Pardon my slag, I'm being refined

I'm blessed enough to be able to look back on childhood with lots of great memories. No one's childhood is perfect, but mine was pretty darn good. As an only child, my loving parents lavished attention on me. No siblings to fight with, just a huge collection of toys and pets. Always a nice home in a safe neighborhood with a splendid backyard. Many great family vacations year-round. Aside from some recollections of my mom's health being up and down and feeling painfully shy at school, life was a cakewalk.

At age 12 and 14, I received two sisters. Now I didn't have unlimited attention from my parents, but I grew to adjust. And life continued to be great. No money problems, no bad grades, no big worries. In high school I had good clean fun and a bunch of loyal friends. And a stable youth group and a relationship with God. It was in that youth group that I remember singing these words during worship:

Purify my heart

Let me be as gold and precious silver

Purify my heart

Let me be as gold, pure gold

Refiners fire

My heart's one desire is to be holy,

set apart for you Lord

I choose to be holy,

set apart for you my master

Ready to do your will

I remember singing those words with all the passion and sincerity in my heart. And at that time, I really did want to be set apart for God, I really did want to be purified. I was really naive.

Seventeen years later, after mistakes and broken hearts, after commitment to my husband "in sickness and in health," after dealing with the frustrations I didn't anticipate with marriage and motherhood, I sometime yell up at God, "What are you DOING right now in my life!?" Lately, the reply is one word: REFINEMENT. And that's when the memory of singing at youth group comes flooding back. Standing there at age 15, singing wholeheartedly with my eyes closed, longing for God to be present in my life. I truly wanted it, but did I realize what I was asking for? No! How could I? Life back then was really easy and I had not yet hit the reality of big decision-making and consequences in my life. Refinement was not all that painful.

But today I wince in the fire.

Have you ever studied the process of refining metal? In biblical times it involved applying heat until the metal melted, then straining out the impurities, or slag, that rose to the top. This process would repeat over and over again. Even with today's modern methods, purification still involves applying extremely high temperatures, as well as electrical currents, acid baths, and noxious gasses. And the process is still very slow.

What a wonder that something so beautiful and costly comes from a process where it is pulverized, liquefied, attacked, and broken down OVER and OVER until it becomes 99.999 percent pure. And just like it can never be 100 percent pure, neither can we ever be 100 percent perfect, even though being Christlike is our aim. Now I take a look back at some of those lyrics a little bit more carefully:

"Refiner's fire..."

I was singing softly and sweetly about fire. FIRE! A destructive element. Being toasted over and over again. Ouch!

"My heart's one desire is to be holy..."

My ONE desire? Gosh, I wish it was to be holy, but sometimes my heart's one desire is whatever is in front of me: money, a better looking whatever, endless scrapbook supplies....

"...set apart for you my master, ready to do your will."

One thing I am often guilty of is NOT setting myself apart for God so that I am ready to do His will, but rather throwing myself into the big stressed out moment. Or just seeking out temporary distractions.

So when I wonder why my life is full of trails, should I really be all surprised? I was ASKING for refinement all those years ago....and I still do. Everyone has their own fires to go through. For me there's been depression, disappointment, anxiety, loss of loved ones, the death of dreams, the day to day ordinary stresses that alone are no big deal, but repeating day after day seem intolerable...The impurities that are being burned away? How about greed, worry, anger, selfishness (a big one). The gold that will be brought forth if I am willing to let go of the slag...love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.

I can't lie. This refinement thing is scaring me. But it comforts me too. When I wonder what my life's purpose is...refinement. When I wonder why bad things keep happening...refinement. When I wonder how I am ever to to achieve contentment...refinement.

It's not bad luck. It's not karma. It's the Refiner's fire. And I can't tell you how it all turns out yet. Because I am still being refined.

Measurement

As a mother of young kids, it is understandable that I use a unique language for describing abstract concepts. Take measurement, for instance. Before kids can fully grasp how long a minute feels, or how long a foot is, they develop their own description of measurement. When my son was two, he used to measure anything in elephants. Not just expected things, like height and weight, but also other non-pachyderm things, like lengths of time and food portions. Heck, he even measured FEELINGS and OPINIONS with elephants.

"How exciting was that movie, Wyatt?"

"Oh, it was like 3 ELEPHANTS GOOD!"

"How are you feeling today, Wyatt?"

"I'm feeling as good as 75 ELEPHANTS!!!"

My son is five now and struggling to grasp some kindergarten concepts, particularly the passage of time. He has not quite got the hold of how long half-an-hour is, or what day of the week we are on. But he's learning. His personal concepts of measurement remain, but now he measures time in a more sophisticated manner...in Curious George episodes. Just this morning I let him pick a 20-minute 80's cartoon about video games.

