A Pure Heart

“It is these who have not defiled themselves with women, for they are virgins. It is these who follow the Lamb wherever he goes.” – Revelation 14:4

“Another angel, a second, followed, saying, ‘Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great, she who made all nations drink the wine of the passion of her sexual immorality.” – Revelation 14:8

Clearly these verses are speaking about virginity and sexual immorality in a metaphorical manner. And yet it is not without reason that this particular metaphor occurs in the Bible so frequently. There is nothing quite so challenging and concrete about my desire to follow Jesus as my attention towards sexual purity, and an indispensable element of any quest for sexual purity is spiritual.

Often this is a topic relegated to the mere matter of not crossing certain lines before marriage, when nothing could be further from the truth. Sexual purity is a life-long asking of the question, how do I honor God sexually, through my body, mind, and emotions? –-and then learning to live out the answer in perseverance, humility, and community. The nature of the answer may change after marriage, but the question by no means goes away. 

I was surprised to read about this during a discussion on solitude in Thomas Merton’s book New Seeds of Contemplation. He writes, “One vitally important aspect of solitude is its intimate dependence on chastity… Nowhere is self-denial more important than in the area of sex, because this is the most difficult of all natural appetites to control and one whose undisciplined gratification completely blinds the human spirit to all interior light.”

I would apply chastity here not as the absence of sex, but living with sexual purity before God in my thought life and actions—and this requires intentionality. Merton continues, “It demands considerable effort, watchfulness, patience, humility, and trust in Divine grace. But the very struggle for chastity teaches us to rely on a spiritual power higher than our own nature, and this is an indispensable preparation for interior prayer. Furthermore, chastity is not possible without ascetic self-sacrifice in many other areas. It demands a certain amount of fasting, it requires a very temperate and well-ordered life, modesty, restraint of curiosity… and many other virtues.”

Ultimately, sexual purity is a submission of not just a part, but my whole self to God. It involves aligning other areas of my life under His rule, just as other areas are affected by sexual sin. “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (Proverbs 4:23). This is not easy, but God can give us clarity, freedom and joy in our journeys. May we be willing to follow the Lamb wherever he may take us, so that one day we may stand before him with pure hearts.

Reacting and Responding

“A fool gives full vent to his spirit, but a wise man quietly holds it back.” – Proverbs 29:11

There is a difference between reacting and responding. More often than not I find that being too quick to react inhibits my ability to respond well. If there is one parenting lesson I am slowly, slowly learning over the course of these past six months, it is that quite often the very best thing to do in the moment is not to react. Not snap back, not lecture, not vent. Not say anything, even if the words are forming in my mind, bursting to be spoken; even if they are fully justified. I’ve been doing an experiment of sorts, and found that each time I have consciously held back, a better outcome has resulted. I’ve never regretted it.

This doesn’t mean I don’t respond, but in fact helps me respond better. It allows the cloud of my emotions to pass by so I can focus on what my child needs with greater clarity. It allows me to assess for optimal timing, to choose my words with greater care. It often prevents an angry outburst or an escalated argument, which end up being more destructive than productive. It opens a window for grace. It guides me towards correction that points to the gospel, rather than becoming tinged with personal vindictiveness.

In the book Every Moment Holy, Douglas McKelvey writes “A Liturgy for a Moment of Frustration at a Child”:

Let me not react in this moment, O Lord,

in the blindness of my own emotion.

Rather give me—a fellow sinner—

wisdom to respond with a grace

that would shepherd my child’s heart

toward your mercies,

   so equipping them

   for the hard labors

   of their own pilgrimage.

See-and-Hide

“The prudent sees danger and hides himself, but the simple go on and suffer for it.” – Proverbs 22:3, 27:12

One game the kids never tire of is hide-and-seek, or its variant, sardines. One of their favorite things to do in new or old spaces is to ferret out the perfect hiding spot. I suppose there’s an excitement in staying hidden while someone passes you by. 

That’s the mental image I have when reading this verse. Proverbs uses the word “prudent” eight times, and it is always associated with some element of concealment. A prudent man covers shame (12:16), conceals knowledge (12:23), does not lay open his folly (13:16), and hides himself (22:3, 27:12). He makes himself unavailable for the danger.

How can I make myself unavailable for danger, for temptation or sin? The first step is to see. I can track patterns to see if there are particular physical or emotional conditions, times of day, triggers or social situations where I tend to struggle with a habitual sin. I can do an end-of-day examen or journaling session to reflect on sins in my day and what may have led to them. I can give more consideration to areas of danger that may be coming in the future.

