Being a Monument

I love Washington, DC.  It is one of my favorite cities, and one of my favorite places to be is sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial as dusk falls on the city.  The lights on the Washington Monument, the White House, the Vietnam Veterens Memorial . . . it's all so beautiful and poignant.  I love what it represents, and I love to be in the middle of all of that history.

Our country is big on monuments.  DC is obviously full of them--they're all so different and the artists have done so much to capture the moment, the memory, the people, the commitment, the struggle, the honor, the beauty.  Everywhere you look in that city, you are reminded of the wars we have fought, the freedom we have won, the men and women who sacrificed so much for us.  Downtown in my city, monuments remind me of a woman who refused to move from her seat on the bus to a seat that society demanded she take.  They remind me of a president who was our "native son."  In Oklahoma City and New York City, they remind us of the horror that men can inflict on other men--and of the heroes who will always step in to help.  In Rapid City, SD, they represent the first 150 years of our nation's independence.  We flock to them, and they become tourist attractions (you can even buy them on a keychain so you never have to forget!).

Monuments. 

Merriam-Webster defines a monument as "(1) : a lasting evidence, reminder, or example of someone or something notable or great (2) : a distinguished person b : a memorial stone or a building erected in remembrance of a person or event."

It turns out we Americans aren't the only ones who love monuments, either.  In The Message, Eugene Peterson translates Psalm 148:13-14 as follows:

Let them praise the name of GOD--
it's the only Name worth praising.
His radiance exceeds anything in earth and sky;
he's built a monument--his very own people!

That has stuck with me since I read it in my morning devotions several days ago.  "He's built a monument--his very own people!"  We are a monument.  Us.  Apparently God wanted to create "a lasting evidence, reminder, or example of Someone notable [and] great."  (capitalization mine)

What an incredible thought.  As with the monuments erected on this earth, the Artist has created us all unique--yet He has captured the moment, the memory, the people, the commitment, the struggle, the honor, the beauty.  My testimony, my life, my story, is a living monument to the glory of God.  When people see me, may they remember.  And may they praise the name of GOD, because it's the only Name worth praising.

Finding the Strength to Come Back

Here they are.  The thoughts inspired by Beyond Belief: Finding the Strength to Come Back, Josh Hamilton's memoir. 

Addiction.  It comes in so many forms and starts for so many reasons.  I know people who are alcoholics in varying states of recovery, and I have a dear friend who is a recovering drug addict.  It's not something that I have always understood.  At the same time, I have always tried to understand.  But I figured that I'd never live it, so I would never really get it.

And then, over the past several months, I have come to understand myself in a different way.  I have come to see that while I smoked a handful of cigarettes when I was 16 but never became a smoker, while I drink a few times a month and have gotten drunk a couple of times over the last 14 years but never became an alcoholic, and while I have never used an illegal drug or misused a prescription drug, I am still an addict.  It's hard to admit, but I seriously have a problem with food.  In his memoir, Josh talked about being both an alcoholic and a drug addict.  He said that he needs to completely avoid alcohol, because he is unable to stop at just one drink.  In 2009, he had a very public relapse that began with a late-night dinner at a pizza place and the question, "What could one drink hurt?" 

For me it is a question of what can one bag of jelly beans hurt?  What can one fast food meal hurt?  What can one run through Culver's hurt?  And then it goes further than that, because I struggle with self control.  What can sleeping in one morning hurt?  What can one day away from my Bible reading hurt?  What can one lapse in self-discipline hurt?  For me, the answer is a lot.  The answer is that it's never just one day.  Because I'm an addict.

I hope that I'm not belittling the damages that are caused by alcohol and drug addictions.  I'm certainly not trying to do so.  I know that those addictions destroy families and careers and lives.  I know that food addictions don't do that.  At least not normally.  From time to time, though, they do.  I hope it doesn't for me.  I'm certainly not the healthiest person around, but I am also not in real danger of dying because of my addiction.  At least not at this point.  But I've seen it in people.  I've seen food consume them.  I've seen an extra-large casket at a funeral.  I know that it can happen.

