A Review of *Boy Meets Girl" by Joshua Harris

Review of Boy Meets Girl by Joshua Harris




As a reader in my mid-thirties, I really wasn't sure what this book would have to offer. I never really intended to read it, but since I missed the book I was aiming for on the shelf as I dashed out of my classroom heading to a doctor's appointment, I was stuck.


Looking at the waiting room, I knew there would be a two or three hour wait, at least, so I could either read a Food and Family magazine (circa 2004), or I could dive into this book that had very little to offer me, the twice divorced single mother of two.


I can now admit that I was wrong. While the intended audience of this book is in the 20-something age bracket looking for a "forever spouse", it has much to offer for those of us who are a little more . . . ahem . . . mature, and scarred as well. 


Specifically, I was able to identify patterns that would have sent a "red flat alert" that something was wrong in my previous courtships. I was also able to unload a great deal of shame. Some of the very hurtful claims others had made against me were refuted by the author through scripture AND practical examples. 


Finally, as I find myself single again, the book offers very practical advice about what to do to protect yourself from disaster. It is never too late to learn how NOT to make a mistake. 


I highly recommend this book to anyone, of any age, who is single, or single again. While it is most useful to that target audience, there is rich material there for all of us, no matter what mistakes we have already made. 

What It Takes to Be Called - Part 3

Part III – The cleansing of the lips

So far, there has been a terrible loss, the foundation of the temple has been shaken, and Isaiah has realized that he is undone and bereft in his sin.  What more could be required?  Well, this is the part  of the story we all know – a cleansing by fire.

That realization comes to us all at some point.  We are undone; we are “unclean”.  Sometimes that's a result of things that we DO actively.  Other times that feeling is a result of the actions of those who surround our lives.; their bad decisions affect us, and though we are not guilty, we still feel the burden of shame.  Purification comes, but always at a cost.

Isaiah 6:6 – Then flew on of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:  (7) And he laid it upon my mouth and said, “Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin is purged.”

Simple truth:  burning hurts.  Bad.  I remember being around 10 and walking into the kitchen.  I could smell the fresh cornbread in the air, and just as I expected, there it sat, on the stove.  In the cast iron skillet, looking so inviting and ready for me to cut into.  Since I was a short 10, I thought it would be a great idea to move it to the table, so that I could more easily reach and cut the cornbread.  So, I reached out and grabbed the handle of the cast iron skillet with a firm grip . . . you can guess the rest.  It had been out of the oven for barely a minute, and my hand was COOKED.  Many memories will fade, but the pain of that burn on my right hand?  Not any time soon.  Pain like that you remember – pain from a burn.

The purification of the called is like that.  It hurts.  There is a modern myth that when you bring your sins to Christ and begin to follow Him, things will go smoothly.  Life will be kind.  The  birds will sing with you as you do housework and little mice will appear to help you with your chores.  I know that sounds a lot like Cinderella, but truthfully that's how a lot of Christians think.  “Hey, I love God now.  He will make my life easy.”  No dice.  If you are going to work for Him, you will suffer.  He will cleanse you for free, but moving forward into deeper waters of purification for service?  That doesn't come without paying the price.

Before you pray for God to use you as never before, to open the doors of opportunity and help you to grow into your abilities, be sure that you have counted the cost.  Looking back through my journals, I started praying that prayer six years ago.  These past five years have been Job-like in the intensity of suffering and loss.  Am I sorry I prayed the prayer?  No, not at all.  But I'm very glad that I did not know six years ago how much I would have to sacrifice, how much I would have to lose, the price I would have to pay, the burning of purification that I would have to endure.  I'm not sure that, knowing what would come, I would have been brave enough to take the plunge.

Somewhere within the last few weeks, I've come to this realization about myself:  I have been refined by fire.  I am ready to be used, for the first time in my life.  I am ready to step into the place He wants me to go.  Where is that?  At this point, your guess is as good as mine.  But I'm ready to go.  Just waiting on the marching instructions.  Of course, if they are like Isaiah's . . . but hey, that's the next entry . . .

What It Takes to be Called - Part 2

Part II:  Then Comes the Glory, but It Doesn't Seem Too Glorious . . .

