For such a time as this

My enemy has a name.  Satan.  He is old.  He is wise.  He is an ego-maniac.  He’s crafty.  But he hasn’t come up with any new strategies in a very long time.  I’ve thought, ‘this guy isn’t so smart after all. He hasn’t had a new idea in ages.’

His first strategy is doubt.  Along with that comes suspicion and the actions that proceed from suspicion.

Consider the Garden.  Eden.  Beautiful.  Bountiful.  All that Man and Woman could want and fellowship with their creator in one awe inspiring place.  God placed only one restriction, a reminder that they were created, He was Creator.  A tree.  Have all I have provided for you, said God, but stay away from that one tree.  Adam and Eve had a 359-degree view of God’s love and abundance and provision.  Yet by the deception of the Enemy, their focus was turned to the 1-degree of restriction.

Did God really say that?  Did God really mean that?  The first trick of his attack was doubt.  Are you sure?  From doubt proceeds suspicion.  Couldn’t God have really meant this instead?  Wasn’t God really trying to hold something back from you? Something even better than all He has provided?  God wasn’t so good and generous after all; in fact, He was trying to deny you out of His malicious nature.  Isn’t that what Satan was whispering to Eve?

And from doubt and suspicion come the actions that destroy.  Eve took the fruit, as did Adam who was there with her.  They hid in shame, relationship and blessing were broken.

Fast forward however many thousands of years and the tactic and results are the same.  It finally occurred to me, after thinking that Satan was severely lacking in creativity, that his ploy was so effective against us stupid humans that he had no reason to change it.  After thousands of years, we’re still falling for the same lame line.

We’ve experienced it so often in our lives and ministry that we now recognize it on sight.  We don’t wonder anymore if the attack will come; we know it’s a foregone conclusion.  We don’t wonder when the attack will come.  It begins the moment we step out in faith to do the work God has called us to – evangelizing and discipling the Saints.  We don’t wonder what the nature of the attack will be.  It follows the identical pattern every time.  The only question is from where, and even to that we’ve learned the answer:  It will come through those closest to us.

The pattern is this:

• God places a call on our lives for ministry and after prayer and confirmation we step out, in faith and obedience, to do the work we’ve been called to do.
• There’s a brief honeymoon period.  A time to become immersed in the ministry and begin building relationships.
• Then the attack begins.  Satan introduces doubt.  Not in us, but in those around us.  Are they really called to ministry?  Are they truly living and teaching the Word of Christ?  Do they really belong here?
• From doubt comes suspicion.  They’re not really out to serve others, but are selfish and serving themselves somehow.  It’s all about them and not about the Gospel.  They really have a malicious intent and can’t be trusted.
• From suspicion comes actions.  Rumors.  Accusations.  Slander.  Confrontations.  Verbal attacks.  Destroyed relationships.  Occassionaly, derailed ministry.

The first time or two that I experienced this, I was devastated.  How could those whom I loved and trusted, fellow Christians, turn on me and my husband so viciously?  It broke my heart.  But after the third or fourth time (I’m slow sometimes), I began to recognize the pattern and the source. 

Still I get weary.  And I mourn the loss of friends and family relationships.  Mostly I get angry that my Enemy would use my loved ones, unarmed Believers, as weapons.

We’ve had deep, loving, trusting relationships with friends, Believers all, that turned suddenly and unexpectedly.  They said, What makes you think God has called you?  They’ve accused us of selfish motives as we followed God’s lead in seeking to evangelize and reach a neighborhood of unchurched families.  When that didn’t work, they attacked our marriage.

The enemy has used so called ‘Pillars of the Church’ with much the same argument.  No, they are not here to serve, they accused, although we served in men’s, women’s, and children’s ministry, along with worship and outreach.  They are here for selfish reasons, though no one has ever identified what those selfish reasons might be.

The most hurtful, and most frequent attack is from within our own family.  The Enemy has used a parent, our children, even extended family.  The pattern is always the same:  Doubt – Are they really sane?  Are they really called to ministry?  Are they really (fill in the blank)?  Suspicion – Aren’t they really selfish and self-serving?  Aren’t they possibly dangerous, even deadly?  Aren’t they really (again, fill in the blank)? 

And action.  I think the way the Enemy works most effectively is the filter he puts up through which we process our thoughts and interpretations.  If the filter you wear is one of hope and trust and forgiveness, then you will respond positively and lovingly even to the mistakes of those around you.  I hope that you mean me good and not evil.  I trust that, even though I may not see it in your actions at this moment, you intend kindness toward me and I will give you the benefit of the doubt.  And if you have wounded me, I will forgive you and keep loving you.

If instead you wear the filter that the enemy has given you, one of hostility, suspicion, and distrust, how then will you respond?  They have become angry or impatient, therefore they must be dangerous and violent.  They are often leading, teaching, discipling, therefore they must be seeking ego gratification.  They have moved on to a new work for God, therefore they must be running away from sin and discipline.  They have reached out to teach, correct, guide, nurture, therefore they must be lusting for control.

I have learned that to follow God means to sacrifice everything but God.  Loving Jesus means incurring hatred and wrath from the world.  That’s no surprise; Jesus warns us of that Himself.  Greater is He that is in me than he that is in the world.  So I no longer fear the attacks of my enemy.  In fact, except for the pain at the words and deeds of loved ones used in the attack, I welcome them.  The attacks are consistently greatest when we are firmly planted in God’s will.  That is when we are the greatest danger to our Enemy and I am happy to be that, in the name of Christ Jesus.

