divorce lawyer encouragement...
We've become front row Baptists. I'm not talking the first few rows, but true front rowers. Because every Sunday we walk into the service at the last minute. If you know us, this is no real surprise. And with all things, the front row is usually the only spot available. From my few years of teaching and training, I've learned that people are naturally drawn to the back of a room. No one wants to sit on the front row. Ever. For some reason, I like the front row. Always have. I like being able to see everything. To have less distractions. But maybe, the real truth is that my internal "teacher's pet" draws me to the front of every room.
The Lord has used my church family to strongly influence my life over the past 11 years, and the trend seems to continue. I have met hundreds of amazing people that have impacted my life, people who have taught me things about the Lord, about myself, and what it really means to live a life for Christ. I've met people who've become dear friends, people who've encouraged me in ways they've never even know, people who've prayed for me and supported me during my darkest moments, and people who cheered me on during my best. I've had my feelings hurt, my heart broken, friendships stretched, and encounters that have been less than pleasant. I've made lifelong friendships, I've had to bid some farewell, and I've learned that the church is most rewarding when you truly commit yourself to serving whole-heartedly rather than simply showing up every now and then or leaving the moment you begin to feel challenged.
There have been many moments over the past 11 years where I was tempted to leave. Moments that made me angry. There were occasions when I felt so uncomfortable, like the odd man out, that I figured leaving was the best option. There have been moments when I've been faced with people who have rubbed me the wrong way, said things that made me cry, or treated me in a way that I didn't expect. But I knew that no matter where I ended up, I'd face these things. No church is perfect because well, each one is full of people. You throw people into any mix and things get messy. Even church people. But the Lord kept saying, "Stay." No matter how uncomfortable I felt, no matter how appealing the idea of leaving sounded, no matter how much "easier" it might have been, He kept saying, "Stay." And don't for a minute think I didn't wonder why. I did. But I knew that staying would be the best option. Not because I always felt like, but because the Lord asked me to.
Sunday morning a new family joined our church family. The pastor called them to the front and as he announced their names, the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. I had never met the father of the family before, but I knew him. In fact, we had spoken on a few occasions, although I figured he wouldn't remember me. He had played a significant role in my life, and I knew that unless I told him who I was, unless I put the pieces of the puzzle together, he'd never know. Part of me wanted to stand in the hand-shaking welcome line and tell him who I was, but another part kept me back. I decided that if I ever saw him in passing, I'd casually mention it. After all, I had honestly been thinking of saying something to him for years. I just never figured I'd actually have the chance.
That night, I found myself unintentionally sitting next to him as my church family gathered to take communion. A group of broken people, taking and eating of a body broken for us so that we could be made whole. And as the service came to an end, I walked over, stuck out my hand and made, quite possibly, the most awkward personal introduction.
You see, four years ago I talked to this man on the phone. He was the one drawing up the divorce papers I was having to sign. I remember when I learned that he was a Christian, and I was surprised. Christian divorce lawyer - sounds like an oxymoron, right? And although every bone in my body wanted to dislike this man, I had to remind myself that he wasn't the one responsible for my circumstances. And so the day that I received a letter in the mail from his office, a fire lit through my body and for whatever crazy reason, I picked up my phone and dialed his office. I didn't know what I was going to say, and since he was not my lawyer, I figured he wouldn't talk to me. But he did. He took my call, and I told him how I was totally against this whole divorce thing. I knew there was nothing he could do about it, but I wanted him to know that this was not what I wanted. He assured me that he understood where I was coming from and he explained the process to me. I thanked him for his time and hung up the phone. It would be three more months before we spoke again, having a conversation that would be seared into my mind for as long as my brain would let me remember.
