What does it really mean to “Trust and Obey?”
I recently found out.
God has graced me with a job I love; one that allows me to use my past experiences to make a difference in the lives of hurting young people. I’ve been there for over two years and it has been the most difficult and most amazing work I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Recently I was offered a promotion to shift supervisor. To be honest, I really didn’t want it. The current shift supervisor is over-worked, under-appreciated and she was suffering for it. I knew, almost instantly, that this wasn’t God’s plan for me and it was easy to say, “no thank you.”
Days later, a brand-new position opened up. I’d heard whispers about this position for the last year and ever since the very first hint, I wanted it. Desperately. When the position was finally posted, I jumped at the chance to apply. I’ve been doing a lot of the work already and thriving on it. It came with a pay raise and would be an excellent selling point on my grad. school application. And did I mention I really wanted it? This was absolutely the right job for me.
The only catch? I’d have to work Sunday mornings.
Now, I knew that this wasn’t an option. I knew where God wanted me on Sunday morning, and it wasn’t at work. Through other very clear, very obvious messages, God let me know that I needed to say, “no thank you” again. Only this time, I didn’t want to. I argued with God about this for days. I tried refusing. I tried begging. I tried bargaining.
Over and over again I heard God tell me, “Say no, Bethany. Trust me. Obey me.”
I went along my merry way, ignoring God and the sick feeling in my stomach that came from knowing I wasn’t following God’s plan. Surely God wanted this job for me? Surely He wanted me to get a raise? I found myself thinking, if God really doesn’t want me to have this job, He’ll make sure they choose someone else. At the eleventh hour, God told me, yet again, “Say no Bethany!”
I broke.
My God has shown me over and over and over again that He will do what He has promised and that His plan for my life is better than mine could ever be. He has shown me that He will orchestrate every movement of my life and that I can trust Him. So I did.
I walked into my program manager’s office, mere minutes before she was going to make the final decision. I sat down with her and told her I was going to make her decision easy. I said, “No thank you,” and told her why.
And then God provided my own little ram in the thicket.
My program manager told me that from the very beginning the job was mine; they just had to do things properly. She then said that she knew how important church was to me and she was waiting for me to say so. She handed me two job offers. One was for a Sunday through Thursday shift, the other was for a Tuesday through Saturday shift. She'd gotten approval to offer me either of them. All I had to do was ask.
All I had to do was obey.
Had I not gone to her, I would have still gotten the job, and I would have gone to work every Sunday morning knowing that I was being unfaithful. I would have gotten that pay increase, and every extra penny would have been a reminder of my disobedience.
Instead, I acted out of obedience and things snapped into place. God asked me to give up something I really wanted, and He gave me something better.
Amen.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
The last two months...
So I took an unintentional hiatus from blogging. ::sigh::
I haven't felt much like writing I guess.
What have I been up to the last two months?
* On the 23rd of September I was involved in a physical intervention (restraint/hold/whatever you want to call it) with a client. This client struggled a lot and at some point during the hold I slipped or stepped wrong and tore a ligament in my ankle. I just returned to work this week after 8 weeks of light duty.
There were a lot of blessings in this time of rest - I've had some wonderful, in depth conversations with my program manager and some co-workers; conversations I could never have on the milieu side of the street. From a work standpoint I have (not intentionally) come to the attention of the higher-ups and they all have positive things to say about me. This feels good.
Not being in the milieu did NOT feel good. I take a lot of pride in my job. I love what I do and I'm good at it. Though not quite a healthy approach, I've defined a lot of my worth based on my ability to do my job well. I feel confident and competant in the milieu and there aren't a lot of other situations or settings where that is true. I'm still working out what God had to teach me in this... it's coming to me slowly. I was resistant to the teachable moment for a long time.
* My trauma recovery therapy has gotten a LOT more intense. Every time I talk about treatment, I say, "its getting really hard." And every time I talk about it, it really is getting harder. I'm more prepared for it - most of the time - and I still sometimes just want to quit. There's a lot of yucky stuff to face.
