The Me I Want to Be

ortbergDuring my week recovering from surgery, my mother-in-law Sara was a godsend. She took care of Alice, cleaned my bathrooms, did my laundry. She also recommended a book called The Me I Want to Be by John Ortberg, which I picked up at the library and am now about halfway through.

I’m convinced I not only need to buy my own copy, but that I need to buy copies for everyone I know. And that I should re-read this book at least once a year in perpetuity. In fact, this book is already on the way to every member of my immediate family (and I already know my Dad is going to love this guy’s sense of humor, since it’s exactly like his).

In the very first chapter, Ortberg says that he used to evaluate his spiritual life by his faithfulness with devotionals–a daily set-aside time for Bible-reading and prayer. That’s my tendency; I’m disciplined, a lover of routine. I can read the Bible once a day (and enjoy it!)–that’s not a problem. But there is a problem with evaluating oneself that way: a Pharisee would get a high pass! Ortberg suggests that a better way to evaluate your spiritual life is by asking two questions: Have I been growing more easily discrouaged recently? Have I been more easily irritated recently?

If the answer to these questions is ‘Yes,’ then I’m struggling spiritually with peace and love, two of the pillars of a thriving spiritual life. And guess what I answered to those two questions?

A resounding ‘yes.’ Not just since my ectopic pregnancy and surgery, but starting this spring and until now, I’ve been struggling with happiness. I’ve been feeling angry, irritable and discouraged at my job, at home, with my circumstances. So what that I’m reading the Bible once a day? Something hasn’t been right in my spirit.

Every chapter of Ortberg’s book has been like that for me: eye-opening. Refreshing. Bringing self-examination, but with a message of hope (because the gospel is hope).

Based on the title, you might think this book leans in the self-help direction, or perhaps has a kind of narcissistic “find yourself” bent. Neither is the case. This book is solid. Ortberg, a pastor at Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, takes us to Scripture and reminds us of the wonderful truths in it. He’s not presenting anything new, but he writes about these truths in a fresh way that I am just loving.

I’m reading the chapter right now on anxiety, and how the Spirit is a non-anxious presence in our hearts. It’s wonderful, and it’s reminding me of the immense freedom I have in my relationship with God. Freedom to enjoy him, to grow in the Spirit, and to become more myself.

Pick up a copy–but not at the library. This book is worth owning!

Built on Nothing Less

As I recover from my ectopic pregnancy and the ensuing surgery, there are ups and downs. Some days I feel like the worst is behind me, only to fall all the way back down into sadness the next day.

One thing I’ve been thinking about a lot is what I want for the future. I’m tempted to just say, “I want another baby.” I’m tempted to let my daydreams go there when I’m feeling sad. But if I hang my hopes on that, I know it’s not going to be good. It will breed anxiety, probably disappointment, and a life-stealing obsession. It’s okay for me to want a baby . . . but I’m reminding myself of the wonderful words of the hymn:

My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus’ blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest frame
but wholly lean on Jesus’ name

I’ve been singing that over and over–out loud and in my mind–over the past 3 or 4 days. And it helps remind me to surrender. Every time I think, “I just want another pregnancy, as quickly as possible,” I have been disciplining myself to open my hands (sometimes with a real physical gesture) and say, “Lord, you know what I want, but I give this desire to you.” I dare not trust the sweetest frame–not even having a healthy baby immediately. Instead, I will trust his goodness and let that be what I hope in. I may have a baby in 9 or 10 months–I may never have a baby from my own body again. I can’t stand on the foundation of that hope, because it’s sinking sand.

I don’t want to become obsessed with being pregnant, bitter about other pregnancies around me, unable to rejoice over what I have right now–an amazing husband and daughter. I want to be overflowing with a hope that’s placed on the only firm foundation.

Another thought I’ve had comes from Proverbs 3:

Happy are those who find wisdom, and those who get understanding,
for her income is better than silver, and her revenue better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels, and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her; those who hold her fast are called happy.

Really? Nothing I desire can compare with wisdom–not even my desire for a wriggly, fat little cherub in my arms?

I’ve been thinking–if God gives me ten wriggly, cherubic kids but I don’t have wisdom, what good is that? He can give me the blessings I ask for–like more children, a job for my husband, etc–but if I’m a fool, what good is that? Then I’m just a fool with ten kids and more money.

I believe God is bringing and will continue to bring me wisdom through this loss. I want to treasure that . . . and I’m starting to.

I’m not done mourning. But the Spirit is comforting me through Scripture and hymns, reminding me: hope in Christ. Treasure wisdom. Happiness is not always where you think it is. Look to me.