Choosing Slavery (the Good Kind)

Celiac disease has a way of narrowing my choices in life.  I get sick from gluten, dairy, and eggs, so when Jeff and I go out to eat, I read menus carefully.  I speak a second language called Allergenish.  Words like breaded and whole grain are translated to “nope” and “no way”.  Creamy means “not for you” and sauces are just plain suspicious.  

Being prone to indecision, this celiac exclusion can be kind of nice.  I know within minutes the two or three options I can order and what modifications I need to request.  I’ll chat with Jeff about what he’s considering and I often urge him to try something off-limits that sounds good to me, but there’s no joy in dwelling on what I can’t have.  People express sympathy that I can’t eat a treat or they ask if I have found gluten-free equivalents.  There are many yummy things that are safe for me and I love things that taste like the pre-diagnosis days, but my response is, 

“I’m grateful to know what makes my body well.  Being healed is way better than any cinnamon roll tastes.”  

I need to hear those words.  My mind and heart need regular affirmation that I am gratefully excluded from the full range of the food world.

This is not to say that I am a slave.  I am quite free to eat whatever I choose.  My naturopath will never know.  My gut knows though.  Eating outside my guidelines not only makes me bloated, uncomfortable, and nauseated, but gluten actually kills the lining of my intestines.  Depression and panic attacks come as side dishes. 

There is a spiritual correlation that I want to understand better.  I am challenged by how much choice we have as Christians.  I believe God leads us, and He’s given us freewill.  In Bible study, we are studying Moses and the Israelites.  God held them to His guidelines and there were deep consequences (like death) for disobedience.    I know I slip up so much.  Is it only Jesus’ death on my behalf that keeps God from ending my life of willful rebellion and negative attitudes?  If that’s the case, then how do I live?  Do my choices matter?  

Absolutely yes. 

Absolutely yes.  Those were the words I used to accept Jeff when he asked if I would be his wife.  The words that declared my choice to commit myself to him for the rest of my life.  The words I used to choose Jeff.  Because whatever kind of life I was going to have, I was going to have it with him.

Read part of Romans 6 with me:

¹⁵ What then? Shall we sin because we are not under the law but under grace? By no means! ¹⁶ Don’t you know that when you offer yourselves to someone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness? ¹⁷ But thanks be to God that, though you used to be slaves to sin, you have come to obey from your heart the pattern of teaching that has now claimed your allegiance. ¹⁸ You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness.

¹⁹ I am using an example from everyday life because of your human limitations. Just as you used to offer yourselves as slaves to impurity and to ever-increasing wickedness, so now offer yourselves as slaves to righteousness leading to holiness. ²⁰ When you were slaves to sin, you were free from the control of righteousness. ²¹ What benefit did you reap at that time from the things you are now ashamed of? Those things result in death!²² But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life.²³ For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in^[b] Christ Jesus our Lord.

Wait- I thought I wasn’t a slave.  Is it somehow possible to be a slave and have freewill?  I think God’s answer is absolutely yes. 

Living according to God’s guidelines is a choice.  It is a choice that narrows our focus like a Celiac reading a menu.  A huge chunk of options are automatically out, a few can be modified, and a few are totally acceptable.  

We can choose what to eat or do in life, and we can also choose how to view our situation.  The menu can be sad (“I can’t have that”), bitter (“I used to love that”), or self-pitying (“Jeff gets to have so much more than me”).  Or, our narrowed choices can reflect the freedom of a new life.  Because I’ve found healing, I choose this option that is in agreement with who I now know I am. 

Maybe the word slave needs a new connotation.  It’s only a negative word if you’re a slave to something oppressive.  Choosing to be Jeff’s wife is beautifully limiting.  I’m so happy to not choose anyone else for the rest of my life if I get to be with Jeff.  I don’t care if I ever taste gluten again because I’m free from all the disaster it wreaks on my body.  I know what is life-giving and what is not.  

Just as I affirm out loud that my eating choices have opened up new, exquisitely healed life, I can say the same of following God.   What could that sound like?  “Yeah, I used to really enjoy pity parties.  I know those make me depressed and ineffective though, so I’m super grateful God gave me peace and joy today.”  I’d certainly feel like a weirdo to say that out loud, but the basis is serious.  If I could be God’s slave my whole life and never be in bondage to anything else, what could be better?  I am gratefully excluded from things that bring death to me and others.