:::: let me step up on a tangential soap box for a moment ::::
Lately, I've been hearing a lot of people - both online and in real life - being really judgmental of people who struggle with depression, PTSD and various & assundry other mental disorders. I've heard things like: "If they just had more faith," or "if they just prayed harder," or "The Holy Spirit is the only counselor anyone should need." But worst of all are comments like, "if you can't get over it, you're living in sin by damaging your witness for Christ."
Ok, so there's some grains of truth in all of those, but God has gifted us with people who are called to help others recover from past experiences. The reality is, faith is hard, prayer is hard, trusting the Holy Spirit is hard, and being an effective witness is HARD when you are suffering. My friends, LIVING is hard when you have a mental illness. But there's a difference between refusing to change and struggling to change.
Some people want to make it into a solely spiritual problem. It isn't. That's like telling a diabetic that if they were right with God, they wouldn't have trouble controlling their bloodsugars. Legalism at it's worst.
:::: moving on :::: Where was I anyway? Oh yes, the last two months.
*I've been having some significant struggles with my oldest son. I just don't know what to do. He needs a Godly father(figure). My boys need someone to show them how to be strong Christian men and my daughters need someone to show them how men should treat women.
But me, the woman with more baggage than a 747 cargo hold? Being open to a relationship? BLEH!!! Lord, just let the men in the church take them under their wings and leave me out of it!
So that's my life in a nutshell. God has done and is doing some amazing work in me, but I don't have the words to put it down on "paper" yet. Someday.
I haven't felt much like writing I guess.
What have I been up to the last two months?
* On the 23rd of September I was involved in a physical intervention (restraint/hold/whatever you want to call it) with a client. This client struggled a lot and at some point during the hold I slipped or stepped wrong and tore a ligament in my ankle. I just returned to work this week after 8 weeks of light duty.
There were a lot of blessings in this time of rest - I've had some wonderful, in depth conversations with my program manager and some co-workers; conversations I could never have on the milieu side of the street. From a work standpoint I have (not intentionally) come to the attention of the higher-ups and they all have positive things to say about me. This feels good.
Not being in the milieu did NOT feel good. I take a lot of pride in my job. I love what I do and I'm good at it. Though not quite a healthy approach, I've defined a lot of my worth based on my ability to do my job well. I feel confident and competant in the milieu and there aren't a lot of other situations or settings where that is true. I'm still working out what God had to teach me in this... it's coming to me slowly. I was resistant to the teachable moment for a long time.
* My trauma recovery therapy has gotten a LOT more intense. Every time I talk about treatment, I say, "its getting really hard." And every time I talk about it, it really is getting harder. I'm more prepared for it - most of the time - and I still sometimes just want to quit. There's a lot of yucky stuff to face.
:::: let me step up on a tangential soap box for a moment ::::
Lately, I've been hearing a lot of people - both online and in real life - being really judgmental of people who struggle with depression, PTSD and various & assundry other mental disorders. I've heard things like: "If they just had more faith," or "if they just prayed harder," or "The Holy Spirit is the only counselor anyone should need." But worst of all are comments like, "if you can't get over it, you're living in sin by damaging your witness for Christ."
Ok, so there's some grains of truth in all of those, but God has gifted us with people who are called to help others recover from past experiences. The reality is, faith is hard, prayer is hard, trusting the Holy Spirit is hard, and being an effective witness is HARD when you are suffering. My friends, LIVING is hard when you have a mental illness. But there's a difference between refusing to change and struggling to change.
Some people want to make it into a solely spiritual problem. It isn't. That's like telling a diabetic that if they were right with God, they wouldn't have trouble controlling their bloodsugars. Legalism at it's worst.
:::: moving on :::: Where was I anyway? Oh yes, the last two months.
