, Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice are not exactly Billy Graham and George Beverly Shea.

One of my favorite scenes in the movie is the scene that takes place on Palm Sunday, the Sunday before Jesus' crucifixion, the Sunday we just celebrated here in 2014.  My brother's family were staying with me this weekend and over breakfast, I explained to my three-year-old nephew that this was the Sunday that Jesus came to Jerusalem and that when he got to Sunday school this morning he would be given a palm branch to wave, just like the ones that people waved and threw down in front of Jesus' donkey so many years ago.

In the movie version that I have, the one from 2000, instead of palm branches the people are carrying signs, the sort of signs that you see at rallies and protests, featuring a picture of Jesus and the words "Jesus Rules." They carry Jesus into the city on their shoulders, like a rock star, or a superstar. Their exuberance and celebration is over the top, unseemly in a way, for someone who is supposed to be a religious leader.  It's scandalous, and part of me always feels just a tiny hint of sympathy for the Pharisees who are looking on this spectacle and feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

That small twinge of sympathy is always followed by a dose of conviction. Not because I felt sympathetic, but because my worship of Jesus rarely if ever rises to the level of scandalous.  I would happily stand at the side of the road and politely wave a palm branch. But would I lift the Savior onto my shoulders, parade him around, while holding a giant sign that proclaims my adoration?  Of course, neither of these are happening in a literal sense in my life in 2014. But I fear that too often I let my faith become polite, never rising to anything close to exuberance or scandal.

I'm not saying that I feel the need to jump around and shout. But I am saying that occasionally my beliefs, my lifestyle, my faith should strike someone as a little extreme. As in, "Sure, you're religious, but do you have to take it that far? Can't you just reel it back in a little and be politely, nondescriptly spiritual, without all this Jesus stuff?"

Actually, no, I can't. Because the truth is, in both a literal and figurative sense, Jesus rules. Hosanna.

Monday devo: A How-To Guide for Transitions

We all experience transitions in life, right? Maybe it's a job change or a move to a new place. A wedding, a divorce, a death, a break-up. A new baby, a new boss, a new pet. Every four years, we have the chance to elect a new president for our country and when that happens transition teams are set up to make the hand off from one leader to the next smooth and seamless.

Children of divorce experience lots of transition. One parent moving out, moving to a new house, a new school, a new stepparent, new stepsiblings, and the constant back and forth transition of visitation or shared custody. If the transition itself is handled well, the road forward is a whole lot smoother.

The Bible gives one of the greatest examples of transition at the end of Deuteronomy. After wandering the desert for forty years, the Israelites had finally arrived at the cusp of the Promised Land. Moses was going to stay behind, climb a mountain, watch his people enter their new home, and then transition from this life to the next. But his wasn't the only transition. The people, these thousands upon thousands of tired, excited, human people, were about to experience multiple transitions at once. They were leaving a life of nomadism and embarking on a life of settlement and all the war and hardship that come with settling in a land that others have already made a home in. On top of all that, their beloved leader who had been the only leader most of them had ever known was about to leave them while some other guy took his place. Handling that hand off badly could have spelled disaster for the people. But instead here's what happened.

First, Moses gave the people a pep talk. In Deuteronomy 31:1-6, he tells them that he's leaving them, but assures them that God is with them, that they have a great new leader, and that they'll be victorious in their new mission.  Then, he calls Joshua to the platform and, in front of all the people, he tells Joshua that he is the new leader, that he will lead the people to success, and that God will be with him.  It's a real "rah! rah!" moment.

But then something interesting happens. God calls Moses and Joshua aside and has a little chat with them, out of earshot of the people. In verses 16-21, God tells it like it is: Before Moses is cold in his grave, the people will be worshipping other gods, they will fall into chaos, and God will rain down punishment on them. Sounds rather harsh -- but then again, God wasn't being a naysayer; he simply knew the future.

Here's what I love about this story. Moses, the beloved leader, gives the motivational speeches out in public, for all the Israelites to hear. Then, in private, behind the closed doors of a pillar of cloud and a tabernacle, Joshua, the new leader, gets the real story. The people are left encouraged, Joshua is teed up to have a great start with them, and then he is given a reality check by the one person who could see the future.

Too often, transitions include one of these elements but not the other. Either we're all trombones and marching bands, or we're all gloom and doom and steel yourself for the worst.  This story shows how to achieve a happy medium. Yes, let's have some encouragement and motivation to get everyone on board and ready to face the future. And yes, let's have some honest conversation about the challenges ahead. But let's do both in the right way, at the right time, and with the right people present. How we handle the transition can make all the difference.

'Til Death Do Us Part

This article on Gwyneth Paltrow's choice of words regarding her divorce from Chris Martin struck me as interesting for two reasons.

