56. Reptiles in the Basement

Recently I was reading a Life Lessons article from the six-months series I began in 2001. It was very intriguing as I had no recollection of this piece, and even though it was written a couple of decades ago, it is so applicable to life today—in a much broader perspective than family.

 

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And God spake unto Israel in the visions of the night (Genesis 46:2a).

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Saturday morning. I should have been able to sleep in, but Rachel’s alarm had been left on and it went off at 6:30 a.m. I jumped out of bed to get it, but she switched it off before I could get to my door. I crawled back into bed, bugged that a good sleep had been cut short. Then I reminded myself that God always has His reasons.

What was that dream I had just been having? Oooo . . . creepy.

We had moved into a different house. Financial difficulty had finally made it easier to move into a smaller, run-down house, rather than to stay in our nice house and fight the pressure. The main floor didn’t look too bad; it’d just had a fresh coat of paint, so cosmetically there was a good face on it.

In the dream, it was the day of the high school’s Big Band Dinner Dance, just as it was in real life. My awareness of the time-frame was God’s way of saying to me, “This is your life, right now.” I was amazed to find us already moved into this new place: I didn’t even remember making the move. Obviously it had happened fast and easily—so fast, in fact, that I hadn’t even seen the basement yet. I decided to go down and have a look.

The basement presented a much different picture from the main floor. There had been no effort made here to cover up the true state of the house. It was dirty, and the concrete floor was cracked and uneven. I saw an old cellar door, stuck slightly ajar. Just outside the door was a poor little cat. It was tied with a heavy cord, one end attached to the wall and the other end tied tightly around its middle, tight enough that the cat could not squirm out of it. (Knowing cats, that’s pretty tight!) However, the cat did not seem to be in much distress; it was used to the discomfort by now. It had plainly been kept there a long time.

I shoved open the creaky door, the bottom scraping across the floor as I pushed. Inside I found another cat, tied the same way as the first. Then I saw something that made my skin crawl. It was a bucket full of strange little reptiles, like salamanders and newts. Most of them were natural, dark colours, but the occasional one was bright yellow, screaming scarlet, or lime green. They had crept in through cracks in the foundation and were now proliferating in this rusty old bucket, one or two of them slipping over the edge now and then as the bucket became too full.

Now I saw why the cats had been kept captive there: they killed and ate the overflow. The cat inside the door got most of them, but now and then a creature would slip out the ill-fitting door, and then the other cat would catch it.

Lord, what does this mean? Is this a spiritual dream, or just random ramblings of my mind? Are You trying to speak to me? The thoughts began to come:

Reptiles, to me, always represent the powers of darkness. Jesus spoke all in one breath of “serpents and scorpions and . . . all the power of the enemy” (Luke 10:19). This was clearly a picture of spiritual oppression. Evil spirits. There were evidently some cracks in our foundation where these repulsive beings were getting in; now they were proliferating right inside our home.

This brought to mind the heaviness that Greg and I experience over some of the choices we have found our teenage children making. How many times have I said that I had a “knot in my gut” as I have tried to pray against the things I see happening! Just like those poor little cats, both tied with a knot around the belly, we are trying to destroy (through prayer) the manifestations that are spilling out of that bucket. The bucket, perhaps, represents the lives of our children. Greg would be the cat outside the door; he’s away from home a lot, but he deals with the things that get away on me, the things I can’t handle on my own.

The worst part of this scenario is that these two cats are spending all their efforts in cleaning up the over-flow, dealing with the final symptoms, their guts in a knot, and no freedom or perspective to deal with the real source of the problem. The breach in the foundation needs to be repaired.

This ugly house is not the place that God chose for us to live; we find ourselves living in this situation because of pressures we could no longer resist. Similarly, in real life, spiritually, we find that we have moved from where God intended us to live. We have succumbed to worldly pressures that have slowly invaded, as our children have persistently tuned to certain radio stations and brought certain magazines and videos into the home. They are very typical kids, and the media they gravitate to reflect worldly values. These media portray attitudes that run to the irreverent, reckless, and rebellious, or that are preoccupied with superficial beauty and ungodly attitudes toward relationships and sex.