*I've been having some significant struggles with my oldest son. I just don't know what to do. He needs a Godly father(figure). My boys need someone to show them how to be strong Christian men and my daughters need someone to show them how men should treat women.
But me, the woman with more baggage than a 747 cargo hold? Being open to a relationship? BLEH!!! Lord, just let the men in the church take them under their wings and leave me out of it!
So that's my life in a nutshell. God has done and is doing some amazing work in me, but I don't have the words to put it down on "paper" yet. Someday.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Something wonderful...
I saw something wonderful today... God did many things wonderful today.
First, I was able to handle my oldest son without yelling or saying things I shouldn't. God just settled on me and gave me a calm voice and a quiet spirit. You have no idea how much I've struggled with this over the last few months.
Then, as I pulled up to church, I saw a car that I never expected to see at church again. A friend, who swore she'd never return to our church because she was held accountable for her choices, had come to church. That's a miracle - a huge one. God's starting something amazing in her.
And He's done some amazing things in our church body too. We're really starting to get - and live out - what sharing God's love really means. The same young woman try to leave the service quietly and sneak out so people couldn't talk to her. Instead of allowing it, two older women who have been known to be gossips in the past, stopped her and gave her a hug. One of them ran after her, told her she loved her and held her as she cried. Another miracle.
Would I have liked to be one of those huggers? Yes. But maybe it was better for her to receive that love from a source she wouldn't normally expect.
And God.
God's doing some pretty amazing things in me too. I don't know how, yet, to put all the words on it, but my life is changing. I love what God's doing. I even love the hard things He's allowed in my life.... in the past 9 months, in the past year, in the past two years, in the past decade plus. Lots of little trees make a big forest. I'm finally starting to see it.
First, I was able to handle my oldest son without yelling or saying things I shouldn't. God just settled on me and gave me a calm voice and a quiet spirit. You have no idea how much I've struggled with this over the last few months.
Then, as I pulled up to church, I saw a car that I never expected to see at church again. A friend, who swore she'd never return to our church because she was held accountable for her choices, had come to church. That's a miracle - a huge one. God's starting something amazing in her.
And He's done some amazing things in our church body too. We're really starting to get - and live out - what sharing God's love really means. The same young woman try to leave the service quietly and sneak out so people couldn't talk to her. Instead of allowing it, two older women who have been known to be gossips in the past, stopped her and gave her a hug. One of them ran after her, told her she loved her and held her as she cried. Another miracle.
Would I have liked to be one of those huggers? Yes. But maybe it was better for her to receive that love from a source she wouldn't normally expect.
And God.
God's doing some pretty amazing things in me too. I don't know how, yet, to put all the words on it, but my life is changing. I love what God's doing. I even love the hard things He's allowed in my life.... in the past 9 months, in the past year, in the past two years, in the past decade plus. Lots of little trees make a big forest. I'm finally starting to see it.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Teachable moments...
Don't you just love it, as a parent, when you are intending to teach your child something and it ends up being one of God's 2x4s for YOU instead of them?
Ok, maybe "love" is too strong a word.
Way too strong.
Humbling is more like it.
My oldest son and I have being going rounds multiple times daily for the last few weeks. He has reached to new levels of disrespect and defiance. He's so angry.
This time last week, he was screaming at me because I asked him to do his chores (extra chores he "earned" by making a VERY bad choice earlier in the summer). I sent him to his room, where he proceeded to scream and yell at me about being in his room. And he punched his brother in the face because he was mad at me. :::sigh:::
He then started telling me that it was my fault he was acting this way because I'm always making him mad. Let me tell you, I've had enough of people telling me their behavior is my fault. I sent the other kids outside, said some things I really wish I hadn't and then I pulled out my deadly-quiet voice.
I asked him, "What do you suppose God thinks about how you're behaving right now?" He said he didn't know in his I-don't-care voice. Oooooh that voice makes me mad.