But beyond the physical problems from addictions, there is a deeper issue.  There's the fact that this isn't what I was created for.  There's the fact that God wants one lord of my life, and it's Him.  It's not cocaine or Jack Daniels or Burger King.  It's Him.  It's Him. 

I had a bad month.  My husband may have witnessed that, but there is also a lot that I did in secret this month.  I hate it.  I hate that I did it.  I hate that I relapsed.  But I love that I can come back.  I love that His strength is made perfect in my weakness.

I read Beyond Belief at an interesting time.  The copy that I read has an extra chapter, updating readers on Hamilton's relapse in 2009.  I finished the book and looked Josh up online only to discover that he relapsed again early this month.  What heartbreak.  And then to read some of the negative comments that people are writing about him and even to him . . . why?  Why?  Because it's hard to admit that something could have so much power over you?  Because it's easier to judge him and find him a failure than to take a look at the addictions in your own life?  This was a horrible month for me.  It was set off by a new medication that erased the weight I lost in January.  I decided that meant it erased all the hard work I'd done and decided to cash it all in.  I couldn't see how it was worth it, so I barely worked out, and I ate what I wanted.  I'm embarassed to have to face what I did to myself this month and how I ended up back where I said I never wanted to go again.  But that's addiction.  That's relapsing.  That's life.  Thank God there's grace.

I believe that Josh Hamilton is a public figure representing the private battles so many of us face.  No matter the addiction, no matter the number of relapses, no matter the person, there's power in facing it.  There's power in acknowledging it.  There's power in getting back up to start all over.  So this becomes a new month for me.  This becomes a learning experience and another step in my journey--another page in my story.  I have the strength to come back, in the exact same place where I found the strength for day one: in admitting that I am hopeless on my own and hope-filled in Him.

Raising My Ebenezer

In my Bible reading for today, God led the Israelites through yet another river on dry ground.  This time they're heading in to claim victory and settle in The Promised Land, and they need to cross the Jordan River to get there.  {There are also a number of other things they need to do, such as allow God to completely "dispossess" the land from all the people settling it.  If we watch the news today, we can clearly see how well it worked out for them when they decided to live "peacefully" with all these people instead.}  In Joshua 3: 9-13 in  The Message, after Joshua has told the priests to begin crossing the Jordan with the Ark of the Covenant and instructs the Israelites to watch and pay attention to what God is saying, he says, "Look at what's before you: the Chest of the Covenant.  Think of it--the Master of the entire earth is crossing the Jordan as you watch."

Once they are safely across--with "not one wet foot"--Joshua instructs a man from each of the 12 tribes of Israel to take a stone from the middle of the Jordan River and build a monument on the banks to remember the day that God led them through on dry land.  This raising of the Ebenezer is a common thing in the Old Testament.  It's a reminder of God's presence.  His intervention.  His grace.  His plan.

This morning I was reminded of an Ebenezer that I could raise alongside US-131 heading south from Cadillac.  Last year we were driving our full van of sleeping beauties home from Beau's parents' house, and the roads were bad.  We should have stayed in Cadillac, but we weren't prepared for that, so we ventured home.  At one point, as we were driving across a bridge spanning a fairly deep ravine, we hit black ice.  Beau completely lost control of the car, and we were sliding toward the bridge railing and the edge of the ravine.  For 20 long seconds we slid, within feet of striking a railing that likely wouldn't have held us at our speed.  As we slid, I said, over and over again, "It's okay.  It's okay.  It's okay."

Beau reminded me of that this morning as we drove the roads of the first day of real winter to hit West Michigan this year.  He said, "You kept saying it was okay, but it wasn't okay.  I didn't have control, and I didn't think I'd get it back.  I figured we were going over." 

With tears in my eyes, I recalled my feelings at that moment.  And I replied, "I wasn't telling you that you were in control or that we'd be fine because you'd get control back.  I was telling you that it was okay if we hit.  It was okay if we went over.  It was okay if we were injured or even if we died.  To be honest, I'm quite pleased that was my first response.  Because it really would have been okay.  We know where we're going, and we know Who holds us."

And it really would have been okay.  Because we could look at Who was before us on that bridge.  The Master of the entire earth was crossing ahead of us and behind us and next to us.  He had us in his hands.  He was in control, even if we weren't.  Think of it!