The second step is to hide. This may mean avoiding certain movies, books, or news articles. It may mean refraining from speaking. It may mean avoiding hanging out with certain people or at certain places. It may mean removing environmental cues or triggers around the house. It may mean actively seeking spiritual fellowship and accountability. It may mean finding a positive pursuit to make myself less available for dangerous distractions. 

The point is, making ourselves unavailable for danger can be an option. We don’t always have to stand and fight or struggle. But it requires prudence. It requires a certain kind of vision and knowledge about ourselves and about the situations and dangers around us. May we have wisdom to see what is coming and hide ourselves if we need to.

Resilience

“He who is often reproved, yet stiffens his neck, will suddenly be broken beyond healing.” – Proverbs 29:1

“What people need, it seems, is not a stress-free life, but the framework to treat stress well; to use it as a stimulus for growth, rather than buckling under it.” – Kirsten Burkett, Resilience: A Spiritual Project

One of the hardest things to teach our children is how to receive reproof without becoming defensive. There’s some variation depending on age and personality, but nearly always the response to a statement like “what you did was wrong” is some version of, “but last time this happened” or “they were wrong too.” Last week I found myself trying to explain to the kids what being “defensive” means: it’s like holding up a shield so that any negative feedback bounces off. That’s our natural instinct. But sometimes, you need to put the shield down and receive the negative thing; you need to try to listen, because that is how you grow. 

It occurs to me that this is about having a kind of resilience, the ability to bounce back from something bad. Indeed, this verse uses the language of elasticity: to stiffen ourselves against reproof is to become dangerously brittle. There may come a day when we snap. But receiving reproof is learning to be flexible, to have resilience, so that by implication we may heal and grow. 

“Resilience” has become somewhat of a buzz-word in popular psychology, but while resilience research centers on a lot of the same concepts that we see in Christian spirituality—adversity leading to strength, importance of meaning and purpose, benefits of hope and optimism—Christianity offers deeper, more centered answers, I think. Christianity says that resilience is possible because you are deeply loved. When my children know that reproof comes from a parent who loves them in a deep and even sacrificial way, they are able to lower their shields because they know that whatever comes their way will ultimately not shatter their sense of self, their identity as a beloved child. Secondly, resilience is possible because Christianity says that suffering is not all bad. Our response to adverse events depends not so much on the event itself as on our belief about that event—and if we believe that God can use even suffering to build our faith and purify our hope, then our response to it will be different.

We need resilience these days—spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical resilience. May we learn how to regroup in the face of unexpected challenges, may we never lose our hope and joy, may we not be afraid to walk through suffering, because we are deeply centered in a God who loves us and has called us to this moment we are in.

Knowledge and Wisdom

“Whoever trusts in his own mind is a fool, but he who walks in wisdom will be delivered.” – Proverbs 28:26

We were in a bible study group once, preparing to study the passage in which Abraham is asked to sacrifice Isaac, and the leader asked us to share the thing about ourselves that would be hardest to give up. Some people said their ethnicity, or a physical ability, but for me it would be my mind. I remember taking care of a patient with brain cancer once, and the process in which she lost her ability to think without having insight about what was happening struck me so much I wrote a piece about it called “Losing Your Mind.”

The fact is, I rely on my mind quite a lot. I count on my ability to list-make, analyze, discuss, reflect, or research whatever comes my way. And in this post-Enlightenment, information age, don’t we all? Isn’t that our first impulse? There’s always another book or article to read, another expert to consult, another angle from which to analyze the situation.

None of that is bad, but this proverb states quite baldly that if we primarily live by trusting our minds, we are fools. The first and second half of this verse are cataclysmically different. They exist in two different paradigms. The second half talks not at all about thinking but about walking: he who “walks in wisdom,” it says, not “thinks in wisdom.” We can think all we like, but in the end trusting our minds will not really tell us how to walk out our lives. That requires wisdom. And wisdom is seeing that we need deliverance. We don’t need to try harder or get more information: we need to be saved. We need to pray. We need to ask for help. This is not to say wisdom does not include knowledge, but it is something far more than that.

And so I ask myself: how much do I rely on what I think or research, and how much do I rely on prayer? How much do I sit and stew about the possible outcomes, and how much am I willing to just take the next wise step forward? How much do I think it’s really up to me, and how much do I trust in a God who delivers? Whoever trusts in his own mind is a fool, but he who walks in wisdom will be delivered.