I started quoting verses.
You know, like "Honor thy father and mother"
"Be kind, one to another."
He was sneering, but quiet, until I got to,
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
Full swing attitude came in.
"How can I love my neighbor if you won't let me go outside and play? Who the heck is my neighbor anyway?"
Heh.
I think... yay! Teachable moment!
The answer's in your Bible child. "No it isn't!"
Oh yes, it is.
I told him to go get his Bible and open it up.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He got his Bible.
I told him find the parable of the Good Samaritan.
He yelled and screamed that he already knows it, can't find it, I can't make him. Blah blah blah. He started looking and found it.
I told him to read it.
He yelled and screamed that it was a waste of time, it's boring, it's stupid. Blah blah blah. He read it.
I told him to get a notebook and a pen and write a summary of the parable.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He started writing.
I told him to write down what he learned from the story and write down the answer to his question.
He yelled and screamed.... all of the above. Blah blah blah. Then silence.
He walked out of his room, head down, and handed me his notebook. I said, "Well?" He looked at his toes and mumbled, "Everyone's my neighbor." Exactly.
"And guess what? You're doing this again tomorrow." He opened his mouth to yell and scream... and said nothing. He went back to his room, laid down on his bed and played/read quietly the rest of the day.
Ah ha! I thought. The key to peace and quiet. I should have known.
so the next morning, all full of myself and my parenting pride, I found the "perfect passage" designed to hit home as hard as possible. I handed him his Bible and his notebook. He grumbled a little and started to say, "I'm not doing it -" I gave him a look, "unless you do it with me."
Oh.
But... but... I don't want to. I don't have to. You can't make me. Blah blah blah.
Oops.
That parenting pride thing? Umm... yeah. See, when I picked that passage, it was meant for HIM and his attitude. Not for me.
Yeah. Right.
So, we read the passage. And we've read something together every other day since.
God hit me upside the head with my pride... and His Word.
Not a bad thing.
But boy, it hurt.
Ok, maybe "love" is too strong a word.
Way too strong.
Humbling is more like it.
My oldest son and I have being going rounds multiple times daily for the last few weeks. He has reached to new levels of disrespect and defiance. He's so angry.
This time last week, he was screaming at me because I asked him to do his chores (extra chores he "earned" by making a VERY bad choice earlier in the summer). I sent him to his room, where he proceeded to scream and yell at me about being in his room. And he punched his brother in the face because he was mad at me. :::sigh:::
He then started telling me that it was my fault he was acting this way because I'm always making him mad. Let me tell you, I've had enough of people telling me their behavior is my fault. I sent the other kids outside, said some things I really wish I hadn't and then I pulled out my deadly-quiet voice.
I asked him, "What do you suppose God thinks about how you're behaving right now?" He said he didn't know in his I-don't-care voice. Oooooh that voice makes me mad.
I started quoting verses.
You know, like "Honor thy father and mother"
"Be kind, one to another."
He was sneering, but quiet, until I got to,
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
Full swing attitude came in.
"How can I love my neighbor if you won't let me go outside and play? Who the heck is my neighbor anyway?"
Heh.
I think... yay! Teachable moment!
The answer's in your Bible child. "No it isn't!"
Oh yes, it is.
I told him to go get his Bible and open it up.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He got his Bible.
I told him find the parable of the Good Samaritan.
He yelled and screamed that he already knows it, can't find it, I can't make him. Blah blah blah. He started looking and found it.
I told him to read it.
He yelled and screamed that it was a waste of time, it's boring, it's stupid. Blah blah blah. He read it.
I told him to get a notebook and a pen and write a summary of the parable.
He yelled and screamed that he didn't want to, didn't have to, wasn't going to. Blah blah blah. He started writing.
I told him to write down what he learned from the story and write down the answer to his question.
He yelled and screamed.... all of the above. Blah blah blah. Then silence.
