Sacred Mundane: The Blog

So, what of all this talk on disappointment? Why am I  so insistent that we face our disappointments, acknowledge our disappointments, process our disappointments?

Because God wants to give us authentic joy.

Last week we saw that our God purposefully and strategically disappoints those on whom He has a great call, so that we will believe (have faith), by walking with us through our pain.

Why is this so important?

In our culture we have come to believe that anything uncomfortable is bad. And worse, that in the midst of disappointment God must be absent. But we saw that we can have confidence in the midst of disappointment, knowing God’s plans, God’s purpose, and God’s presence. The disappointment indicates that God has great plans for me, to build my faith and draw me near to Him.

But He cannot do that beautiful work if we never admit we’re disappointed. He cannot transform something when we’re pretending it doesn’t exist.

Now why would we cover up the fact that we’re disappointed? Why would be pretend?

Could it be that we’re afraid? Is fear what lurks beneath the surface of expectation?

What are we afraid of?

Afraid of admitting that the paint really isn’t pear?

In his book Inside Out, Psychologist Dr. Larry Crabb says that the majority of us–in order to stay happy, sane and content–pretend like disappointments do not exist.  We aren’t honest with ourselves. Maybe we can acknowledge the big stuff–death and disease and disaster. But what about the daily disappointments that can so subtly drain our joy?

Little things like paint.

When Jeff and I moved into our home in McMinnville it had really oddly painted walls.  The bathroom was a glaring urine yellow so bright that it glowed even when the lights were off.  The master bedroom was jarring lime green and the smaller bedroom was two alternating shades of turquoise/teal.  The bathroom and the second bedroom were small and easy enough to fix, but the master bedroom was large with vaulted ceilings.  No easy paint job. Upon seeing the soaring ceilings and instantly evaluating the cost and effort it would take to repaint, I quickly insisted that I liked the color.  I like it. It’s like apple green. Pear, I insisted.

No problem, right?

But here’s the problem: This is the approach I take to a disturbing portion of life. I like it, I insist!  It’s apple green!  It’s pear! And yes, positive thinking is awesome–I’m all about it. But here’s the thing:  it was not apple green. It was not pear. It was hideous. And no amount of positive thinking was going to change the fact that it was not apple, or pear, or leaf or anything attractive, it was lime green and it was awful.

Now the point is NOT me having a perfectly painted house.  My desires being met is NOT what makes me happy and content in life.  But we wrongly assume that if we acknowledge we don’t like something, then we will be miserable.

We’re afraid.

If we acknowledge that we don’t like a situation, or that a disappointment still hurts, or that she has truly inflicted a wound on us, then we reveal our weakness. We reveal our vulnerability, and we are afraid that by acknowledging these things, we will never be happy.

But, sweet friends, the opposite is true!  So, I read Crabb’s book and realized, with this revelation of profound joy: I don’t like the green walls! Hooray!!  Jeff came home that day and I was practically bouncing off the green walls with joy as I said, “Guess what?! I hate that green color!  Yup! It’s not apple! It’s not pear, it’s not leaf or pistachio or any of the other ridiculous names I made up. It’s LIME! And I hate it! Woohoo!”

Of course he thought that I’d gone totally insane and probably thought, “Oh no, now I have to paint the room.”  But no, I told him, “You don’t have to paint the room, because get this: I don’t have to have perfectly colored walls in order to be happy! I can hate the color of my walls and still rejoice and be perfectly content!”  (I know you are thinking I am totally insane at this point.)

But the key is this:  If we think that we must lie to ourselves, and pretend that we are ok with every little thing in our lives, then we will never be truly, profoundly, and deeply content.

We will have constructed a flimsy façade of seeming contentment that is nothing more than a sorry cover for our unhappy lives.  This is why we must experience the pain, we must enter in to disappointment. Fear keeps us from it, but by faith we can be honest and enter in because we know God is in it and it is not the end.

The moment we honestly step into disappointment is the moment He begins to transform that disappointment into hope, into faith, into JOY. More on that tomorrow…

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Where do you find yourself glossing over a disappointment rather than honestly acknowledging it before God and entering in? If the paint’s not pear let’s call it what it is and learn to rejoice anyway. Thanks, as always, for reading.

Yesterday we saw our fear keeps us from entering into our disappointments (and admitting that the paint is not pistachio!). That God wants to work through our disappointments but fear keeps us in denial and short-circuits His glorious work. Today we’ll look at another way that fear paralyzes us:

Fear keeps us from honesty with God.

It takes a brave, trusting, courageous, faith-filled heart to say, “Ok God, here is all my junk. All of it. Check it all out and tell me what you think.” When we are brave enough, filled with faith enough, to acknowledge our disappointment honestly and enter in, He can then expose what lies beneath this cycle of disappointment. Because even though God purposefully disappoints us, His ultimate purpose is that we would not live a in a cycle disappointment, right?  So I’d like to share an example to you of this cycle of disappointment. This is a journal entry from more than 3 years ago, during a season of disappointment. It’s very raw and real, but that’s precisely why I share it. It’s so very revealing…perhaps each of us has been here at one point or another.

[We were living with my parents: I was going crazy, we’d just found out we were having another baby, and we were waiting for a church (not WCC) to make a decision on hiring Jeff…it was a LOOONG process. Then at the end they didn’t hire him.]

“We can’t move out until we know if Jeff will have a job at the church.  We have no income; we can’t move out until we know if we will have an income.  So we wait.  “Soon,” they say.  “Soon.”

So every stupid Tuesday, as Jeff goes into the church office for his meetings, every stupid Tuesday, I tell myself to not get my hopes up. Every stupid Tuesday I wait for him to call-at 2:45-and tell me how his meetings went.  Every stupid Tuesday I hope they will give him an answer-that they will give him an answer that will give me my life back.  And I convince myself-every stupid Tuesday-that it doesn’t matter and that I’ll be ok no matter what.

And every stupid Tuesday he calls and I listen as he says, “Yeah, my meetings went great …” and he begins telling me the details of the staff meeting and then my stomach does that thing-that thing where I feel sick and where that stupid lump comes up in my throat and I realize I’ve done it again: I’ve gotten my hopes up.  I’ve had an expectation.

And then I do what I know I will do. I ask, “Did he say anything about …?”  and Jeff knows what I mean and he gets quiet then says, “No, babe, no. I’m sorry.”  And then I get silent and cry, and I feel stupid all over again because I realize I’ve done it again-I’ve gotten my stupid hopes up that sometime, one of these times, we’re going to get some good news that someone will give him a job and we’ll get to move out and I can have my life back again.

And I do it every stupid Tuesday.  And every stupid Tuesday I chide myself and say “You’re supposed to wait on God, not on them.  Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”   And then I sit and wonder when the strength will come and why I’m weary and fainting.  Every stupid Tuesday.”

Ugh. I can still remember this feeling. This same cycle can take a million different forms.  From deep losses (pregnancy, every single month taking the test, looking for two little lines, every month having it not happen) to smaller things: a family member always doing the same things that tear you down. And every time they come over you think it will be different and everytime they come it’s the same, and you keep finding yourself in this disappointment cycle.  It’s a cycle, isn’t it?  Expectation, disappointment. Expectation, disappointment. A vicious cycle.

Have you ever felt this cycle? Tomorrow we’ll dissect it and expose its driving force. It’s been so life-changing for me; I can’t wait to share … Thank you for reading.