Our foundation has been breached as we’ve slowly given in to the insidious and continual pressure of these things. Now there are some strongholds of certain attitudes in our children, spiritually unhealthy kinds of thinking that are reproducing and multiplying right in this house.

The house in my dream has freshly painted walls on the main floor—a good enough front to present to the rest of the world. You’d never guess that underneath, down in the basement, there are some potentially serious issues that need to be addressed.

As I think about all of this, it seems like a weight settles on me, stifling me. I find myself resisting the interpretation of the dream as it comes, hoping that this isn’t really what God is telling me, because it’s too hard to deal with—the thought of trying to change things now. If over the years we have found ourselves gradually less able to uphold as high a standard of godliness as we would have liked—as our children have grown older and been more and more exposed to the ways of the world—how impossible to turn the tide now! How unreasonable to suddenly try to clamp down on our kids and forcibly prevent them from hearing and seeing and doing certain things! They are at an age where they rightfully are making more and more of their own decisions about their lives, just as God intended. They are finding out who they are, who God created them to be, and their journey may take them, at times, in a rather roundabout way. If we were to try to drastically increase control now, we would probably incite full-fledged rebellion. “Provoke not your children to wrath,” is a solemn caution to parents.¹

Even as I feel this heaviness, though, this dread of trying to deal with the problems, I sense God reassuring me: His way of addressing these issues is not the way of coercion and bondage. Not between Him and us; not between us and our children. He will not put on us a weight too grievous to be borne.² All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth.³ “Come now, and let us reason together,” He says.⁴

Just as He wants to sit and talk with us, He wants to teach us how to sit and discourse and truly communicate with our children. We can continue to nurture and admonish them in the Lord,⁵ gently correcting and teaching, every day. Trying to restrict our children’s choices at this point would be like trying to remove all of the reptiles. It’s a short-sighted plan. We need, rather, to repair the foundation.

The truth of God is our sure foundation. Where the truth has been breached, He will show us how to apply more truth as needed, carrying it with us like a bucket of mortar in one hand and a trowel in the other: here a little, there a little.

Even as God promises to extend mercy and truth to us, He will show us how to extend mercy and truth to our children: guidance based not on fear but on faith—faith in God’s ability to save them to the uttermost.⁶

Let them repair the breaches of the house, wheresoever any breach shall be found (II Kings 12:5b).

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1) Ephesians 6:4a; 

2) cf. Luke 11:46; 

3) Psalm 25:10; 

4) Isaiah 1:18; 

5) Ephesians 6:4b; 

6) Hebrews 7:25

55. Happiness

“Sitting on the porch where it’s cold but sunny”—these words came to mind as I sat down with a snack today on the steps of the back deck. The temperature was hovering around zero, but the pale November sunlight was lovely and the air was still. The words that came to mind were from a short poem I wrote in November 50 years ago. I was 20 years old. This was almost four years before I met the Lord and a decade before I met my dear husband. I had dropped out of university after two years, confused and frightened by life, and had retreated alone to a cabin on a lake. I had decided to become a hermit.

The snack I was eating on the porch of my cabin so many years ago was toast and honey, made with my own whole-wheat bread, along with a steaming mug of tea. As I remembered that day, I thought of something: Over the years that followed, I gradually became unable to partake of anything in that snack. I became intolerant of caffeine, so black tea (not to mention coffee) was blacklisted. I had loved orange pekoe with honey and milk, but besides the caffeine, I began to have problems with dairy as well. I decided I must be lactose-intolerant.

Then anything made with flour began to bother me, so I surmised that I was gluten-intolerant. In fact, I was reacting to yeast also, so toast was “toast,” as was any kind of bread. Then I began to find that anything sweet was a problem: I could no longer eat or drink anything containing sugar. Honey was just as bad. Ten years ago today, I could not have eaten or drunk any part of that snack, and I had come to believe that this was the way it would be for the rest of my life. Realizing this as I sat there today in the chilly sunshine, I was suddenly washed in a wave of gratitude for what God has done: He gradually taught me what had gone wrong with my health and how to restore it. Everything in that snack is now “back on the table.”

Here is the little poem I wrote that day, enjoying my snack in the solitude and safety of my hermitage.

