The Healed Soul

The Healed Soul

“The soul is healed by being with children.”

–Fyodor Dostoevsky

Happiness came at last for Dostoevsky in his mid-forties. Anna Snitkina and Fyodor Dostoevsky married and enjoyed sixteen wondrous years.

Anna’s writings gave us an intimate glimpse of Dostoevsky as an adoring husband. Once, he waited three hours for her on a street corner when her return was delayed. He also took great joy in giving her beautiful gifts—even when money seemed scarce.

8b0c79d0b2He had a tireless love of children and soothed the housekeeper’s children when he heard coughing or crying in the night. As a devoted father, he helped with bathing and feeding their children, unlike men of his day. Anna described him…

“Fyodor was uncommonly tender with his daughter, fussed over her, carried her about in his arms, sang her to sleep and felt so happy that he wrote (a friend), ‘Oh, why aren’t you married and why don’t you have a child? I swear to you that ¾ of life’s happiness lie in that, and ¼ at most in the rest.’”[i] Anna added, “Neither before nor since have I seen a man with such a capacity to enter the world of children.”[ii]

Dostoevsky also proved to be deeply passionate about God. He knew the depths of spiritual battles and once wrote:

“Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man.”[iii]

Another time he wrote, “God sends me sometimes instants when I am completely calm; at those instants I love and feel loved by others, and it is at those instances that I have shaped for myself a Credo where everything is clear and sacred for me. This Credo is very simple; here it is:Continue reading

God’s Redress

God’s Redress

Last week, I discussed the word “bemoan” – a normal response to pain. Especially stored-up pain. To fully understand the next several posts, you may need to go back and read it.

The second word, of the three that God gave me in the night, was “redress.” It means to set right, remedy, relieve distress, and bring correction or retribution. The words came initially as an enigma, because I was not in a thinking-them-up posture. I took notice though and searched them out, always valuing the possibility that God might speak to me.

Woman crying kleenexTwo days later, God pried open a pocket of deep sorrow, and I cried my eyes out. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Some ugly words and thoughts surfaced. A pile of snotty Kleenexes. Puffy eyes. Embarrassment. A deep ache in my chest.

It had to do with not feeling “place.” God wanted to redress that with me.

Let me explain.

Years ago, Gordon Dalbey, a wonderful teacher and author, prayed with me. He said a spirit of abdication had formed over my life since childhood. Abdicate means to renounce or relinquish a throne, right, power, claim, responsibility, or the like. “God wants you to take your rightful place,” he said.

In our youth, we all form a sense of self. Though I had stable and loving parents, by nature I was a shy and quiet girl. I learned what to say and do by taking cues from others. It was fertile ground for codependency.

While that is a natural response, maturity should bring a sense of self that is healthy, robust, and has boundaries. But I didn’t know the line where other people ended and I began. It seemed far easier to adapt myself to others. For years, I fostered a mirage of unity by playing the game of peace-at-any-price. I submerged myself to fill the gap of differences—an illusion of intimacy.

My fear was this—if I live fully alive, sparks will fly.

Self-discovery came slowly and later in my life.Continue reading

Wishbone Assumptions

Wishbone Assumptions

During worship one Sunday, I saw an image of a wishbone. God held one side and offered me the other. Somehow, I knew if I pulled it, I’d end up with the short end.

I said to God, “What’s this about?” All at once, I heard in my spirit—disappointment in relationships.

Interestingly, the sermon that followed was about God’s desire for us to be one with Him—as in marriage. The wishbone was a signal to examine any wrong assumptions I held about God because of painful human relationships.

If you’re wounded in marriage, it’s hard to understand the “mystery” that Paul writes about in Ephesians 5.

For some, disappointment in relationships stretches back to earlier hurts with parents. Unresolved wounds in our original relationships play out in all current interactions.

Pastor Kim Unrau told his story as an example. Kim had a great dad—a dad who tucked him in, said “I love you” out loud, and told Kim he could be anything he wanted. His dad was stable and worked hard to provide, but also spent long hours away from the family, “advancing the kingdom.”

When Kim examined the past more closely, he realized his disappointment. He was living under several assumptions: First, that his father didn’t have much time for him. Secondly, when his father was around, he didn’t listen to him or pursue his heart. And finally, his dad always tried to fix him with pastoral platitudes. You could see the pain in Kim’s face as he shared.

Though Kim idolized his father, he was hurt by him. Left unresolved, those same assumptions shadowed his relationships with other men in authority.

Invariably, disappointment with people spills over into disappointment with God.

Around that time, my friend Pastor Jim Tharp wrote an article in Christian Renewal Ministries Journal. He pointed out that Christians coexist with many ongoing sins in their lives. He named a few, including the sin of “prolonged discouragement.”

Wait a minute! Did I read that right?Continue reading