The break has been a longer than expected due to Project Reclamation (which included such smaller gems as Operation Bunkbeds, Operation Keyboard, Operation Bye-Bye Teal . . .), but as I was puttering around the house this evening, the Lord said that it was once again time to write.  So here I am . . .

The last part of the examination of Isaiah's calling was about what had to happen first – the death of the King.  What came next was the glory.  We like that word a lot, at least I did growing up.  I can distinctly remember a sappy, sugary Peter Cetera song about “The Glory of Love” . . . “I am a man who will fight for your honor, I'll be the hero you've been dreaming of.  We'll live forever knowing together that we did it all for the glory of love.”  Sweet song, and that was my concept of glory – feels good, looks good, is nice to snuggle up with and cuddle.  That, folks, is NOT Biblical glory.  Not even a little bit.

My first glimpse of what Biblical glory was really about came through one of Tommy Tenney's Godchaser books.  He said (to paraphrase) that modern Christians confuse the anointing and the glory of the Lord.  The anointing puts you in the zone, feels warm and wonderful, and generally just makes the world feel right.  The glory, though, knocks you on your face.  That's just what happened to Isaiah.

Isaiah 6:3 – And one cried unto another, and said, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts:  the whole earth is full of his glory.

The glory of the Lord has arrived at Isaiah's doorstep.  His train is filling the temple.  Watch what happens next:

Isaiah 6:4  And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke.

I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound really warm and wonderful to me – more like an earthquake combined with a tornado.  The very foundations of the temple trembled; it became difficult to see clearly.  There was a haze about the place that blended with Isaiah's grief.  And what was Isaiah thinking about?

Isaiah 6:5 – Then said I, “Woe is me!  For I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips:  for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.

In the midst of this majestic and quite frankly terrifying display of power, in the midst of his intense grief over loss, Isaiah realizes that he, who has faithfully worked for the kingdom, is still woefully unworthy to be in the presence of a holy God.  He realizes that he is part of a people with unclean lips living in a fallen condition, still undeserving.  Even now.  How humbling for him that must have been.  And to have seen the King – to want to approach Him so badly – and to know that you were completely undone in His presence.

Thus far, we know this, if you want to be called,
You will experience great loss as things that are not compatible with the promise are stripped away.
You will experience a tearing and a shaking in your life, as the very foundations of your faith are shaken, just as the foundations of the temple were shaken in Isaiah's time.
You will become aware that you are NOT who you need to be . . . yet.

Have you seen your foundation shaken?  Have you felt your world tremble in doubt as you faced a loss?  Have you been left unable to see the direction that you need to take?  Does your world seem hazy and full of pain?  Do you feel unworthy to do what God has called you to do because of these things?  Then look up, God may be calling . . .

There is a cleansing that must take place if you are going to fulfill His call.  And that cleansing may just lead to more pain.  Makes you wonder, when someone says that they want to be used of God, do they really understand what that means?  And as for the pain, more on that later . . .

What It Takes to be Called - Part 1

Growing up in a Pentecostal church, there was something that appeared so - magical – about ministers. They arrived at church in a nice suit, with a well-dressed wife who played at least one instrument while coordinating the nursery, the ladies committee and the dinner on the ground at the same time. (Or like Sis. Dillon, they would play the organ with one hand and write down names of anybody who wasn't in service with the other!) They were so . . . together. And it all seemed glamorous in a way.


But as all children learn, appearances are very deceiving. There is little glamor in the life of those who carry the gospel to the world. In fact, preparing to preach, minister, or carry the gospel in any form requires a process that is anything but glamorous. A process outlined in Isaiah 6.


Isaiah 6:1 In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.


The obvious reason for including “In the year king Uzziah died . . .” is to date Isaiah's vision in time, and that is what I found in most of the commentaries. However, I wondered if there might be something more significant – something beyond just the equivalent of “In the year that Ronald Reagan died . . .” So, I looked up Uzziah.


Apparently, Uzziah was a very successful king. He had a lengthy reign, he ushered in a period of great success for Israel, he fortified towers, his name was “spread abroad.” He was a man called of God, and influenced by Godly men (Zechariah). (II Chronicles 26; II Kings 15:3) But all that success – the fact that God was using him mightily – led Uzziah to become proud. And in his pride, he stepped beyond the reaches of his authority.