The Jealousy Of God

“Wrath is cruel, anger is overwhelming, but who can stand before jealousy?” – Proverbs 27:4

“And I will judge you as women who commit adultery and shed blood are judged, and bring upon you the blood of wrath and jealousy.” – Ezekiel 16:38

Ezekiel 16 tells the wrenching story of God’s jealousy. Jerusalem is depicted as a woman, one who started as an unwanted child, of foreign parentage, discarded after birth with not even the cord cut, unwashed and unswaddled, wallowing in blood on the ground. “I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’” (verse 6). God made her flourish, then as she grew to be a woman, God covered her nakedness and made a covenant vow with her: “and you became mine” (verse 8). Again, he washed off her blood. He covers her nakedness and adorns her with jewelry. But the woman betrays him. She is unfaithful with passersby, even paying them for it. She makes the clothes, jewelry, and food she was given into idols. She burns their children as an offering to other gods.

This is the reality of what happens when we turn from loving God to other idols in our life, when our loves become disordered. We are the woman in this story, incurring not just detached wrath but personal jealousy. Jealousy is a word for lovers. But that is how it is between us and God, and change in how we handle sin and idolatry in our lives does not happen until we understand that on a deep level. The answer to temptation is not self-control but relationship. The law, what I “should” do, has no power to actually change my behavior. But realizing what my sin does to a God who loves me does. The degree to which I can fight temptation or see change is the degree to which I realize my place in this story, and cultivate my relationship with my lover-God.

The truly wrenching thing is realizing that all of God’s wrath, the consequences of his jealousy, fall upon Jesus. God says, because you rejected me when I washed your blood and covered your nakedness, you will now be stripped naked and made bloody in judgment. And that is exactly what happened to Jesus. People were gathered against him on every side as his nakedness was uncovered (verse 37). He shed the blood of God’s wrath (verse 38). There was a crowd there as he was cut with a sword (verse 40). “So will I satisfy my wrath on you, and my jealousy will depart from you”—and indeed, because of Jesus, it has. God looked upon Jesus in his blood and said again, “Live!” and that is why we can too.

Future Ambiguity

“Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring.” – Proverbs 27:1

This verse has acquired a whole new meaning these days, as we face navigating nearly every event in our future—schools, career, exercise, trips, ministry—with uncertainty. Will this open? If it does, what will it look like? What are my and others’ level of risk tolerance? Will it all change again in a few weeks? 

In a way, this time has brought into clearer focus the spiritual reality that we always have controlled far less of our future than we perhaps think we do. We tend to function with a degree of self-reliance that manifests as either over-confidence about the future, or anxiety over the future, and the Bible warns against both. James 4 says, “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go… and make a profit’—yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring… you boast in your arrogance.” Matthew 6 says, “Do not be anxious about your life… Look at the birds… your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Both tendencies stem from the same problem: making more of ourselves than we ought.

Proverbs says, wisdom is to accept a certain degree of ambiguity about your future. It is to realize how much we tend to be a victim of our circumstances, a victim of our perception of our future circumstances. It is to recognize how much the future controls how we feel in the present, and to be able to let go of some of that. Wisdom is to be honest about what our heart trusts and hopes in.

Escalators and Fires

“For lack of wood the fire goes out, and where there is no whisperer, quarreling ceases.” – Proverbs 26:20

Part of the art of fighting well is refraining from escalating arguments. Fighting is part of a healthy relationship and can be helpful in bringing to light issues that need more work or communication. A relationship without any disagreements probably means it hasn’t gone deep enough yet, or, even worse, has gone to the other extreme and both parties have become disengaged. 

But, of course, fighting can become incredibly destructive. The tongue is like a fire, James writes, difficult to control. It takes an incredible amount of intention and practice to learn how to let fights illuminate important issues and spark important conversations, while not allowing them to become hurtful or destructive. Early on in our relationship, Dave and I agreed on a list of rules for fights, which included general things like “never use the word divorce” and “never bring up things about the person that they can’t change,” as well as items specific to our fighting styles, like “it’s okay to leave to cool down, but give a general window of return.”

What we’ve learned over time, though, is that it’s much easier and more strategic to control fights before they escalate to the point where you need lists like those. Fights are like fires: they’re harder to start than to keep going. They’re easier to quench early on. Fights don’t bloom on their own: they require kindling. Whether you are conscious of it or not, you have to feed fights for them to come to life. And it always takes two. Even one of us choosing not to escalate can change the course of the entire argument.

One of the challenges during the first few weeks of sheltering in place were the fights that would pop up between the kids like little fires throughout the day. Some would get worse than others, and one day we sat down and had a talk about it means to escalate and de-escalate fights. Fights, I told them, are like a tall building you walk into. There are different stories in this building. It’s easier to go up a story than to come down a story, and the higher you go up, the harder it becomes to go down. The higher you go up, the more damage you do to the relationship, and some arguments go so high that there’s permanent hurt that takes a lot of work to heal from. You can choose whether or not to take the escalator to the next floor. Escalators are any thoughts or actions that rile you up. We brainstormed what these could be: thinking “he always does this” or “I deserve this.” Physical aggression, rolling of the eyes, using words like “always” or “never.” Raising the volume of our voices. All these things take us up to the next story of the building. There are also escalators going down, like leaving the room to calm down, going to find mommy for help. Using statements that start with “I” instead of “you.” Getting something to eat if hunger is playing a role. Simply not saying anything for the moment. 