Happiness—so simple it’s almost funny

Frost-nipped toes and a nose slightly runny

Sitting on the porch where it’s cold but sunny

Drinking tea and eating whole-wheat toast with honey

54. But That’s Okay

Last week, Greg and I took a two-day holiday in the camper and drove three hours to the tiny arts community of Rosebud to take in a live theatre production. As I always do now, I had asked the Lord as I packed exactly what supplements I needed to take along to continue my healing journey and to settle any symptoms that might arise. He said there were just a couple of things I would need, along with my masala tea.

Generally, “masala” is an Indian word for spice blend; tea masala specifically is a mix you put in your tea. The spices are packed with various kinds of antioxidants, all of which neutralize toxins in the bloodstream. Since I began drinking it a year ago, I don’t think I’ve missed a day. First thing in the morning, with honey and organic cream, it is an absolute delight, and it quickly dispels the uncomfortable symptoms I still often wake up with. It has greatly reduced my need for detox supplements.

That first morning of our little holiday, I woke up in the early chill with a headache. Masala tea would straighten it right out. I got up, put on the kettle, and got out my little bag of teas and accessories. What a shock I got when I found that I had forgotten to put in my tiny jar of masala. The first emotion was fear: What will happen without an antidote to neutralize the continual stream of toxins? The second emotion was frustration: We finally have a chance to get away together and I’m going to spend the whole time feeling horrible.

From the first moments of realization of my oversight and the accompanying negative emotions, I could hear God trying to get through: “I am still here. I can help you. I AM what you need.”

It couldn’t be that easy. I had some heavy emotions that wanted my full attention. I felt completely entangled in their grip. I didn’t even know if I wanted to get free. The nebulous fear was shaping into an anxious self-concern; the frustration was growing into anger. Still God was trying to gently draw me: “Turn to ME.”

With my will, I determinedly rose above my mind and emotions. I willed my body to kneel on the cold floor, and I put my face in my hands on the bench in front of me. I began to whisper to Jesus. “Help me, Lord. Help me, Lord.” Slowly the grace of God began to trickle into me, and slowly the fear and frustration seeped out. It was like a spiritual transfusion. I stayed there whispering quietly until I found myself strengthened by sustenance from another realm.

In due course, we arrived at the gourmet luncheon that preceded the afternoon show. It was a wonderful time, and I was free to enjoy it because I was trusting God. The emcee mentioned in his greeting that they had a new coffee bar that the audience might want to check out after the show, and of course that was Greg’s first priority once the curtain calls were done.

I asked one of the girls behind the counter if they had any chai tea, and if so, were the ingredients listed? What we call chai tea in this country is basically a masala tea. But all too often, the contents are adulterated with “natural flavours.” Sure enough, that’s what I found when I read the package.

“Thanks anyway,” I said to the girl, explaining why it wouldn’t work for me.

“I think we have a few bags from some other brands somewhere,” she said. She went off to look. Meanwhile I retreated to a side counter to get out of the way. A staff member had left a notebook lying there, and I was so struck with the meme on the cover that I snapped a photo.

“Things are going exactly as I planned ...” (my words: “I’d thought I had everything organized”)

“but not really ...” (my words: “but things had gone sideways”)

“but that’s okay” (my words: “God, however, had not been caught off-guard”)

The girl came back and handed me two different teas. The first one had a typical line-up of spices and then the almost inevitable “natural flavours.” No big surprise. Pure teas are now few and far between.

I checked the other, the “Tazo” brand: “black teas, ginger, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamom, cloves, star anise.” All “organically grown.” And no “natural” flavours added. I was exceedingly blessed by the kind provision of God. 

The girl sold me two tea bags, and I slipped out to our camper nearby on the street. I brewed up one bag, adding honey and organic cream. The other bag would be most welcome tomorrow morning.

Things are going exactly as I planned
(But not really)
(But that’s okay)

It’s “okay” because, as the poet Browning said, “God’s in His heaven; all’s right with the world.” Or as Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble [anything from a relatively minor inconvenience to a life-and-death situation], but cheer up; don’t be afraid, for I have overcome the world. Therefore you can overcome the world as well, if you stick close to Me and do what I say.”