Still wrestling down that elephant in the room

Let’s continue looking at that elephant in the room. Last week I noted that Chuck Swindoll nailed it when he said, “Sometimes people and things can become too important to us. We grip them with closed fists and white knuckles, and God has to pry open our fingers to loosen our hold.” (Abraham, The Friend of God) 

God was trying to pry open my fists so I’d hold my young adult children less fiercely. And it hurt. Oh, yes, it hurt! 

But God asked many people before me to loosen their grip on their kids, too. 

Think about Abraham. 

At first it makes no sense that the God of grace, the God of mercy, comfort, and unfailing love would ask Abraham to offer his son Isaac as a burnt offering (Genesis 22:2). 

God had promised Abraham this son, Isaac. God had promised descendants through Isaac—as many as the stars in the heavens. He’d promised to make Isaac’s descendants into a great nation and give them the Promised Land. He’d said that all people on earth would be blessed through Isaac. 

And yet God wanted Abraham to put Isaac to death? 

Now, God and Abraham had already enjoyed a long, close relationship, the type illustrated in Genesis 17:3—when God appeared before him, Abraham fell on his face. 

“Note the times when Abraham did not speak before God but remained silent before Him—not sullen, but silent. Awe is just that—reverential dread and wonder. . . . Awe is the condition of a man’s spirit when he realizes who God is and what He has done for him personally. . . . 

“Abraham’s posture is an expression of deep humility, trustful confidence, and pure joy—the characteristics of faith in God." (Oswald Chambers, Not Knowing Where; [emphasis added]). 

That’s important information. God made His request within the context of a trusting, personal relationship. 

The NIV study Bible note for Genesis 22:2 reads: “Abraham had [previously] committed himself by covenant to be obedient to the Lord and had consecrated his son Isaac to the Lord.” 

Given that, God’s request of Abraham seemed based on, and a result of, Abraham’s willingness to “walk the talk,” to follow through on his covenant and commitments. 

One key to understanding God’s bizarre request is the burnt offering. The NIV Study Bible explains: “The Hebrew word for ‘offering’ used here [Leviticus 1:2-3] comes from the word translated ‘brings.’ An ‘offering’ is something that someone ‘brings’ to God as a gift (most offerings are voluntary, such as the burnt offering). . . . Anyone could offer special burnt offerings to express devotion to the Lord.” An NIV Study Bible chart defines burnt offering as a voluntary act of worship, an expression of devotion, commitment, and complete surrender to God [emphasis added]. 

God asked Abraham if he’d offer up Isaac voluntarily, as an act of worship, as a gift, as an expression of his devotion to Him. 

“The Lord put his servant’s faith and loyalty to the supreme test, thereby instructing Abraham, Isaac and their descendants as to the kind of total consecration the Lord’s covenant requires” (NIV Study Bible note for Genesis 22:2). 

“The very nature of faith is that it must be tried; faith untried is only ideally real, not actually real. . . . God proved Abraham’s faith by placing him in the most extreme crisis possible, for faith must prove itself by the inward concession of the believer’s dearest objects.” (Oswald Chambers, Not Knowing Where) 

God asked Abraham, as part of their covenant, to give Him his dearest and best so He could give Abraham gems and buried treasure: His better. 

This was God’s supreme test of Abraham’s faith and loyalty. 

This was a pivotal point in Abraham’s life. He could do what God asked, or he could pretend God had not spoken. 

Abraham was about to discover if indeed God was his first priority. 

And as for me: God was offering me a glimpse into whether or not He was my first priority.

 

The Elephant in the Room, Part 2, for empty-nesters: How can we leave our kids and live on the other side of the planet?

We need to look at that elephant in the room—I told you about it last week, the topic I’ve been ignoring.

Wait. Not “ignoring.” It’s been much on my mind and heart, but I’ve been unable to blog about it.

Recent posts, however, helped me stand closer and lean in, and now I’m looking that elephant in the eye.

So here it is:

I didn’t want to move to Africa because I didn’t want to leave my kids. If you’ve read Chapter 2 of Grandma’s Letters from Africa, you know what I wrote:

“Just when our youngest finished college, both Dave and God hollered ‘Africa!’ Stunned, I asked myself, How can we leave our kids . . .  and live on the other side of the planet?”

“Everything within me cried out that my children still needed their parents. I recognized they didn’t need us the way they did when they were little, but I believed they needed our behind-the-scenes support to transition out of the world of college and into the world of professionals.” (from the Preface and Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa)

I had taken my mothering role seriously. My commitment throbbed deep in my heart because, I believed then and believe now, God Himself put it there—He had given me that high calling. As a result, I had made numerous choices so I could do the job right. My role as Matt and Karen’s mother was my joy, my delight, my privilege.

And since God had given me those precious children as well as the job of raising them well, it didn’t make sense that He would ask me to move half a world away from them—and the grandchildren that would surely join the family soon.

I continued in Chapter 2:

Silently I cried out, When I became a mother, I did not plan to walk away from my children after only twenty-one years! I always dreamed our children and grandchildren would live nearby and that we’d get together often—but now this! This felt like a tragic surprise ending to the motherhood I always envisioned. . . .

I spoke about this at our Port Angeles church and I wrote about it in the book. Blogging about it, however, feels like ripping sutures off a wound, and that caught me by surprise.

I could skip this topic and move on to others in Chapter 2—if it weren’t for some of you.

You see, the reason I published the memoir (instead of only making copies of my stories for my grandchildren),

and the reason I’m blogging about it,

is this:

God is asking other mid-lifers and empty-nesters—maybe even you—to move into overseas missions work.

And because I know that can be scary . . .

and because I remember that leaving young adult children and grandchildren can wrench hearts . . .

and because I recall how much other people’s stories helped me . . .

I’m doing this for you, readers! I’m doing this for you!

Read this carefully:

Because other people took time to tell their stories, 

they changed my heart 

and strengthened my faith 

until I could say “yes” to God’s invitation to Africa.

Perhaps God will use my story to help you 

write new chapters into your life.

Do come back next week 

because we have gems and priceless treasures to mine 

m the rocky soil beneath that elephant’s heavy feet.

Do you need to stare down that elephant in your room?

For some time now, I’ve been blogging about our arrival in Kenya—our three-month orientation course in the bush, living alongside lions and baboons and hippos, sampling new foods, singing worship songs in Swahili, and other adventures from Chapter 2 of Grandma’s Letters from Africa—but I still have not blogged about that elephant in the room.

(The Oxford English Dictionary says we’ve used the term “elephant in the room” since 1959. Did you know it does not mean the same as “the 800-pound gorilla in the room”?)

I’ve done a pretty good job of crouching in one corner or another and avoiding eye contact with that elephant. 

So far, stepping closer to it has been more than I can handle.

That’s why I keep circling that elephant at a distance.

But believe it or not, with several recent blog posts I’ve been circumnavigating nearer and I know that one of these days I’ll have to stand up close and lean in and look that elephant in the eye.

What am I talking about? What’s the elephant in the room?

Do you know? Or can you guess?

Leave a comment below or on the Facebook Page for Grandma’s Letters from Africa.

Come back next week and I’ll share more of my story.

But for now, LET ME ASK YOU:

What elephant in the room do you keep circling

from a distance?

Do you need to lean in and look squarely in the eye of

YOUR elephant in the room?

Perhaps my story will encourage you

to stare down your own elephant.

See you next week.