Loving Father,

Thank You for the freedom of choice.  Thank You for Your Word that shows me how to live in a way that brings you fame.  I am so very happy to be Your slave.  That feels strange to say, because I’m not used to the good kind of slavery yet.  It’s by choosing to bind myself to You that I find the most freedom ever – eternal life with You.  That’s what I want.  I want to be with You now and always.  I want that for others too.  Please help us all to choose You and to find perfect delight in ignoring all the stuff that used to seem so temptingly good.  It’s all crap compared to You.  I love You, Jesus.

Your Happy Slave

Opening Up to Open Letters

Not too long ago, I noticed this thing called an open letter.  I’d never heard of one before, and found them to be more critical than encouraging, akin to Frank Costanza’s Festivus “Airing of Grievances.”  They popped up everywhere and became a new pet peeve of mine. 

This morning, as I putzed around my classroom in the quiet moments before the buses released my twenty-two energy balls, I felt down in the dumps.  I hate being a teacher some days.  Before I even begin, I’m behind the curve, unprepared, and frazzled.  The minute the kids arrive, there’s a tattling, a tummy ache, a lost backpack, and on rare occasions, a whispered true tragedy – like a parent who’s left town unexpectedly or a police incident that kept the student awake last night.  I don’t know anyone who could truly do this job on their own strength and I’m still wondering how I can better access God’s power. 

Two of my coworkers came in and shared similar feelings.  How do we keep up with the standards and expectations?  How do we have a moment to really process and think, or even prepare the needed materials?   These two are brilliant teachers.  If they’re feeling inadequate too, there must be others out there.

It’s time to embrace the open letter fad.  Here I go.

Dear Teachers,

You are doing well.  I am dang proud of you and I wish I had money to give you that was more closely aligned with the highly important, high quality work you do every day.  Also, you deserve lots more trust.  I trust you to teach well and use those instincts about your kids to best serve their needs.  Go get ‘em, and forget about anyone who says you aren’t doing enough.   Our world would be severely hurting if you quit.

Love, Brooke

Dear Mothers and Fathers,

You are doing well.  Your kids know you love them and it’s okay that you’re not perfect.  No one truly expects you to be.  There are no awards for the cleanest house or the kid who behaves best at the grocery store.  I would love to give you an award for reading to your child and leaving the dirty dishes in the sink.  Thanks for showing up for the big job of parenting, 24/7.  Your care and perseverance have an eternal impact.   This is kingdom work, worthwhile work.  I hope your child makes you smile today, even if it’s only because they’ve found a new way to get into the cupboard they’re not supposed to get into.  That kind of creativity should be celebrated, eh?

Love, Brooke

Dear Missionaries,

You are doing well.  You made a good decision when you packed up and left.  You made a good decision when you decided to stay.  Whatever level of language you’ve acquired by now, good for you.  Language and culture are pretty tough sometimes.  You can say tomato and that’s awesome.  I can’t say tomato in that language.  When your work looks more like praying and less like a Billy Graham Crusade, and you’re not sure how to put ‘results’ into your next newsletter, I’d like to celebrate with you.  Your prayers rock the spiritual climate of your new home.  Amazing things are happening and God is the one who does all the heavy lifting, so I’m excited about all we can’t yet see in those situations you’re praying about.  Thank you for being a fool for Christ, for putting your pride on the line and giving from your heart – when you want to, and when you’d rather be in the States eating pizza or holding your grandchildren.  I’m so glad you chose to be a missionary.

Love, Brooke

Dear Person Whose Job or Life Situation Never Comes Up in an Open Letter,

You are doing well.  Your life matters and your stage of life is an important part of God’s plans for you.  Whether you’re passionate or whether you’re bored out of your mind on a daily basis, I hope you are paying attention.  A lot of life is happening all around you and those folks need Jesus.  You could be their ‘Jesus with skin on.’  All those little details that you notice and take care of - - thank you for those.  All of those times you’ve questioned yourself and kept going toward what you believe God would have you do - - way to go.  That’s not easy.  Thank you for tithing from whatever comes in.  Thank you for treating your family with care.  Thank you for making eye contact with the grocery store clerk and asking about their day.  These things are not insignificant; they’re golden pieces of Christ in you.  The world needs you and I’m glad you are choosing to be where you are today.

Love, Brooke