He walked out of his room, head down, and handed me his notebook. I said, "Well?" He looked at his toes and mumbled, "Everyone's my neighbor." Exactly.
"And guess what? You're doing this again tomorrow." He opened his mouth to yell and scream... and said nothing. He went back to his room, laid down on his bed and played/read quietly the rest of the day.
Ah ha! I thought. The key to peace and quiet. I should have known.
so the next morning, all full of myself and my parenting pride, I found the "perfect passage" designed to hit home as hard as possible. I handed him his Bible and his notebook. He grumbled a little and started to say, "I'm not doing it -" I gave him a look, "unless you do it with me."
Oh.
But... but... I don't want to. I don't have to. You can't make me. Blah blah blah.
Oops.
That parenting pride thing? Umm... yeah. See, when I picked that passage, it was meant for HIM and his attitude. Not for me.
Yeah. Right.
So, we read the passage. And we've read something together every other day since.
God hit me upside the head with my pride... and His Word.
Not a bad thing.
But boy, it hurt.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Grit
Ever had a wound debrided? It's pretty excruciating. That's what my life feels like right now.
Which probably sounds like the same ol' same ol' from me.
Only it isn't.
The things I'm working through right now are pretty excruciating... but I am so grateful I'm finally allowing God to dig out all that grit that has dug in and infected every aspect of my life.
I'm crying a lot - because I'm letting out the grief and hurt that I tried to bury for so long.
I'm raging a lot - because I'm letting out the anger - and hurt - that has lodged itself in my heart.
And you know what? I'm laughing a lot too.
Sometimes it's the desperate laughter of the broken-hearted or the dark laughter of the half-mad. But it's laughter. And it's genuine, which may not seem like much, but for me it's HUGE.
Even when I'm really hurting, there's this I-don't-know-what bubbling up inside me. Even when I'm drained and emotionally exhausted, there's this core feeling that I'm ok. That I'll be ok. Or maybe someday, even better than ok.
Grit.
Abrasive and coarse.
Rough. Painful.
And... courageous.
There's another meaning for the word, and I think I'm choosing that one.
Firm character.
Indomitable spirit.
Courage.
Yup. I like that one.
Which probably sounds like the same ol' same ol' from me.
Only it isn't.
The things I'm working through right now are pretty excruciating... but I am so grateful I'm finally allowing God to dig out all that grit that has dug in and infected every aspect of my life.
I'm crying a lot - because I'm letting out the grief and hurt that I tried to bury for so long.
I'm raging a lot - because I'm letting out the anger - and hurt - that has lodged itself in my heart.
And you know what? I'm laughing a lot too.
Sometimes it's the desperate laughter of the broken-hearted or the dark laughter of the half-mad. But it's laughter. And it's genuine, which may not seem like much, but for me it's HUGE.
Even when I'm really hurting, there's this I-don't-know-what bubbling up inside me. Even when I'm drained and emotionally exhausted, there's this core feeling that I'm ok. That I'll be ok. Or maybe someday, even better than ok.
Grit.
Abrasive and coarse.
Rough. Painful.
And... courageous.
There's another meaning for the word, and I think I'm choosing that one.
Firm character.
Indomitable spirit.
Courage.
Yup. I like that one.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Not today.
On days like today, in weeks like this week... :::sigh::
I don't know if I'm angry or sad or ashamed, or a bitter mix of the three that sits in my stomach like battery acid.
You know, painful and fatal.
I am sick to death of being disordered.
I'm hurting and I just want it all to go away.
I want to curl up and hide... in my head, in the real world... in both. Does it really matter?
I'm not supposed to retreat inside my head... but do you have any idea how hard it is to stay present in the moment when the moment is pretty close to awful? When the smallest thing triggers a cascade of junk and nothing in reality feels safe?
I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing right now, it just isn't working the way I want it to... I mean, it's working because I'm safe and I have no intention of doing anything stupid, but it isn't making the nasty stuff go away. I'm just maintaining. Hanging on. Waiting out the storm while getting cold, tired and downright battered.
