The Gift of Wisdom and The Curse of Co-Dependency

I have both. Unfortunately.

I had never considered that I had the gift of wisdom until earlier this year, around Easter. A dear woman spoke a word over me about Lady Wisdom from Proverbs, and how the Lord showed her that I was like this woman. And peering into my life, I see that I do, indeed, have this gift. I can't get a big head about it, though, because it is a GIFT. I didn't earn it, and it certainly doesn't come from always learning things the easy way (which is a nice way to say that I sin a lot).

I also can't brag about this gift because "Hi, I'm Amanda, and I'm in recovery for co-dependency and anger." "Hi, Amanda. We're glad you're here." (This is what I say at Celebrate Recovery, fyi.)

The problem is this: I have the gift of wisdom, but because I am a co-dependent, I want to fix people--I want to give them solutions to their problems. I want to "help" them--"help" because it is more about me than it is about them. It gives me a sense of control and superiority instead of a sense of love and humility to be used by God. And if they fail to take my advice, anger inevitably follows. That loss of control, that loss of superiority makes me feel powerless, and anger gives me the power I need to triumph in the situation (this is not true, it is just how I think). Herein lies my problem.

Now, I know I don't ALWAYS operate out of my co-dependency. Thank God! I'm grateful for the Holy Spirit and the ways He has used my gifts to bring Himself glory. But I often, in order to gratify my flesh, find myself wielding advice that no one asked for, taking on burdens that are not mine to carry, and worrying over other people's decisions (that, of course, I wouldn't have made).

In the same breath, I can say that people routinely seek my counsel. I'm learning, though, that I am not their personal prophet. I am Abba's child, used of Him, and it is my desire to point them to HIM like John the Baptist did--"He must increase, but I must decrease." I've found in the past that I will speak the wisdom of the Lord over someone's situation, but He is not the focal point, my wisdom is. So, in that, I must say that I have robbed my Father of His glory.

My prayer now is that when I am asked for my wisdom in a situation, I will first seek Him. I will speak His words, but I will conclude with the statement, "But you must seek Him and His will--you must test and weigh what I say with the Holy Spirit; and you must get your full direction from Him. I am here to edify and encourage you towards Him, not towards myself."

I also must say that as I have been learning about myself for the past couple of years, I have also learned that I don't like it when people try to fix me. I'm sure others feel the same way when I do this to them! Novel!!! I have had to set boundaries in several areas of my life where I do not give myself the opportunity to fix others, nor do I allow others to fix me. Only Jesus can be what I need. Only He can heal my pain, my anger, my co-dependency, and in realizing that, I see that only He can do this for others as well; I am not qualified.

That is a load off my mind.

Oh, the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus!

I've been thinking about sorrow and grief multiple times over the last month. I've had three friends miscarry their sweet babies, and hearing that news just never gets easier.

It's also been on my mind a lot because the baby I lost would have been due this week. I've thought so many times about how I would have been close to delivery, eagerly anticipating his/her arrival, and our lives would be changed again. Watching my friends walk through the journey without me has not been easy; in fact, it has just sucked. I certainly wish no ill will on anyone, and I am happy for them; it's just hard to watch them knowing that I won't get to experience that with the baby I lost. I think I am in the final stage of grief, and I think this too shall pass as this date passes me by.

I miss that little baby, conceived in love and commitment, created for a purpose. I was honored to be his/her mommy for just a short amount of time. But, I'm still sad. Even with two wiggly boys in my womb right now, I still feel the loss of that precious one. Just because I was able to conceive again doesn't mean that the love and memory of that precious one has been erased. I will never forget that sweet child.

Last night, after hearing of another friend miscarrying, I began thinking of Jesus, dying on the cross, becoming sin for us and carrying our sorrows. Isaiah 53 says,

3 He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

⁴ Surely he took up our infirmities
and carried our sorrows,
yet we considered him stricken by God,
smitten by him, and afflicted.

⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.

Jesus, the Son of God, the Son of man, understands the grief and sorrow that comes with loss of a child. Because of His great sacrifice on the cross, He acquainted himself with these very griefs. He experienced ALL of it on the cross. He is the ideal one to carry us through the grief and sorrow ourselves. I am so thankful for this beautiful gift--one who can understand perfectly what I am going through because He has ALREADY CARRIED IT for me. I can lean on Him and trust Him in my sorrow.

Occasionally, I will still have a sad moment, but through it all, the overwhelming and predominant feeling in the midst of sorrow has been JOY. JOY in Him--that He loves me, that He would carry my burdens, that He is my strength, that He is my hope. I pray that my friends experience this Deep, Deep, Love of Jesus. I pray that they are touched by His Joy and can be filled with it in the midst of their own sorrow.

We are healed by His stripes. We are whole in Him. We lack nothing. We have everything. All will be restored. All will be made new. Praise Him!!!

I'm a Failure, and It's Okay.

I think I probably fail more than I succeed. I attribute this to being human. I am not without error. How I handle failure is often more telling of my beliefs than the actual failures themselves.

I think we're scared of the word "failure". We've been taught not to call ourselves that because then we can't "do whatever we put our minds to". I don't think we need to be scared of it. Failure is inevitable. We're all going to mess up; we've all sinned. We're all imperfect and wicked at times. We think impure thoughts, we get angry and murder people in our minds, and we willfully do the wrong thing--over and over.

Why are we scared to fail? Is it because we're afraid of what people will think of us when we announce that we failed? Or is it because we know we're not "good enough" for God?

Take comfort, friends.

You're not good enough for God...on your own.

Knowing Jesus makes you good enough in EVERY way. Despite your human failures, the blood of Jesus shines through, His grace covers, and His love overwhelms every single failure.

Did you know that Jesus BECAME sin on the cross? He didn't just carry it--HE BECAME SIN. What does that mean for us? Every single failure--He became it. He put to death those failures, and He rose victorious over them. Because He did that, we also died to them and rose victorious over them.

So, I sinned today. You did too. We both failed.

But...

we trust in His death and resurrection over those sins, and we can rise to walk in His victorious life.

He's not mad at us.
He's not disappointed in us.
He's not surprised at us.

He's pleased with us.
He's rejoicing over us.
He knows us intimately.
He loves us.

So stop acting like He's a meanie out to get you. You couldn't be further from the truth.