An extended silence here on the blog indicates one of a few things. Either I’m too busy living life to blog about it, or we’re going through something that weighs on me, so I feel like I can’t blog, or someone has been sick. Well, no one has been sick, but those other two things are definitely happening. I’m still wrestling with this situation, and there may be some unintended implications here, but this is where I am right now.
What I have had to face in roaring technocolor the last seven days is the tearing down of my own cherished idol. I have faced it, as it crumbled, and come to the shocking realization that it is me. The short version: after a year of trying to sell our house in Georgia, with three deadline extensions, and two potential sales falling through, we lost it to foreclosure last Tuesday. I was angry with God and with myself and for the first time in my adult life I could not see a hopeful glimmer in the future. In fact, I felt as though I had spent a year pushing toward the light at the end of the tunnel, just to have that tunnel suddenly dead end and then collapse behind me.
This was the last straw, and suddenly I became everything that not that long ago I would have claimed to be wrong with America. Not that long ago, I was an angry conservative who could be heard to rail against deadbeats. Now I am one. I have become the “they” I despised. No matter what the pundit might be saying, when a talking head (or headless voice, in the case of radio) begins ranting about “they”, it is always me they are describing. I am the uneducated woman who birthed more babies than I can afford to support right now. I am on social assistance, and our house was just foreclosed. We don’t earn enough to pay taxes, but we get a “refund” every year from the redistributive policies in the tax code. We are “they.” Those people I often described as parasites who are sucking up the resources of this country and putting small business in jeopardy.
On the other hand, we could also be described as “bitter, . . . clinging to guns or religion” and teaching our children to believe the same things. We are “they” who have recently been irrationally re-titled “pro-rape” because we don’t believe in punishing a child for the sins of his father.
Fox News and MSNBC would be united in their distaste for me. As our friend Ben so aptly phrased it, there is not a single political candidate on this continent who wants us voting for them (or even voting at all.) Of course we can’t vote, because we’re immigrants who are working jobs that Americans should be working. Oh look: another they.
The very fact that I have been so completely devastated by becoming all of these things reveals first, that I have been thinking of myself far more highly than I have any right to. I have been finding my value in doing the “right things,” and making the “right decisions,” instead of being known by the sovereign creator of the universe. For three days I said to Jonathan, “How is God glorified in this?” when what I meant was, “How am I glorified in this? Because if people think poorly of me, they cannot think highly of God.” The logic is flawed. Secondly it reveals that all my big talk about grace and how it changes people hadn’t reached the political layers of my heart. I was the worst kind of judgmental bigot: the kind who thought I was defined by grace.
I still do not completely know how God can be glorified in this situation, except to know that the humbling of His people always brings Him glory. What I do know is that the Lord still reigns and while my credit rating may be decimated, my union with Christ is eternal and unshakeable. He clothes the flowers and feeds the birds and has promised to provide my daily bread just as He promised last week.