What are your escalators and de-escalators? What are the whispers, the small thoughts and actions, that feed the fires of your arguments? There’s probably no better time than now to work on how to fight well.

Self-Control

“A man without self-control is like a city broken into and left without walls.” – Proverbs 25:28

“The enemy who wars against our souls is a consummate master in his way, fertile in stratagems, and equally skillful in carrying on his assaults by sap or by storm. He studies us, if I may so say, all around, to discover our weak sides… Satan will, doubtless, watch you, and examine every corner of the hedge around you, to see if he can find a gap by which to enter.” – John Newton, The Utterance of the Heart, pp 176, 180

The phrase for “self-control” here is literally “rule his spirit”—himself, his inner self. Most temptations do start within. I picture within myself a morass of thoughts, imaginations, compulsions, and desires. If I do not familiarize myself with my inner workings, if I do not study them and learn how to rule them, if I do not restrain them, then I am like a city without walls. 

Perhaps a good modern-day equivalent would be to say that I would be like a house with the front door swinging wide open. Anyone could come in. I would be vulnerable to attacks. I would be devaluing what I possess within. I would simply be foolish. No one would live like that. No one would want to live in a house like that. 

Yet I would not say that self-control is a culturally-esteemed value. We tout unrestrained self-expression. We promote the satiation of desires as long as no one is obviously hurt. We encourage the proliferation of our desires. We tend to be blind to the slippery slopes of temptation. We don’t necessarily learn how to study and restrain our desires until we’ve already gone too far. And this could be the desire for many things: recognition and reputation, food, sex, control, angry outbursts, sloth, revenge, escape. But the fact is, we’re in a spiritual war. We have an Enemy who looks for the gaps. He doesn’t need to break into the city: we break into it ourselves when we fail to learn how to control ourselves. We need to learn and practice the ruling of our inner selves lest we be like a city left without walls.

Words Fitly Spoken

“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver. Like a gold ring or an ornament of gold is a wise reprover to a listening ear.” – Proverbs 25:12

One thing about sheltering in place is that it’s given us a closer view of our oldest daughter edging into adolescence. She’s become in some ways more opaque and private; in others more vulnerable and close. It’s a push-and-pull feeling that reminds me of the swimming pool analogy Lisa Damour uses in her book “Untangled”: it’s like the world is a swimming pool, and you are the wall. She’ll be unexpectedly warm and intimate one moment, clinging to the wall, then want to push off again the next moment, even if that comes off in a rude way. Enjoy the closeness, but don’t take the push-off’s personally, Damour writes. “Your daughter needs a wall to swim to, and she needs you to be a wall that can withstand her comings and goings.”

Talking with her, I’m realizing, means reading where she is in the pool: heading towards the wall? At the wall, waiting for me? Pushing off or already out in the water? There isn’t necessarily a consistent rhythm to it. Even practical skills seem to develop at an uneven pace: she might insist on doing something complicated entirely on her own, yet want me to help with a simpler task. I need to relearn when to give her space and when to reinforce boundaries, when to just listen and when to speak—and all of that requires studying her carefully, and sifting and re-sifting through my own motives.

Eugene Peterson translates this verse, “The right word at the right time is like a custom-made piece of jewelry.” Making custom jewelry requires that you study the subject, that you understand their personal style and preferences, yet also know what would look good on them. It means you have a vision for how they could look. It means you take time in crafting and giving thought to what you will make. But there’s something wonderful about the idea that our words, even (or especially) our reproof, can make someone more beautiful than they already are. That is how I want my words to my adolescent to be: this word fitly spoken. Surely the work that would go into that is worth it.

Contagious Emotions

“Make no friendship with a man given to anger, nor go with a wrathful man, lest you learn his ways and entangle yourself in a snare.” – Proverbs 22:24-25

I remember being struck in medical school by how easy it is to absorb the emotions of my patients. In my desire to be empathetic, I found myself unconsciously acquiring their emotions: feeling more perturbed after seeing an anxious patient, more upset after seeing a hostile patient, more glum after seeing someone who was depressed. 