I know God has a plan for this... I know there's a reason... but right now it isn't comforting. At all. I have all sorts of willful and petulant things I could say about that, but I'll hold my proverbial tongue. I know this will pass, and I'll come out better and stronger and all those wonderful things... and today is not a day I'm capable of finding meaning in the pain. Not today.
I don't know if I'm angry or sad or ashamed, or a bitter mix of the three that sits in my stomach like battery acid.
You know, painful and fatal.
I am sick to death of being disordered.
I'm hurting and I just want it all to go away.
I want to curl up and hide... in my head, in the real world... in both. Does it really matter?
I'm not supposed to retreat inside my head... but do you have any idea how hard it is to stay present in the moment when the moment is pretty close to awful? When the smallest thing triggers a cascade of junk and nothing in reality feels safe?
I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing right now, it just isn't working the way I want it to... I mean, it's working because I'm safe and I have no intention of doing anything stupid, but it isn't making the nasty stuff go away. I'm just maintaining. Hanging on. Waiting out the storm while getting cold, tired and downright battered.
I know God has a plan for this... I know there's a reason... but right now it isn't comforting. At all. I have all sorts of willful and petulant things I could say about that, but I'll hold my proverbial tongue. I know this will pass, and I'll come out better and stronger and all those wonderful things... and today is not a day I'm capable of finding meaning in the pain. Not today.
This is for those who wait ~
Lifeflight
Another day, another waiting game
A little different but it's still the same
I am here, but where's the one I'm longing for?
I'm having trouble feeling all alone
Will my heart ever find a home?
I want to hope but sometimes I just don't know
I know I'm not the only one
So we sing a lullaby to the lonely hearts tonight
Let it set your heart on fire, let it set you free
When you're fighting to believe
In a love that you can't see
Just know there is a purpose
For those who wait
I want to open up my eyes
I know that all I need is time
I'm growing stronger every single day
God, I'm going to lean into You now
Letting go of all my fear and doubt
I can't do this on my own so I'll give You control
I know I'm not the only one
The pressure makes us stronger
The struggle makes us hunger
The hard lessons make the difference
The pressure makes us stronger
The struggle makes us hunger
The hard lessons make the difference
And the difference makes it worth it
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Assumptions
We all make them - based on experience, based on gut instinct, based on societal norms... "People who look a certain way/act a certain way/talk a certain way (or have looked/acted/talked) must be _____________."
Sometimes those assumptions are right (when they're based on God-given discernment) and sometimes they aren't. Sometimes those assumptions are helpful... and sometimes they hurt.
Be honest.
Perhaps...
*You've looked at a person covered in tattoos, wearing leather and chains and crossed to the other side of the road to avoid the "unsavory element."
*You've seen a child wearing dirty clothes in the grocery store and shook your head at the poor parents who can't keep their children clean.
*You've walked past a pregnant teenager and assumed she was promiscuous.
*You've run into one of the "druggies" from your high school and figured they're still getting high.
*You've watched the news about a local church-goer arrested for soliciting prostitution and your first thought is that he was never really a Christian.
Ok, maybe you haven't done all of those things, or any of those things... but somewhere, sometime, you've made a decision about a person based on what you thought was true rather than what was actually true.
People are so much more than how they dress, what language they speak, what they've done or where they've been. They are so much more than the minuscule glimpses we see of their lives that we use to make judgements about character, class and Christian faith.
Take the disciple Thomas for instance.
What word goes hand-in-hand with dear old Didymus?
That's right: DOUBT.
In John 20 we learn that Thomas wasn't with the rest of the disciples when Jesus appeared to them the first time. He doubts the others when they say they've seen the Lord (ok, who wouldn't? honestly?) and insists that he won't (can't?) believe until he's seen it for himself.
