I have a vivid memory of singing a particular song at school chapel when I was a child, an inspiring hymn with words written by two New Churchmen, which began: “As warriors true before the Lord we stand, In battle front awaiting His command.”  This hymn is included in the church liturgy we use in my local congregation, in a short section of hymns entitled “Spiritual Battle.”  

I have been thinking about the messages about spiritual life that we tell ourselves and our kids.  In my experience, we often emphasize being truly loving and kind people, and that message is incredibly important and must always be present, tempering all our words and actions.  But true love and true kindness require more than making ourselves and others “feel happy” in the moment.  Equally important is another message which often seems to get less attention, a message that can be incredibly inspiring to both us and our children:  “Work to be a person who shows courage and endurance by standing up for or holding on to what is true and what is truly loving in the face of the outright attacks or subtle resistance that the forces of evil place in your path.”

Around this time last year, I was in the throes of navigating a conflict of moral values with a dear friend. The process was one of painful reflection and growth and I thought that perhaps some of my discoveries along the way might prove useful to others who find themselves in similar rocky situations. 

Insight #1: “Live and let live” only works to a point.
In my recent experience, the point of no return was when my friend started actively living in spiritual disorder. It was one thing to know she believed in and supported this disorder. After all, this errant belief wasn’t her entire identity, and we had lots in common outside this realm of friction. That’s why the friendship worked as long as it did. But when she embraced this disorder and it became an active part of her daily life, then I knew something had to change. 

Insight #2: Healthy boundaries begin and end with safety.
I had to reflect long and hard on the extent to which I could express my abiding care and respect for this friend while not condoning lifestyle choices that I believe are in spiritual disorder. Similarly, she had to express her own boundaries, given my opposing beliefs. In other words, we both needed to feel safe in our relationship. In order to do that, we had to accept each other’s boundaries. We ultimately realized that this wasn’t possible and that the friendship had run its course. Wishing this friend farewell was the right thing to do given the circumstances, and it was also one of the hardest things I have ever willingly chosen to do.

Insight #3: I can only control my choices and reactions.
I had to let go of this person’s reactions to my stating my boundaries. I had no control over her feelings or her choices. I only had control over mine. Letting go of her responses to my boundaries was a really arduous process. After all, I like being liked. It tore me up thinking that someone I held dear might hold my values in contempt. In this process, I developed a nasty tendency to fabricate imaginary “what if” conversations and scenarios in which I spoke for both myself and my friend. Doing that is just a tangled up terrible idea. I can’t predict the reactions of others. I can’t control their reactions either. I have to let the “what ifs” go and hold firm to my truth, as lovingly as I can.

Insight #4: Where moral principles are concerned, honesty is okay even if it hurts.
One of the hardest things about defining and then communicating my moral boundaries was that it resulted in hurting someone I care about very much. A distaste for conflict and a fear of forever altering (and ultimately damaging) a relationship I had cherished, meant that it took me an embarrassingly long time to stand up for my beliefs. Drawing it out like that led to my friend feeling betrayed. That wasn’t fair to either of us. I wish I had spoken up sooner, but the hells really like to use pain as a weapon. They wanted to make me feel guilty for causing pain. They also wanted me to fear feeling pain. But spiritual growth and boundary-setting can and will be painful sometimes. Pain doesn’t mean it’s wrong. I regret that I may have deepened the pain by waiting so long to set my boundaries, but I don’t regret setting them. 

Insight #5: Balancing compassion and zeal is crucial.
Of course, it’s important to set boundaries as compassionately and respectfully as possible. It isn’t wrong to care about hurting another person’s feelings. We are supposed to care! But, as I navigated this difficult situation with my friend, I found myself slipping so far into guilt and worry about her reactions, that I nearly forgot why I was setting these boundaries in the first place. Something I love, something I believe the Lord tells us is right and good, was being violated. It was right to stand up for it. I could honor her free will to reject what I believe, but I had to put just as much, if not more energy into remembering why I’ve chosen to uphold this belief. 

Insight #6: Pray, accept your choice, and move on.
Dealing with this moral conflict was a huge growing experience for me. I had to pray a lot, asking the Lord for guidance on what to say and for confidence that I was doing the right thing, even if it was hard. I did not handle this situation perfectly. But I can confidently say that I did my best to follow the Lord’s teachings. That’s as much as I can ask of myself or of anyone. After that, I had to pray for the willingness to hand the situation over to the Lord and move forward on my own spiritual journey. I trust that my friend, like all human beings, is in His loving hands. I don’t have to carry this burden anymore. He’s got it. 

“Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves. But beware of men, for they will deliver you up to councils and scourge you in their synagogues. You will be brought before governors and kings for My sake, as a testimony to them and to the Gentiles. But when they deliver you up, do not worry about how or what you should speak. For it will be given to you in that hour what you should speak; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.

Now brother will deliver up brother to death, and a father his child; and children will rise up against parents and cause them to be put to death. And you will be hated by all for My name’s sake. But he who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in this city, flee to another. For assuredly, I say to you, you will not have gone through the cities of Israel before the Son of Man comes.

A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for a disciple that he be like his teacher, and a servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more will they call those of his household! Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.

Whatever I tell you in the dark, speak in the light; and what you hear in the ear, preach on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. But rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”

Matthew 10:16-31

tran·si·tion
/tranˈziSH(ə)n/

noun: transition
1. the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.
verb: transition
1. undergo or cause to undergo a process or period of transition.

Origin
1. late Middle English (in the sense ‘grammatical transitivity’): from Latin transitio(n-), from transire ‘go across’.

The process of changing, going across one state to another. Metamorphosis, but for humans? Pretty much.

I recently underwent a massive transition: my family and I moved – not just from one street to another, one town, one state or even one country to another, but from one continent, one hemisphere to another, from Australia to Canada; approximately 13,573.08 kilometers or 8,433.92 miles, as the crow flies. That’s a BIG transition! That’s so big that our furniture took nearly three months to catch up with us.

Why did we do this? For something better. It wasn’t that we didn’t love our previous situation: we certainly did, and we miss it sorely, sometimes. For my husband, it was for a change, a new challenge; for me, it was for family. We’ve transitioned our lives from Hurstville to Toronto. We can’t turn back now, for better and for worse. 

One early spring I sat at the top of the Bryn Athyn church hill, looking down and over all the dead-looking trees. The grass was starting to show patchy hints of green, but the trees still just looked greyish brown and bare. Initially this view elicited a longing for a different, greener one, but it struck me that if I could look up close at a single branch, I’d probably find the beginnings of little buds – tiny signs of life starting to sprout up everywhere as the world slowly began to warm with spring. Yet from my distant vantage point, it all appeared quite bare. I looked out over the grey grove again, this time beholding an invisible abundance of thousands of things. 

Of course it can be easier to have peace in the Lord’s providence when it blossoms into something noticeable for us, but much of life requires trust in what we can’t see. The message I received sitting on the hill wasn’t simply that one day there would be blossoms and green foliage, but that right there before my unseeing eyes were thousands of budding things; the living, breathing providence I accidentally attribute to the future. Right now, already. Even in the tangled grey branches that show me no signs of it. Even in the grey seasons that feel impossibly long or heavy. How curious that from a distance, when we think we have a clear view, we miss the living, evolving actuality of what we’re looking at. How mind bending that these quiet things aren’t merely happening here and there, but perhaps overwhelmingly everywhere. It’s a fun and easy paradigm shift with trees. 

What might it mean for there to be that much life where we mostly see grey in our own worlds? In the unknowns, the pains of the world, concern for loved ones, the whys, the messiness of healing and regenerating. I’ve found this concept particularly challenging yet essential when it comes to the repetitive practices of internal (and interrelational) work that can feel so inadequate in the big picture of where I’m trying to go. I realize and re-realize how futile my part alone would be without the Lord doing the rest. In fact, a big part of the job is giving back to the Lord what I never could hold – trusting what is already alive in His hands, even when I can’t see it. Can we believe that just as warmth and light have the world on the brink of blossom in early spring, the Lord is fostering something equally lovely and promising in our lives? Not one day, but right now. 

“No one knows how the Lord leads and teaches man inwardly, just as no one knows how the soul operates so that the eye sees, the ear hears, the tongue and mouth speak, the heart circulates the blood, the lungs breathe, the stomach digests, the liver and the pancreas distribute, the kidneys secrete, and much else. These processes do not come to man’s perception or sensation. The same is true of what the Lord does in the infinitely more numerous interior substances and forms of the mind.” Divine Providence 174