Apparently this is a phenomenon known as “emotional contagion.” We tend to imitate the facial expressions, postures, and vocal tones of those around us, and because expressions can affect emotions, our feelings are changed as well. Fascinatingly, this process of mimicry happens so quickly and unconsciously that few of us are aware of it. A Wharton professor once separated students into small groups; in each group he planted a student expressing a particular emotion. Those with someone in the group expressing enthusiasm or happiness perceived themselves as more competent and cooperative compared with those in groups with someone expressing hostility or depression—but when asked what influenced how they performed, they attributed it entirely to their own skills. 

This proverb warns us to be cautious when it comes to being influenced by others’ emotions, lest we become entangled unawares. Maybe this means avoiding certain situations, setting emotional boundaries, or simply learning to read emotional subtexts. Many days I find that the hardest part of homeschooling is managing not the teaching content or zoom schedules, but the emotional vicissitudes of my children. It takes intentionality to empathize without internalizing too deeply, to respond instead of react, to reflect feelings while remaining stable. Frequently I find that absorbing their emotions to some degree is unavoidable, and in order to have the emotional reserves to do that, I have to set boundaries for time for myself. I find myself having to deal with this all to an unprecedented degree these days, but as this proverb reminds us, these are important skills that are worth our attention and practice.

Quarrelsome

“It is better to live in a corner of the housetop than in a house shared with a quarrelsome wife.” – Proverbs 21:9

Whenever Dave and I go through permutations of work-life balance, we have to make adjustments, not just in logistics, but in what it means to inhabit differing proportions of differing worlds. Where we spend our work day affects how we experience the space and dynamics of home; it affects what our minds dwell on and what it takes to communicate well and feel together in it all.

One example of this is how, with homeschooling, our (entire) house has become a kind of personal workspace. Just as one would organize their office desk, the order and cleanliness of things at home have acquired a new meaning that I forget may seem foreign to Dave, who unlike me still leaves the house for work every day. It’s easy to become microcosmically critical about things he does in our space that I never explicitly communicated about. And now that I don’t have the commute home to decompress, or really any line between work and home, it’s easy for the day’s frustration to leak out upon the only adult I ever see, even just in small ways.

The word “quarrelsome” here can also be translated “contentious.” The best analogy we have is that of continually dripping rain (Proverbs 19:13, 27:15). Dripping rain doesn’t kill you; one drop here or there is not remarkable at all. But the overall effect, if it keeps on going, is just enough to annoy and impair, isn’t it? Everyone who has dealt with a dripping faucet knows how the sound can drive you crazy. Even when it’s only drizzling, you can’t go out and do very much. Eventually anything you leave outside long enough gets soaked through.

That is what being quarrelsome is like: never a notable outburst, nothing that gets it all out in the open, just small squabbles that build up over time, inevitably altering the atmosphere of the home until it becomes a terrible place to live. Proverbs says it’s better to be in a small corner of the roof than in a wide house, better to be in a desert (21:19)! This is a good reminder that the small things we do or say, our facial expressions and tones of voice, matter. Being kind to those closest to us, demonstrating affection, being intentional about communication, is important, more than we realize. And it’s important now more than ever.

Stages Of Life

“The glory of young men is their strength, but the splendor of old men is their gray hair.” – Proverbs 20:29

The Bible Study Fellowship I attended in Virginia was composed mostly of women with, well, gray hair. They would look at me, sleep-deprived, nursing, pregnant, hauling toddlers and diaper bags, or all of the above, and say fondly, “the days are long but the years are short.” I’ll never forget how excited the women in my group were for each new baby I had, how special they made me feel. I was able to emerge from my life of surviving from one nap to the next long enough to hear their wisdom: value the stage that you’re in because it won’t last forever and one day you will miss it.

Our society values youth, almost to the point of being pathological about it, but Proverbs recognizes the strengths of every stage of life. The Hebrew words used here for “glory” and “splendor” both essentially mean beauty. If you look them up in a lexicon, they define each other: the word for glory can also mean splendor; the word for splendor can also mean glory. Yet they are different words. There is a unique kind of beauty to be admired and valued in each stage of life. As Tim Keller writes, “The young have a strength and an unwearied ambition that older people cannot muster. The old have a perspective, wisdom and dignity that younger people have yet to acquire. These are all distinct goods that should be enjoyed in their time.”

We should enjoy these goods. We should look for the beauty in our stage of life. Today I hugged Emmy, the only one who still has some baby fat, a little harder. I noticed Ellie’s goofy theatrics, Eric’s irrepressible energy, and Elijah’s quiet curiosity. They will probably not be so open and unfiltered about sharing these things with me forever. And we should spend time with people in other stages of life, for the wisdom, energy and perspective they can offer. 