And so when that night came, three months later, I called his office to leave a final message. I needed him to change a few pieces of information on the papers before I would sign them. I figured it would be safe to call at 10:00PM. That way, I could just leave a message and be done. I didn't want to talk to him because, let me just tell you, as humiliating as it is to tell someone that you're marriage has fallen apart, it's even harder to tell someone who is happily married. Someone who loves their spouse, who is faithful to them, who is committed to making it work. I figured he thought I was a total and complete failure. After all, I did. I tried everything under the sun to keep those papers from being filed and I failed... at least that's what it seemed like at the moment. But to my surprise, he answered the phone. Shocked, I fumbled around for words, and I finally made my point. And then he spent the next few minutes telling me that this wasn't the end. That although this seemed like the worst possible thing to ever happen to me, God would redeem it. He told me he had seen it before, and he said he knew that God still had a good plan for my life. And then he said, "One day, you'll look back on this and you'll thank God for it." He was right.
And so I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know that in a hour of desperation, of darkness, of fear and worry, God used him to speak truth and hope into my life. I don't think many people look to divorce lawyers for that kind of stuff, but God often wraps his goodness and grace up in ways we rarely expect. I wanted him to know that he was right, too. Because I do thank the Lord on a daily basis for being so faithful to me in the most difficult season of my life. For not abandoning me at my lowest. And for redeeming my life in a way that is far more beautiful than anything I could have ever imagined. I thank him each time I wake up next to my husband. When I look across the kitchen table at him as we sit and work on our nightly projects, I thank the Lord. When I teach with him every Sunday morning, when we discuss what God is doing in our lives, when we experience new joys together, when we sit in bed eating dinner and watching 80s sitcom re-runs, when we sing silly songs in response to one another's question, when we go on walks on warm evenings, when we live out the mundane moments of life, and when we sit at marvel at how good the Lord is and has been to us - I thank Him.
That's the beauty of the body. The beauty of being part of Christ's family. A part of the church. We need one another. Sometimes, we don't know how - but we do. God has put us here and crossed our paths for a reason. Maybe it's to encourage. Maybe it's to teach. Maybe it's to challenge, to love, to support. But isn't it good to know that God is using us? In ways we may never know, in ways unexpected, at just the right time, He places us in a divine situation. We say a word, give a hug, lend an ear, fix a meal - and God delivers his grace and goodness through us. Broken people, helping broken people. No one is perfect. No church is either. But when the whole body works together, leaning on Christ to be our guide, we come to find that even in our brokenness, we are whole.
"The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ." - 1 Corinthians 12:12
The Lord has used my church family to strongly influence my life over the past 11 years, and the trend seems to continue. I have met hundreds of amazing people that have impacted my life, people who have taught me things about the Lord, about myself, and what it really means to live a life for Christ. I've met people who've become dear friends, people who've encouraged me in ways they've never even know, people who've prayed for me and supported me during my darkest moments, and people who cheered me on during my best. I've had my feelings hurt, my heart broken, friendships stretched, and encounters that have been less than pleasant. I've made lifelong friendships, I've had to bid some farewell, and I've learned that the church is most rewarding when you truly commit yourself to serving whole-heartedly rather than simply showing up every now and then or leaving the moment you begin to feel challenged.
There have been many moments over the past 11 years where I was tempted to leave. Moments that made me angry. There were occasions when I felt so uncomfortable, like the odd man out, that I figured leaving was the best option. There have been moments when I've been faced with people who have rubbed me the wrong way, said things that made me cry, or treated me in a way that I didn't expect. But I knew that no matter where I ended up, I'd face these things. No church is perfect because well, each one is full of people. You throw people into any mix and things get messy. Even church people. But the Lord kept saying, "Stay." No matter how uncomfortable I felt, no matter how appealing the idea of leaving sounded, no matter how much "easier" it might have been, He kept saying, "Stay." And don't for a minute think I didn't wonder why. I did. But I knew that staying would be the best option. Not because I always felt like, but because the Lord asked me to.
Sunday morning a new family joined our church family. The pastor called them to the front and as he announced their names, the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. I had never met the father of the family before, but I knew him. In fact, we had spoken on a few occasions, although I figured he wouldn't remember me. He had played a significant role in my life, and I knew that unless I told him who I was, unless I put the pieces of the puzzle together, he'd never know. Part of me wanted to stand in the hand-shaking welcome line and tell him who I was, but another part kept me back. I decided that if I ever saw him in passing, I'd casually mention it. After all, I had honestly been thinking of saying something to him for years. I just never figured I'd actually have the chance.