II Chronicles 26:16 – But when he was strong, his heart was lifted up to his destruction: for he transgressed against the Lord his God, and went into the temple of the Lord to burn incense upon the altar of incense.


Our ever present adversary – pride – got the better of Uzziah, and it led to a long slow destruction. He went into the temple determined to offer incense. A group of priests stood against him, telling him that it was wrong. He became angry (How dare THEY tell ME what to do . . . God has used ME, not them.), and in the heat of his anger, he was stricken with leprosy. The historian Flavius reports that this occurred at the same time as a great earthquake that caused damage to the temple. So, the great king – the promise of Israel, he whose name had been told even unto Egypt – lived out 11 years in a leper's house, apart from the kingdom until his painful end.


Looking at that, there is certainly a lesson about pride to be learned from Uzziah, but the purpose here is to examine it in the context of what is happening to Isaiah, who is being called.


Imagine for a moment that you ARE this guy. He has been calling out to the people about their waywardness. Jotham, who is governing along with Uzziah (still the defacto “head of state”, even as a leper) isn't all bad, but he's no Uzziah, and he steers completely clear of the temple. Things weren't all bad, but the glory days of Israel had lost their sheen and the people were behaving like heathens. I imagine it was similar to the American yearning for “Camelot” in the wake of the Kennedy assassination, only perhaps worse because the King – the one that was so unbelievably awesome – lived on in a pathetic condition.


And then the day comes that the King – and the dream – finally dies. Must have been a dark day. I'm sure that there were some that hoped for the miraculous restoration of Uzziah. Isaiah was longing for a miraculous restoration of God within his people. And then all of it – died. Just died. Put a lid on it. Put a fork in it. Put a period at the end of it. It's done.


Haven't we all experienced that moment – the moment when something that we have prayed for, hoped for, fasted for – has just died. That terrible, awful moment when we realize that the picture perfect miracle we have constructed in our minds is just not going to happen? I know I've been there. Recently. Not so long ago, I had to bury a dream that was my miraculous second chance. And as I stared at the figurative grave of my hope, I spent weeks wondering where exactly the Lord was. I can only imagine that Isaiah felt something like that. And probably asked the same question: Lord, are you there? And if you are, where?


And yet, the loss had to come. Uzziah had to die if God was going to call Isaiah. Might it have been different if Uzziah hadn't gotten so arrogant over the offering of incense? Maybe. But arrogance in human beings always leads to destruction. And for the message to go forth, Uzziah had to die.


And that is the first principle of the calling: we must lose anything that is not compatible with the message. If you are going to seek the calling of God in your life, prepare yourself. You WILL experience a loss. The Lord will have to tear some things away from you that keep you from going, being, saying, and doing what He wants. In my own life, I have begun to see the outlines of what He might want me to do in the wake of the death of my personal “king.” I've wondered – if I knew what it was going to require, would I have prayed to be used this way? Honestly, I don't know. If I knew the price, I might not have wanted to pay it. Guess there are definite advantages to NOT knowing the future.


Seeking to be used of Him is dangerous for that reason: salvation is free. But to carry the message? That requires a cross.


And after the cross comes the glory, but in reading Isaiah, the glory might not be what you think! More on that later!

I think that God must owe me a resurrection

Anybody who knows me knows that my identity is pretty bound up in three things: faith, family, and literature. Pretty much in that order.

In my English I classes (which are pretty lively as a general rule), I am going to finish up Romeo & Juliet in the next few weeks. We've had so much fun with it! But it is not time to begin to turn my planning attention to another one of my favorite plays of all time: The Miracle Worker by William Gibson.

The first year I taught high school, my daughter was just learning to talk, and Gibson's play fascinated me because it showed me such a window into the way that we human beings learn language. I instantly fell in love with Helen, Annie, and the dedication of one young woman to work a miracle in the life of another. The story was captivating, in so many ways, and truthfully, each year I look forward to going back over the old ground. And each year, I learn something new.