We do tend, though, to long for the stages of life we’re not in. No stage is perfect, but one day, our bodies will be resurrected and redeemed. There will be revealed a kind of glory, beauty and splendor that leaves no room for longing (Romans 8:18-23). J. R. R. Tolkien captures a bit of this in his description of the death of Aragorn: “Then a great beauty was revealed in him, so that all who after came there looked on him with wonder; for they saw the grace of his youth, and the valor of his manhood, and the wisdom and majesty of his age were all blended together. And long there he lay, an image of the splendor of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world.”

God Has A Purpose

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.” – Proverbs 19:21

You feel overwhelmed sometimes. Overwhelmed at the interminability of the days, stretching on, bare in the worst ways and full in the hardest ones. You are surrounded by bodies, yet alone. Every day feels like an enormous effort, calling for vast reserves within yourself that you wake up some mornings not sure that you possess. 

Is this time a surprise to you? Was it not what you were expecting this year? It is not a surprise to God. It is fully within the intention of his purpose for you. God knew this time was coming. It is not a surprise to him. He has prepared you for it whether you know it or not.

The temptation to speculate as to the nature of those purposes is strong. And maybe even now you see that something unique is happening, things being unearthed, gifts being exercised, in the crucible of it all. But that is not mostly the point. The point, for today, is just to know that many are the plans in your mind, but what will stand in your life is the purpose of God for you. And he surely has one. 

“You are living through an unusual time… You see that, for the time being, you have to be limited in your movements… It is a new experience for you to feel both the desire and its unreality. You sense that nothing but God’s love can fulfil your deepest need while the pull to other people and things remains strong. It seems that peace and anguish exist side by side in you, that you desire both distraction and prayerful concentration… You know that something totally new, truly unique, is happening within you. It is clear that something in you is dying and something is being born… You feel a strange sadness. An enormous loneliness emerges, but you are not frightened. You feel vulnerable but safe at the same time. Jesus is where you are, and you can trust that he will show you the next step” (pp 15-16, The Inner Voice of Love, Henri Nouwen).

Overlooking Offense

“Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense.” – Proverbs 19:11

Being around the same people at home for extended periods of time has its own challenges. Introverts have lost routines for solitude, extroverts have lost social gatherings. We’ve all lost physical outlets like gym classes and team sports. And there are a million small ways we annoy each other. We’ve gotten to the point where, if the kids can last two hours without someone crying, screaming, or fighting, they get to put a marble in the jar (“is this teaching emotional suppression?” I asked my friend. “Nah,” she replied. “I call it emotional regulation.”). A full jar earns them a movie night, and even though this has resulted in some interesting behaviors (“just wait ten minutes before you cry—we’re almost at the two-hour mark!”), rare are the days we make it all the way through without some kind of emotional outburst.

Sometimes increased proximity unearths issues worth talking about. But part of living together is learning how to overlook an offense. That verb literally means “to let pass by,” as if you are standing on a bridge, watching water flow by under you. Overlooking is not passive: it is not refusing to respond, or burying your feelings inside. Overlooking is actively acknowledging an offense exists, and then consciously deciding to let it go, let it flow down that stream out of view. Not holding it against someone. 

This verse says to do so is our glory: this word means ornament, and is often used to describe outward adornment, like jeweled stones (Exodus 28:2, Ezekiel 23:26), anklets and headbands (Isaiah 3:18), or crowns (Proverbs 4:9, Isaiah 62:3, Ezekiel 23:42). To overlook an offense is not weakness. It is our splendor, something which adds visibly to our beauty. It shapes our characters and gives us an inner beauty that shines out. But in another sense, when we do this we walk in Christlikeness, putting on the very glory of a God who himself is our adornment: “In that day the Lord of hosts will be a crown of glory, and a diadem of beauty, to the remnant of his people” (Isaiah 28:5).

Overlooking an offense does not come without cost. It can take emotional reserve, mental energy, time and effort. But this is how we learn to be slow to anger, to respond with sense rather than react without thought. And in the end, it can become something of great beauty.

Every Step An Arrival

“Desire without knowledge is not good, and whoever makes haste with his feet misses his way.” – Proverbs 19:2

“Oh, it’s not that easy, Lumiere. These things take time.” – Mrs. Potts, ‘Beauty and the Beast’

I read this in a New York Times article today: “Looking back, it’s hard to remember the exact moment we left the old world behind, and entered this new one. How did Ernest Hemingway describe going bankrupt — ‘gradually, and then suddenly’? Like that.” And I realized, that’s how most of us stumbled into this surreal new world: suddenly. And that’s about how fast we expect ourselves to be able to figure it out. There’s something to be said for grasping the bull by the horns: formulating the perfect homeschool schedule, stocking up on groceries and library books, getting the home office or digital platforms up-and-running.

