Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts

Friday, June 3, 2022

This law business


After Matthew 5:27-32
 

OK, I get it, I think,

this business about

obedience to the law,

with the law being

both letter and spirit.

But what are you

saying here, what’s

the point? If I hear

you correctly, you’re

telling us that thew law

expresses the lawgiver’s

character, his mind, and

we are so far removed

that we can barely fathom

what’s here, much less 

actually obey and do it.

So, if all of that is true,

are we without hope?

Are we simply to muddle

along, live our lives,

and die? If we can’t do

this for ourselves, can

anyone do it for us?

 

Photograph by Mohamed Nohassi via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Sunday, May 29, 2022

It's the spirit


After Matthew 5:27-32
 

Sitting on the hillside,

speaking one mind-bending

statement after another,

he comes to the subjects,

bookended, as it were, 

of universal interest:

adultery, marriage, lust,

divorce, and then

adultery (again). He’s

punching home his

argument about the law:

it’s not only the letter

of the law that’s the issue;

it’s also the spirit of the law.

It’s not sufficient to avoid

adultery and give yourself

a well-earned pat on the back;

it’s also the idea , the action,

of even looking with wrong

motives. It’s as if you want

to be congratulated for not

beating your wife. And

ditto for divorce.

 

Photograph by Josh Marshall via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Bonnie Gray’s “Finding Spiritual Whitespace”


In 2011 and 2012, I was participating in a blogging linkup hosted by Bonnie Gray at Faith Barista. It was mostly a linkup with women and “mommy bloggers,” but I could write about my own children and my new grandsons, and I didn’t need an excuse to do that.

And then Bonnie went off-the-grid, for personal reasons. We knew she had been writing a book, but when you go off-the-grid to write a book, that’s what you say. Bonnie didn’t say that.

When an online community leader says “personal reasons,” you respect that, and you pray.

Bonnie’s season of rest went on for a year. She was writing a book, but not the book she expected to write. What she was writing about was surviving and dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, and some of its more visible symptoms.

Panic attacks. Insomnia. Depression.

Bonnie turned to counseling, and she wrote what seems to be an almost effortless book that is part memoir, part meditation, and part resolution of what she was dealing with. I say “almost effortless” because the book reads easily; it’s both well-written and compelling. And you keep reading on even when it’s time to turn the light out and sleep.

It’s a book written with pain, and in pain, a book about how brokenness and broken relationships can suddenly and unexpectedly erupt, decades after they happen. It’s a book about finding rest and resolution, or at least the beginning of resolution. And it’s a book about understanding, realizing how to deal with what can never be made whole, what can’t be “fixed.”


The heart of the story is what happened to Bonnie when she was a little girl. Divorce is, unfortunately, not an uncommon event. Abandonment by a father is not an uncommon thing. Dealing with a mother’s anger and rage may be less common, but it is still common enough to be recognizable, to be familiar.

In Bonnie’s case, the effects were both immediate and often ugly and long-term, buried until they erupted into those panic attacks and insomnia. Our culture may make divorce a relatively easy to accomplish, but there is nothing easy about what leads up to it and what happens afterward.

And what she writes about her own story is personally familiar. My own parents had both been previously married. Each had a child from their first marriages. How and why those marriages failed played itself in our family, too. Children often don’t, or can’t, understand how this happens, but their do experience the effects. Brokenness shapes who all of us are, even in families that don’t experience divorce.

One result from divorce can be overachieving, the state of constant activity and work that is both a reach toward an unattainable perfection and a desire to escape pain. Welcome to American culture.

Bonnie tells her story with a structure that is both personal and communal – developing her own story and helping readers find ways to tell theirs. The purpose is in the subtitle – awakening the soul, and the mind and the heart, to the idea of rest, rest from the frenzy of activity we call contemporary life, rest from the pain many of us are trying to escape.

Finding Spiritual Whitespace is more than a good story. It is a needed story. It’s a story that, as you read more and more, becomes uncomfortably and personally familiar.

It’s our story, too.

And Bonnie’s community linkup is back.


Photograph by Bobbi Jones Jones via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Friday, December 28, 2012

Overall Best of 2012 at The High Calling


I saw this afternoon that two articles I posted this year at The High Calling have been named to the Overall Best of 2012 List.

One was an interview I did with Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand Gifts. Here it’s really all Ann, who had some insightful and wonderful things to say. (And I’m still trying to figure out how she pulled me into that argument on national health care that night at Laity Lodge.)

The second was an article I wrote as part of the “I Do” series for The High Calling. In short order, I had read two articles about people making decisions to divorce. I read the articles, and my heart and mind cried out, “No!”

You can see the entire list at The High Calling. All this week, The High Calling has been posting the best stories from each of the categories it publishes. Some 1,600 article were posted this year.

My secret for having two articles on the list: I worked with an outstanding team. We encourage each other to do our best. The team deserves the full credit.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

I Do: Struggle

Both of my parents had been previously married—my mother once and my father twice. The odds were not good for a successful marriage, but they hung in there.

What it took me years to understand was how their previous marriages influenced everything, including the two children they had together. Divorce can create wariness about marriage that borders on pessimism, and often the expectation that this one, too, may be temporary.

To continue reading, please see my new post at The High Calling.