I have also learned that God will repay.  There is nothing that I or my husband have to do to correct the lies or even answer to the accusations.  Time and time again, God has vindicated us.  It may take years for the truth to become known, but it eventually does.  Relationships that were broken have been restored.  Suspicions that clouded our way have cleared.  While my desire sometimes is to confront head on, I’ve learned simply to trust my Creator.  He is my rock, my deliverer, my help in trouble, my source, my calm in the storm.  And those that attack us are not my enemy, they are simply the weapon in the hand of my Enemy.  I do not hate the sword, but the one who wields it.

I ache for those who are not attuned to the enemy’s tactics and become unwitting partners in his battle plan.  I cringe at those times I have been duped and the damage done by my deeds.  I pray for all of us that we would be wise and vigilant.  That the filter through which we see is the one God would give to us and no one else.  That God will continue to vindicate and restore.  I pray that those whom the enemy has wielded for destruction would become aware and seek to be reconciled.

We are at war.  But we will be victorious.  I know.  I read the end of the Book.

In explaining my family to the curious, I’ve often joked that my hobby is raising other women’s children.  It puts a light-hearted spin on the central theme of my life.  I have never given birth, nor will I it appears, and yet there are five outstanding humans that I call my kids.

The other joke is that I had four kids in one day, and I don’t have any stretch marks.  I became a parent, technically a step-parent, the day I said “I Do.”  On May 7, 1995, I had the great privilege of marrying my best friend, Timothy Ray Taylor, and in so doing I inherited an instant family of four children, ages 10-16.

None of the kids were present when we married.  We actually had a very small wedding – thirteen people including the bride and groom.  While I had wanted to wait so the kids could be a part of the ceremony, easing the transition, Tim was exceedingly eager to begin our life together.  Three of the four came to live with us just a few weeks after we married.

Becoming a parent is a process. The child, or in my case children, may be in your home, and you love them and desire to care for them, but becoming a Parent takes time.  With a newborn it’s doesn’t matter that it takes time because the baby’s a blob anyway and by the time they figure out what’s going on, you’ve pretty much figured out the game.

Being a Step-Parent is a different challenge – they already know the game and you’re the one trying to figure it out.

Each of my kids went through their own transitional experiences and, after twelve years together, we’re still trying to figure it out. 

Jeremiah was a senior in high school at 16 and didn’t live with us that first year – or ever really.  He’d stay with us for short stints, but sadly was never really in the picture, though we wanted him to be.  We’ve never developed the kind of relationship I would like.  Still working on that.

Tim was very introverted.  We discovered one night when he was 14 or 15 that he’d run away.  He didn’t go far, just on the walking trail near our apartment.  Still, the terror I felt and the heartache knowing how he was struggling and being unable to do anything to reach out to him tore me apart.  He eventually found his voice and became quite hostile for a time.  There’s always been this chasm between us and I’ve yet to find a way to bridge it.

My relationship with Charlotte started out so beautifully.  Oh how I adored this beautiful little 10 year old girl.  She struggled with issues of loyalty – was it right to love me and her mom at the same time?  But we enjoyed each other and connected so easily.  In her early teens something changed.  Suddenly she shut down and became distant.  It was as if she was withholding her heart, her real self from us and from the world.  Recently that connection has been restored and I think Nathan may have had something to do with that.  But I am grateful for my daughter’s heart and new found openness.

Nathanael was a different story entirely.  I know he had his struggles and I was so gratified that he actually talked about it with me.  In fact, Nate’s the only one in the family, including my husband, who ever asked me what it was like for me to come into this family.  He slipped a couple times and called me Mom instead of JoDana, and in my heart I treasured those mistakes.

And then there is Sabrina.  By birth she is the daughter of my sister-in-law, but she’s mine through and through.  We adopted Sabrina when she was nine, but wanted to kidnap her when she was a toddler.  Sabrina has been through so much and yet is open, giving, and compassionate.

The irony in all this is that I so desparately wanted a child “of my own.”  Having been adopted myself, I have no link genetically to anyone, at least no one I’ll ever know.  I love my family and am grateful to God for the amazing way he brought me into this world and gave me the family He did.  But there is a deep loneliness in my life from that critical lack of connection.  My baby would be the only person in the world with whom I would share that connection.

It’s not that I can’t have children; it’s that I was not permitted to.  To do so would have meant walking away from my marriage and the children I already had.  When I finally saw that reality, I mourned.  The child (who has a name) never existed in anything but my deepest desire, yet my grief was (very nearly) as great as losing a living child.  I can say that with certainty because I know what it is to lose a child, having recently said goodbye to Nathan.

I don’t use the prefix ’step’ when referring to myself or my kids, although they do.  To me it puts a dash, a space, a bit of distance that in my heart doesn’t exist.  My kids are my kids regardless of how they came to be that way – a benefit of being adopted I suppose.  The story of my life is that family has nothing to do with blood.

I get impatient with others who don’t understand that.  When people learn that it was my step-son who died, they often ask how Timothy is doing, as if my own grief is somehow illegitimate.  My husband is broken-hearted, as am I.  I’ve been asked about “real parents”, both mine and my kid’s, referring to birth parents of course.  The real parent is the one who is there, caring, crying, teaching, loving, sacrificing.  Year in and year out.  I’m a real parent, step or not.

I think Nathan knew that.  Perhaps that’s why I’m missing him so much.  I think Charlotte is beginning to.  To Sabrina I am Mommy – the only one she has.  I think Jeremiah and I have reached a point of friendship.  I hope it extends beyond that someday.  With Tim, I don’t know.

I love my kids.  I’ve given up so much and endured so much for the simple reason that I was not willing to give them up.  They have been God’s gift to me above and beyond the gift of my husband.  Even through the difficult years.  I hope that I have been a gift to them too.  Someday, perhaps this side of Heaven, they may understand how much I love them.

I hope so.