There is a point in the play where Annie, haunted by the voice of her long dead brother, squares her shoulders and faces down her benefactor with the title line: "I think that God must owe me a resurrection . . ." He instantly takes her as being impardonably sacrilegious. I on the other hand find her statement one of unrestrained faith. She, while perhaps not devout, understood some of the principles that God holds so dear. And one of them is this - He has promised us a resurrection in His word.

I don't just mean the resurrection at the end of this walk of life, but a resurrection of our souls each and every time we look to Him in the midst of a trial. He says it, over and over. Bro. Allen preached tonight from James - Draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh unto you. It is that "resurrection" of hope, of faith, of joy, that we can cling to in dark times.

Like, Annie, I too feel like making a bold statement of faith. God owes me a resurrection too. Not because I deserve it. Not because I've done anything to earn it. Because His word promised it, and the Word cannot lie.

So, I will wait on the Lord, knowing that my help comes from Him, and if I hold on, He will rebuild for me. He will resurrect, and He will redeem.

In my quest not to bury myself in the hole and hide, I was praying earlier this week for 'something' constructive to do this weekend while my kids were away. Honestly the prayer was tinged with just a little desperation. The thought of having to face an empty weekend was a little more than I could handle.

And what do you know? In the mailbox, there is a card announcing a Vicki Yohe concert. I actually attended one of her concerts before - 20 years ago to be exact, in Carthage, Mississippi. I called my friend Kim, for whom this was also going to be a difficult weekend, and she agreed to go with me. Not exactly a party, but it sure beats being at home alone.

Not sure what I was expecting - a few songs. A night out. But in the midst of the concert, the Lord truly spoke something to my heart. As Vicki Yohe was singing, she also made a statement about prayer - instead of begging God, speak your desires into existence.

Now, I know that is not a novel concept, and I'm quite sure that in 34 years of church attendance, I've heard it many times. But what I realized was that for the longest time, that's not been the way I pray. I have groveled, begged, and gotten frustrated because God didn't give me the blue lollipop instead of the red one. (You know what I mean . . . )

So I left the concert with a whole new attitude. I want a different kind of life than the one I have lived for the past 16 years. I want the Lord to use my gifts for His glory. I want to develop friendships. I want a strong family. And, in a very practical sense, I need my current house to sell so that I can start over. If I truly want those things (and groveling hasn't worked), perhaps I had best try praying the prayer of faith and speaking those desires into existence.

It's time for faith - not just begging God for something to happen, but believing that HE WILL DO IT. Anyone want to join me?

In a Reading Kind of Mood

This is the beautiful book that I just couldn't bear to finish. It is quite easy to understand why this book was awarded the Pulitzer Prize. The language is beautiful - overwhelming in places, and the preservation of the multiple points of view of this family concerning their husband/father/family member's death is absolutely heart-wrenching. It is a literary masterpiece that takes you to places both dark and poignant. Which is where my problem lay, honestly. The story of a father's death still resonates a little too strongly with me, even so many years after Daddy has been gone. Reading the story - from Mary's, Rufus', Catherine's points of view - was overwhelming in many ways. I found myself so entranced with their emotions, feelings, and experience that their emotional turmoil became my own. I was inexplicably depressed here at Christmastime, mourning a man who, had he lived on from his death by accident, would have been naturally deceased years before my birth. And yet, that isn't particularly true. It wasn't his death. It was the impact upon the lives of those who loved him. It was the lasting hole, the festering wound, and the painful scar that is undoubtedly, indelibly left upon this family after the closing pages of the novel. It rocks all but the most grounded faiths. It brings no absolution, no peace. Only the certainty that one must move on from loss. My first sentence is true. I didn't finish it completely. I made it to page 285 of my edition and honestly could bear no more. The cruelty of the priest round about the page 260 mark about pushed me over the edge. But ultimately, it was the pain of the children. Too honest. Too intense. Too real. Perhaps one day I will return and finish the last few pages of this book. But, whether I do or do not return, one thing is certain. It has passed what is my own personal "test of great literature" - I will be thinking about this book for many years to come with that unsatisfied, aching feeling. A book that does not stop speaking with it's last page - THAT is the mark of great literature, and *A Death in the Family* certainly qualifies.