The Idols of My Heart

“Son of man, these men have set up idols in their hearts and have put sinful stumbling blocks before their faces. Should I be consulted by them at all?”—Ezekiel 14:3

I recently asked God to reveal the idols of my heart—a dangerous prayer to pray, I know. However, I realize that those idols are stumbling blocks which prohibit my growing intimacy with God. As usual, God responded quickly and I’m still not sure I like what He has revealed to me. This idol is one I never would have recognized without the Holy Spirit’s revelation. In fact, I was so comfortable with this idol I believed it was “holy unto the Lord.” And perhaps if I did not spend so much time and energy devoted to this idol it would be. The idol—which is really an idealization of sorts—is not sinful in and of itself. But my devotion to it—obsession really—is.

So, what is this idol? My children’s success.

Long before Woody’s death, I spent the majority of my time trying to ensure the success of my children, which is not wrong. However, over the years, my idea of how success is defined has become an idol. I never wanted my children to make the same mistakes I did. I held their purity up to the world as a badge of success. “Look at my kids,” I seemed to gloat. “They will not date until they are ready to marry. They will not engage in illegal activity or addictive behaviors. They will never get a divorce. They will marry their one true love who will also be a committed, unadulterated Christian. They will remain pure in all ways because we have raised them in a Christian home and have prayed with and over them. We have covered them in prayer, which will shield them from ALL sinful activity. My kids are perfect!” I could not see how self-righteous and boastful my behavior was. I tried to shield my children from engaging in a sinful world by controlling who their friends were and where we lived. I was such a pompous ____ (you can fill in the blank)! I am sickened by my sanctimonious behavior! What was I thinking?

Actually, I know what I was thinking. I was thinking sin is a set of behaviors not recognizing that it is a heart condition. I should have been more concerned about my kids’ hearts than their actions. Trust me, I thought I was because I thought I had the whole parenting thing down to a science. I had read every book on biblical parenting, had attended parenting seminars, and had read the Bible in its entirety several times. I had a relationship with God and had been redeemed from a life of sin. But I was legalistic and hypocritical. I did not understand God’s grace and mercy. I did not understand the doctrine of sin. I did not recognize how sinful my legalism and judgmental attitude were. I had set up an idol in my heart which I would never recognize until it was smashed to pieces.

My children have made every mistake I did and then some. Divorce? That is on the horizon. Illegal behavior? Yep, that too. Addictions? Adultery? Lies? You name it and we’ll claim it. The perfect life I had dreamed for my children’s future has been completely obliterated. The idol of my heart has been revealed and continues to crumble as I type these words. All that time and energy I spent trying to perfect behavior should have been spent devoted to my God and trusting Him with the hearts of my children.

Since Woody’s death, God has slowly been revealing the nature of my heart to me, and this idol is part of the refining process I have been in since May 10, 2015. Although I am sickened by what I see I am also thankful. I know when all the dross is burned away my life will be a reflection of who God is. Yes, it is painful. Nevertheless, I praise God for answering my prayers even when I do not like what is revealed.

Dreams

It’s the dreams that kill me. I can manage the days so well, in complete control of my environment and my thoughts and then the night comes. My mind is no longer being directed by my consciousness and it ransacks my memories and creates illusions that, although pleasant at the time, remind me of the loss and loneliness. I am startled awake by the chimes of my alarm clock; and I have to take a moment to remember where I am, why I set my alarm, and what day it is. As consciousness awakens to reality, I remember that the security and comfort I was enveloped in only a few moments before as I wandered through the dream state is not real. That is not my reality anymore. Instead I am left with a longing—an aching really—for the only man whom I have ever loved.

Grief is a process and unfortunately, there is not a manual that can adequately guide anyone through it. It is not a “one size fits all” item. It cannot be analyzed, categorized, and placed neatly on a bookshelf ready to be perused at leisure. It is as unique as the individual who experiences it. There are no words which can minimize the effect, although people try in vain to do so. And unless you have been thrown into the gloomy, desolate pit that grief creates and have had to fight for every breath, you cannot fully comprehend or appreciate just how debilitating grief can be. The only glimmer of hope I have had through the whole process has been found in my faith. Although I have been absolutely crushed under the weight of despair, I have felt a peace that can only be explained through the existence of an omnipotent God. However, even faith cannot shelter one from the anguish of loss and horrific trauma. It merely keeps one moving in the face of an overwhelming desire to quit. Faith helps keep the process of healing moving forward.

I am hopeful that someday the dreams in which Woody is alive and well and doing life with me will be as pleasant visitations rather than sorrowful reminders. I am hopeful, too, that I will continue to find joy in the moment. On the tenth it will be one year and six months since that fateful day. Although I am still damaged, progress is being made. I need only look back through my blog posts to see that. I am moving in the right direction. There will just be days when it feels as if I am going nowhere, and today is one of those days because of a dream. But someday not even the dreams will slow me down. I’m just not there yet.

When Will Acceptance Come?

I dreamt that Woody was alive last night. We stood in the kitchen, laughing and talking as if nothing had happened. I was relaxed and content. He told stupid jokes and I rolled my eyes. Woody was home! “Do you want to sit on the deck and have a glass of wine with me?” he queried.

I smiled ready to respond, when something snapped. “No, we can’t! If we do, you’ll die tomorrow.” I rushed toward him. I wanted to hold him tight and feel his heart beating steadily in his chest while his warm breath caress my cheek. But when I reached my arms out to embrace him, he vanished.

I woke up suddenly, shaking with tears in my eyes. It was just a dream. Woody is never coming home. I will never snuggle up to him on a cold night and laugh as he jumps out of his skin as I touch him with my icy fingers. I will never smell him again as I pull one of his shirts from the laundry basket. I will never gaze into those caramel brown eyes with flecks of green as all my resistance rushes out the door. No, I must accept the fact that he is gone

.

And yet occasionally in my dreams he is still here and very much alive. It is as if my mind were playing some cruel joke on me. I want to scream and cry. Why can’t my subconscious accept the fact that Woody is dead? It is in constant denial, even after a year and four months. I wonder when acceptance will penetrate every part of my being, even the dark recesses of my brain.

But for now, I live in the reality of the daylight and know that even in this God will carry me through.