First, the author starts out sounding like she is all for the idea of a kinder, gentler divorce, especially because as a child of divorce herself, she struggles with feeling like her family is broken. But then by the end of the article, she reveals that she is troubled by the thought that one could enter marriage with the idea that it is a transitory relationship.

But without even the intention to make it for the long haul, won’t relationships end even earlier? To me, adding an escape clause to the highest level of commitment would only weaken it.

Good point.

The other interesting thing I found in this article was how worldview played into the conscious uncoupling concept. The article has a link to a post on Paltrow's web site by Habib Sadeghi, in which "he mentions how mating for life was easier when life was shorter. Since cavemen lived till their early 30s, they could stay together till death do them part, no problem."

Of course, if one holds a slightly different worldview, say one that involves guys like Methuselah and Noah trudging along through life for 969 and 950 years respectively, a paltry 50 or 60 years of marriage should seem like a real piece of cake.

Finding the right one...

...even if it's the second time around. Diane Paddison is an author and founder of a nonprofit that encourages women in their faith, career, and relationships. In her book Work, Love, Pray, she was refreshingly candid about the failure of her first marriage. Having gotten a second chance at love, in this article on her blog, she talks about how to make a wise decision when it comes to relationships and marriage.

Without a Trace

It's been a rough year for country star Trace Adkins, so perhaps this is no surprise. One does though wonder if he and his wife of 16 years are going to be finding new meaning in the words of his song, "You're Gonna Miss This."

Whispers of truth about divorce

These images speak for themselves.

Monday devo: Shadows of death, sunbeams of heaven

I know, this is a blog about divorce, not death. But in the book, I tell the story of a child of divorce who described his parents' divorce as being like a death that never ended.  And truly, divorce is the death of a marriage and of many hopes and dreams for the couple, their children, their families, and their friends.

So, during this season leading up to Good Friday and Easter, it seems appropriate to talk about death, especially on a blog about divorce.

Last week, I was meditating on the twenty-third Psalm, the one so often read at funerals or printed on the little memorial cards handed out at funerals.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Excuse the Shakespearean English, but I learned these verses as a very young girl in the King James Version and they just don't sound right to my ears in other translations.

Maybe it's the inundation of social media; maybe it's the fact that I (and most of my friends) are on the other side of the hill; maybe it's just coincidence or heightened perception -- but it seems like there is an awful lot of death, and walks through valleys of shadows of death, all around me.

And yet, when I thought of these words last week, it occurred to me that this could easily be what is referred to as a Messianic psalm -- a psalm about Jesus, as much as it is about the writer or about us the readers.

Who better than Jesus knows what it is like to walk through the deep, dark valley gloomed over with shadows of death? And if ever anyone had reason to fear evil in that moment, it was Jesus, knowing as he did that he was about to wear the mantle of humanity's sin in all of its wretchedness and depravity while hanging on a device of torture, on public display, while insults were hurled at him. Somehow after wrestling with this coming reality in Gethsemane, he found comfort.

He ate a meal in the presence of an enemy, one who would betray him to his death for a price. During his short earthly life, goodness and mercy followed Jesus around like the most devoted of his disciples.

And, the good news for Jesus, the good news for all of us who look forward to an Easter Sunday after Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, the good news for everyone who has ever or will ever trudge through a valley filled with shadows of death, is that Jesus walked straight through the shadow and came out on the other side to live in the sun-drenched house of the Lord forever.

Alleluia.

Conscious uncoupling

Well, that's one way to put it.

Monday devo: God in the Rearview Mirror

I had intended to write the Monday devo last night or early this morning, having a topic in mind; but that topic will wait for another week. My procrastination has paid off, which writers are always hoping will happen but rarely does.

As I left work today, I had a little car trouble -- the kind of trouble that requires a trip to a mechanic, quickly, with as little mileage between trouble and mechanic as possible. I called my mechanic brother (who, sadly, lives in another state; how did I let that happen?) who has started replying to my car questions with a knowing "yeah." As in, "Yeah, your car is at that stage of its barely useful life where these things are bound to happen. Get used to it." Great.

To top it all off, I couldn't just drop the car at the shop and hitch a ride home with a co-worker. I'm scheduled to be on the road tomorrow for work. Talk about crummy timing. The plan originally was for me to drive my own car, but now, at 5:30 on a Monday (of course) my assistant and I were scrambling to call the repair shop (open until 6:00, whew!) and the car rental place (also open until 6:00, and with a car available, whew again!). Kind soul that she is, my assistant followed me to the shop and then dropped me at the car rental place.

My thought process through all of this was decidedly grumpy. Of all the bad luck, something like this has to happen the night before a business trip, adding complication to an already irritating situation. (And, bonus, I left both pairs of sunglasses in my car at the shop, so I had to stop at Target on my way home and buy a new pair.)