"How long is this show mom?"

"About 20 minutes"

"How many Curious Georges is that?"

"A little more than one."

"One whole show? Or one story?"

There are two 15-minute stories in each Curious George episode, so we always end up in a long discussion over whether I meant episodes or stories. I think we need a new standard of measurement.

A little earlier today I had a lengthy conversation with a very good friend, someone I have been communicating with since before I comprehended speech. We have a history together of over 30 years, and although we don't talk often over the phone and we live hundreds of miles apart, it feels as though we were just hanging out yesterday no matter how long it has been. Our conversation ranges from the trivial to the deepest spiritual struggles in our hearts. Today we sped through the how-are-yous to what God has really been doing in our lives. Soon, the conversation took a turn towards measurement...the measurement of ourselves to the world's definition of sucesss.

This talk got me thinking that as ridiculous as my son's elephant and cartoon measurements are to me, I wonder if I use just as amusing measurements in front of God. What do I tend to measure myself with? Well, there are obvious things, like the amount of money in my bank accounts (far too little), the size of my jeans (far too big), and the amount of work I am putting into a career outside my home (non-existent). Then there are more subtle measurements, like the square footage of my backyard, the outdated look of my home's interior, the length of time since I dyed my hair or styled it for that matter. Dig even deeper, and you will find an even more sinister table of measurement, which ponders questions like:

"When will I ever get this house completely clean? And how long can I handle the stress until then?"

"Was I just yelling at my kids too loud? Should I be disciplining them more or less? I have no idea!"

"How jealous can I be of my friend, who balances work and family so well?"

"What's my level of satisfaction in my marriage right now? And who's to blame for that?!"

"How depressed am I today? And is that normal?"

And THEN there's the mother of all my questions..."Am I where a person is supposed to be at my age? Shouldn't I be richer...happier...better looking...?"

It's here I sometimes stop and ask "Just who am I supposed to be as happy as?" My neighbor or friend, a girl in church, some woman I see jogging every morning? Even if I get that figured out, chances are that person is not as satisfied as I assume. They have their own list of shortcomings. I realize that I am playing the losing game of comparisons, because I can't figure out what my life's standard is, who's setting it, or how long it will stay the same. As advertisers try to convince me, there's always a better life out of reach.

"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing and perfect will" God says to me in Romans. I'm not meant to find fulfillment in society's pattern of success. Why? Because that's not what I was created for. Sure, acquiring money or a job, a nice house or car is fine. Things are not bad in themselves. But am I pursuing those things for validation? Am I using those things as evidence that I have arrived? As measurement for my worth?

Ok, if worth is not found by the pattern of this world, then where can I find it? Ah ha! In God's will. God has a path to His will that is designed to be as unique as I am. And how do I discover His will? By renewing my mind. Now, this is hard, because left to its own my mind stagnates into a a cesspool of what-ifs and comparisons and leaves me with an unsatisfied heart. This is especially true on days when I wear nothing but pajamas and am perpetually cleaning my kitchen. But if I ask God if I am meant to be wiping running noses, cleaning up dishes, and reading The Bunny Book for the third time today, He gently says "For now, yes." Because He has a sense of humor, and a passion for humbling me and blessing me in ways I don't expect. I am learning to accept that His path may or may not take me past a great house, a new car, a thin body. But for right now, I am going to thank Him for my loving home, my running car, and my healthy body. And someday when my car is broken and my body is sick, I hope I am still thanking Him.

My friend gave me a great exercise to help me put to death my comparison game. I am to draw a picture of the "perfect family," then burn it in my fireplace. Thus, I will hopefully let go of my striving to measure up to a standard that does not even exist. What a great idea! I look forward to completing this assignment. Details to follow.

Quiet...I'm percolating

Recently I discovered an old percolator in the pantry closet of my Grandma's home. The house, or should I say property since the house is uninhabitable, is being sold to cover my grandma's care at a retirement home. The house is full of stuff...some meaningful items long forgotten, but mostly just junk. It was amongst the old canned jars of apricots, which had turned dark brown from decades of waiting. Nearby sat my great-grandmother's pressed glass dish, caked with dirt and minerals, suggesting that it had be requisitioned to live out the last of its long life as a mere plant holder. Old bottles of baby lotion. A dime store candle still in its wrapper with its ten cent price tag. Receipts for nothing in particular. A pile of wheat pennies. I claimed the percolator as my own, imagining its past and planning for its future as a decorative item. Perhaps one day it would relive its original purpose. Ironically though the percolator is sitting at the top of my own kitchen cupboards, perched in the darkness once again.