But the fact is, this new reality we’re entering is so comprehensively different, and so potentially chronic, that it will take some time getting used to. It introduces entirely new work and financial pressures, new relational dynamics at home, new chore and errand and educational routines. I’m sure people who were working from home or homeschooling in the old world would tell us that it’s not as simple as plopping down in front of your computer in the living room, or coming up with some ideal class schedule. All of it takes time and figuring out. It takes talking out, rearranging spaces, calibrating expectations, on top of dealing with the emotional adjustment or grief of the change.

This is a matter of pacing, of, to borrow a phrase from Eugene Peterson, a “long obedience in the same direction.” When I race towards an outcome, when I don’t allow for time between steps, I miss everything that is important. Look at this verse in Proverbs: why are these two statements paired together? When we sprint, we think we are only heading faster towards our destination, but in fact we miss it altogether. Our desire for outcome has kept us from real knowledge, from the things we need to learn, the signs we need to look for, the change that needs to happen, for us to actually find our way.

Denise Levertov wrote a poem that ends this way: “nevertheless he / keeps moving, changing / pace and approach but / not direction – ‘every step an arrival.’” Peterson talks about this in his memoir The Pastor: “I recognized in her phrase a metaphor for my own formation as a pastor: every step along the way—becoming the pastor I didn’t know I was becoming and the person I now am, an essential component that was silently and slowly being integrated into a coherent life and vocation—an arrival.”

The integration of a coherent life in this new world happens slowly. Part of pacing ourselves is expecting that these adjustments will take time. Being gracious with failures and frustrations. Being humble and willing to revise our ideas. Finding the right questions to ask to help us learn. Realizing that every step, however feeble, however surprising, however unseen or unacknowledged, is an arrival. That the point is not necessarily to arrive at perfection but to live out a joyous obedience, a growing faith, a tangible gospel. One day at a time.

Answering Before Hearing

“If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.” – Proverbs 18:13

I grew up in a family of speed-talking girls. Both my sisters talk as fast as, if not faster than, me, which meant we could get a lot of conversational ground covered at any given time, but which somehow evolved over the years into a tendency to interrupt each other. It wasn’t until I married Dave, and he called me out on it, that I realized how much I habitually interrupt others, think ahead as they talk, predict what they’re going to say, and finish their sentences for them. I got pretty good in medical school at anticipating what attendings would say and answering questions before they were asked, and in some ways that made me a good student, and was a natural manifestation of the enthusiasm and efficiency I valued, but I’ve since realized how annoying it can be.

There is nothing that shuts off the desire to share more than someone asking, “how are you?” and then interrupting you after you’ve barely started with assertions and assumptions about how you must be feeling or how similar this is to something they’ve gone through. Put simply, it makes you feel that you are not being heard, and thus not being valued. It is an act of vulnerability to share. It requires an expenditure of energy and thought to share. And neither of those are honored when the other person answers before he even listens.

When it comes to answering well, the first thing we must do is listen well. Very often we realize our assumptions are not entirely correct. We learn to listen for underlying subtexts, surrounding contexts, accompanying attitudes, and all the other layers that are at the heart of what someone is asking or sharing. Perhaps we ought not even respond with an answer, but as Jesus so often did, with another question. To listen well before answering is still something I’m very much learning to do. But it is the way to wisdom and honor. To answer before we hear is folly and shame. 

Rebuke

“A rebuke goes deeper into a man of understanding than a hundred blows into a fool.” – Proverbs 17:10

The natural response to reproof is to be defensive. My first impulse is always to justify myself, then to discredit the other person’s points. The impulse is always to reject and deflect. Maybe that’s why this proverb talks about depth. The word for “blows” can also mean “stripes, lashes”: there’s an image there of skin-breaking physical force. The definition of being a fool here is that something which ought to penetrate you doesn’t. It doesn’t make any impression on you, and even if it were to be repeated (which rebukes often are when it’s an issue God is working on in us; have you noticed that?), it would still have no effect.

But a rebuke goes deep into a man of understanding. The word for “understanding” means “to discern, to be able to separate.” Allowing reproof to sink deep into us requires understanding. It requires that we discern the other person and ourselves, that we understand the emotions, worldviews, history, intent, blind spots, and context that plays into it all. It requires true listening, the willingness to set ourselves and our own defenses aside. It requires that we are able to separate what should be taken seriously for change, and what should be listened to and let go of. 