But as I drove home, enjoying new car smell and XM radio (guess I don't have to bring any cassette tapes with me tomorrow), suddenly I realized this was actually the best possible scenario.

I always have the option of renting a car for these work trips. I just usually choose to drive my own car because it's familiar and comfortable and less hassle. And since I'm leaving early and not expecting to make it back before the rental place closes at 6:00, I had to reserve it for two nights -- which means the repair shop has two full days to keep my car while I have a rental that is paid for by work. Talk about perfect timing.

In the book, I wrote about a time when Moses was up on the mountain with God. Moses was discouraged and God decided to cheer him up by letting Moses see Him. Only not face to face. No, God put Moses into a hole in a rock and then walked past in such a way that Moses only got to see His back. That was about all the glory anyone could take, at least if they wanted to live to tell about it.  I talked in the book about how some Jewish rabbis of yore had speculated that this was a metaphor of sorts, that seeing God's back might be a way of saying that Moses got to see where God had just been. And then I talked about how we so often experience God this way. We don't know what He's about to do. We rarely figure out what He's up to in the midst of our daily circumstances. But sometimes, we get to see it all in hindsight, smack our foreheads with our palms, and say, "Okay, now I get it!"

In other words, like I did today, sometime we see God in the rearview mirror.

Love, Hawaiian Style

I posted a few weeks ago about a recent episode of Hawaii Five-O that featured Danny, a.k.a. Danno, learning that his parents are about to divorce and then talking about his own divorce with his young daughter.

The story line continued this week with Danny and daughter conspiring to get his parents to reconcile. What child of divorce hasn't fantasized that story line?  (Blame it on The Parent Trap if you want.)

As a total side note, not that I can picture Melanie Griffiths playing James Caan's wife, but wouldn't it have been kind of fun if they'd been able to get Danno's real life dad to play his on-screen dad? Just a thought.

Forgiving the was-band

Kristin Armstrong, ex-wife of cycler Lance Armstrong, speaks about parenting children of divorce in the midst of crisis, something the Armstrong family knows a little about.

What not to do as a divorced parent

The further down in this article I read, the worse I felt for these kids. Watching your parents duke it out over ridiculous amounts of money is bad enough; seeing it splashed on the news is worse; dealing with the drama described here is...well, sad.

Little People, Big Marriage Problems

The stars of "Little People, Big World" are attempting a trial separation. Putting your family through the rigors of reality TV has been a tough gig for more families than the Roloffs. Here's hoping they can work things out and find a way to keep this 26 year marriage together.

Monday devo: A shelter from the dogs of night

For the last few years I have volunteered as a guardian ad litem for kids in foster care. As you might guess, many of them come from homes scarred by divorce. The situations are as unique as the individuals involved, but the kids who keep you awake at night, long after the cases are closed, are the ones dealing with physical abuse.

Tonight I was reading Psalm 59 and thought of these kids and all the kids out there -- foster kids, children of divorce, kids with married parents -- who face abuse. David repeats a refrain about the perpetrators, those who "come at night, snarling like vicious dogs as they prowl the streets." You get the picture.

But as David often does, he refocuses his attention, away from peril and toward the God who can rescue him from peril. "For you, O God, are my place of safety." "But as for me, I will sing about your power, I will shout with joy each morning because of your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety in the day of distress." Yes, there is distress. There are snarling dogs on the loose. But there is a safe harbor, a place where love wins, a place where joy becomes a possibility.

These are words that I hope for every child, every adult, who fears for their safety at the hands of another.  And I love that the header to the psalm says that it is "to be sung to the tune 'Do Not Destroy!'" How perfect is that?

Paperback writer

Child of Divorce, Child of God is available as an e-book, but it is officially out of print in paperback. There are some copies available from used booksellers on Amazon.  If you want a brand, spanking new copy, straight from the author (that's me), go to Amazon and search the "used and new" sellers for a seller called "littleponci." You'll order and pay through Amazon and then Amazon will email me with your address and I'll ship your order directly to you.  Easy-peasy.

There's an app for that

Anything that helps divorced parents have less conflict is a good thing. Check out this article about an app that helps make the financial side of divorce with children a little easier and less acrimonious.

College-bound child of divorce

There's been a lot of chatter the last week or so about the case in New Jersey of a girl suing her parents for child support and college costs, among other things. This article discusses some of the state laws that affect parents when it comes to paying for college. Rules vary from state to state, but in some states where parents generally have the right to tell the kids that they're on their own when it comes to paying for college, divorced parents may find themselves footing the bill.

When I took Family Law last year, this topic generated some interesting discussion. Basically, the idea is that divorced, noncustodial parents statistically tend to drift away from their kids and not provide for them to the same extent that married or custodial parents do. Requiring noncustodial parents to pay for college is seen as a way of remedying that situation and leveling the playing field for those kids.