That night, I found myself unintentionally sitting next to him as my church family gathered to take communion. A group of broken people, taking and eating of a body broken for us so that we could be made whole. And as the service came to an end, I walked over, stuck out my hand and made, quite possibly, the most awkward personal introduction.
You see, four years ago I talked to this man on the phone. He was the one drawing up the divorce papers I was having to sign. I remember when I learned that he was a Christian, and I was surprised. Christian divorce lawyer - sounds like an oxymoron, right? And although every bone in my body wanted to dislike this man, I had to remind myself that he wasn't the one responsible for my circumstances. And so the day that I received a letter in the mail from his office, a fire lit through my body and for whatever crazy reason, I picked up my phone and dialed his office. I didn't know what I was going to say, and since he was not my lawyer, I figured he wouldn't talk to me. But he did. He took my call, and I told him how I was totally against this whole divorce thing. I knew there was nothing he could do about it, but I wanted him to know that this was not what I wanted. He assured me that he understood where I was coming from and he explained the process to me. I thanked him for his time and hung up the phone. It would be three more months before we spoke again, having a conversation that would be seared into my mind for as long as my brain would let me remember.
And so when that night came, three months later, I called his office to leave a final message. I needed him to change a few pieces of information on the papers before I would sign them. I figured it would be safe to call at 10:00PM. That way, I could just leave a message and be done. I didn't want to talk to him because, let me just tell you, as humiliating as it is to tell someone that you're marriage has fallen apart, it's even harder to tell someone who is happily married. Someone who loves their spouse, who is faithful to them, who is committed to making it work. I figured he thought I was a total and complete failure. After all, I did. I tried everything under the sun to keep those papers from being filed and I failed... at least that's what it seemed like at the moment. But to my surprise, he answered the phone. Shocked, I fumbled around for words, and I finally made my point. And then he spent the next few minutes telling me that this wasn't the end. That although this seemed like the worst possible thing to ever happen to me, God would redeem it. He told me he had seen it before, and he said he knew that God still had a good plan for my life. And then he said, "One day, you'll look back on this and you'll thank God for it." He was right.
And so I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know that in a hour of desperation, of darkness, of fear and worry, God used him to speak truth and hope into my life. I don't think many people look to divorce lawyers for that kind of stuff, but God often wraps his goodness and grace up in ways we rarely expect. I wanted him to know that he was right, too. Because I do thank the Lord on a daily basis for being so faithful to me in the most difficult season of my life. For not abandoning me at my lowest. And for redeeming my life in a way that is far more beautiful than anything I could have ever imagined. I thank him each time I wake up next to my husband. When I look across the kitchen table at him as we sit and work on our nightly projects, I thank the Lord. When I teach with him every Sunday morning, when we discuss what God is doing in our lives, when we experience new joys together, when we sit in bed eating dinner and watching 80s sitcom re-runs, when we sing silly songs in response to one another's question, when we go on walks on warm evenings, when we live out the mundane moments of life, and when we sit at marvel at how good the Lord is and has been to us - I thank Him.
That's the beauty of the body. The beauty of being part of Christ's family. A part of the church. We need one another. Sometimes, we don't know how - but we do. God has put us here and crossed our paths for a reason. Maybe it's to encourage. Maybe it's to teach. Maybe it's to challenge, to love, to support. But isn't it good to know that God is using us? In ways we may never know, in ways unexpected, at just the right time, He places us in a divine situation. We say a word, give a hug, lend an ear, fix a meal - and God delivers his grace and goodness through us. Broken people, helping broken people. No one is perfect. No church is either. But when the whole body works together, leaning on Christ to be our guide, we come to find that even in our brokenness, we are whole.
"The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ." - 1 Corinthians 12:12
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