Ultimately, it requires that we have a sure identity: a sense of purpose and value so secure that we are pliable, we are able to absorb, receive, and respond to rebuke without a trace of pride or resentment. We find this in the gospel, which reveals the depth of our own sinfulness while also telling us we are completely secure in God’s love and good purposes for us. Christ’s defenselessness on the cross was not his weakness but his strength; not a sign of ignorance but of deep understanding. He who alone did not deserve anyone’s rebuke received it for our sake, and because of this, we are able to receive the rebuke of others.

Gracious Words

“The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the Lord, but gracious words are pure.” – Proverbs 15:26

Dean suggested last Sunday that one way to show sacrificial love was to “sacrifice that juicy tidbit to point the conversation in a positive direction, and say about others what you would want them to say about you.” That resonated with me. I struggle sometimes, not so much with malicious gossip, but the urge to pass along some annoying interaction or impression. When I struggle with a mom at school, I feel tempted to tell another mom who has also had issues with her. When a personality, opinion, or style of doing things challenges me, I’m tempted to vent to someone more similar to me in those areas. What I am really seeking is validation and sympathy for my annoyance. Maybe mixed in is some genuine openness to advice or desire to be understood, but mostly I want to have an audience to air my grievances. I care more about that than what kind of impression I could be spreading about someone.

The word “pure” has two main meanings. It can mean clean, as in not filthy or dirty, including the idea of ceremonial or Levitical purity, being unsullied before a holy God: “without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish” (Ephesians 5:27). It can mean unmixed or unalloyed, single, without hypocrisy, without folds, open, nothing hidden. This gets at the idea of true sincerity, being single-minded, having single-eyed devotion: “unite my heart to fear thy name” (Psalm 86:11).

Gracious words are pure. They safeguard us from being dirtied by the sin of complaint or judgment, and they safeguard the reputation of others. Have you noticed that there is a kind of power or reality that is birthed when you speak your thoughts out loud? We may have abominable thoughts, but we can still guard our words; sometimes we are able to stop patterns of sinful thinking by changing what we say. Gracious words also do not give room for division or hypocrisy; they keep our selfishness from creeping in and spreading to others by example. 

“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths,” Paul says in Ephesians 4:29, “but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” Gracious words are those that give grace. They come at a cost: after all, the grace Jesus gives us, though free, is costly. Do I desire purity of substance and heart before God? Am I willing to give up my own rights or comforts or sinful tendencies, so that I can give others the grace I myself have received, through my words? 

Ponders Or Pours

“The heart of the righteous ponders how to answer, but the mouth of the wicked pours out evil things.” – Proverbs 15:28

Why is it easy to speak to nearly everyone else in our lives with more kindness than to our spouse? We can reserve for our spouses not necessarily open disrespect, but a careless, curt, or snappy manner of speech that we would not use to address anyone else. It’s the kind of speech that leaks out in everyday, private moments, when we’re already drained from work, the kids fighting, or any number of other stressors.

The truth is, speaking with care and affection takes a certain level of emotional reserve and intentionality, which I habitually apply to my children, my patients, my friends and ministry partners, more than I do to my husband. I’m grateful he’s a steadfast and safe listener, but there’s a difference between honestly sharing my struggles with him, and displacing my frustrations upon him, and it’s alarmingly easy to forget that he is just as (if not more) deserving and in need of my affection as anyone else. Particularly if you are, like me, not a terribly sensitive person, these things can escape awareness, but they inevitably accrue to affect the atmosphere of the marriage in a way that has effects.

There are two words at play in this proverb, both evoking sounds. “Ponders” is Hebrew hagah and means literally “to murmur, to mutter, to growl”: it is used of the growl of a lion over his prey (discussed in the first post on this blog), of low thunder, of the muttering of an enchanter, of the sound of a harp when struck, of the cooing of doves. These are sounds that create atmosphere, that linger or herald. When we ponder our words, we pause and mull them over. We try them out first in our minds. We consider the tone and pitch they set; we consider how they will go down for the listener; what they portend. 

“Pours” is Hebrew naba and means “to gush out”: the sound of the word itself is meant to mimic that of boiling or bubbling water. When we pour out our words in this sense, we are not in real control; we are letting our words run the path of least resistance. We are deluging the listener. We are venting rather than sharing. We are not being thoughtful.

For some reason, when we pour out our words, they are more likely to be harmful, even evil. Pondering our words gives us the ability to be more intentional about the atmosphere we are creating in our marriage. It is the bent of a heart that cares about righteousness, ultimately not about pleasing our spouse, but being right with God. Our spouse, after all, is His son or daughter, entrusted to us while they are on this earth, as much as He has entrusted to us our children or ministries. God, help me understand the effect of my words on my husband, and to treat him with the care and genuine affection that he needs, that reflects his true worth to me and my true care for him.