"Doubting Thomas" is born.
Only... we tend to forget that the disciples didn't believe the women when they told of the empty tomb (Peter and another disciple have to run to check it out). Mary Magdalene, despite hearing the angels' words, asks the gardener if he's taken Jesus - until He reveals Himself to her. The disciples on the road to Emmaeus were downcast because they thought Jesus' death meant He wasn't who He claimed to be, even though they knew the women were told Jesus was alive. And the disciples who were in hiding from the Jews thought He was a ghost even though he was right there in the room - they had to touch Him to believe.
But Thomas gets the bad rap.
Even though he had the same doubts as everyone else - the same doubts you or I would have in his place. Even though he didn't ask for anything more than anyone else.
"Then Jesus told him, 'Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.' " John 20:29
How sad. He has to see to believe... Didymus was such a doubter.
Assumptions.
Thomas was a man of questions (read John 14) and a man of doubts... but he was also a man of loyalty. He was willing to die for Jesus before Jesus died for him.
John 11:1-16
1Now a man named Lazarus was sick. He was from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. 2This Mary, whose brother Lazarus now lay sick, was the same one who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair. 3 So the sisters sent word to Jesus, "Lord, the one you love is sick."
4When he heard this, Jesus said, "This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." 5Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. 6Yet when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days.
7Then he said to his disciples, "Let us go back to Judea."
8"But Rabbi," they said, "a short while ago the Jews tried to stone you, and yet you are going back there?"
9Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours of daylight? A man who walks by day will not stumble, for he sees by this world's light. 10It is when he walks by night that he stumbles, for he has no light."
11After he had said this, he went on to tell them, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up."
12His disciples replied, "Lord, if he sleeps, he will get better." 13Jesus had been speaking of his death, but his disciples thought he meant natural sleep.
14So then he told them plainly, "Lazarus is dead, 15and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him."
16Then Thomas (called Didymus) said to the rest of the disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." (emphasis mine).
Now, we could look at John 11 through doubt-colored glasses and assume that Thomas was just being fatalistic. But the passage hints at the possibility that the other disciples really didn't want to go with Jesus... and possibly weren't intending to. "And yet you are going back there?" vs. 8. The other disciples never mentioned a "we" or an "us." Thomas did.
He had doubts. That doesn't mean "Doubting Thomas" is who he was, even though that's how we remember him. His doubts do not - and did not - define him. He didn't let them.
Whatever assumptions we might make about Thomas are wrong.
Historically, Thomas is credited with over 17,000 converts during his ministry and is believed to be the farthest ranging disciple - accounts have him bringing the Gospel to Parthia (Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan) and India.
He could have wallowed in guilt over doubting Jesus. He could have sat and thought, "I doubted Jesus, who am I to preach the Good News? Who am I to ask people to believe without seeing?" He could have.
He didn't.
He defied our assumptions - and perhaps ignored his own.
His Jesus was (and is!) bigger than his doubts.
He's bigger than ours too.
And our assumptions.
Sometimes those assumptions are right (when they're based on God-given discernment) and sometimes they aren't. Sometimes those assumptions are helpful... and sometimes they hurt.
Be honest.
Perhaps...
*You've looked at a person covered in tattoos, wearing leather and chains and crossed to the other side of the road to avoid the "unsavory element."
*You've seen a child wearing dirty clothes in the grocery store and shook your head at the poor parents who can't keep their children clean.
*You've walked past a pregnant teenager and assumed she was promiscuous.
*You've run into one of the "druggies" from your high school and figured they're still getting high.
*You've watched the news about a local church-goer arrested for soliciting prostitution and your first thought is that he was never really a Christian.
Ok, maybe you haven't done all of those things, or any of those things... but somewhere, sometime, you've made a decision about a person based on what you thought was true rather than what was actually true.
People are so much more than how they dress, what language they speak, what they've done or where they've been. They are so much more than the minuscule glimpses we see of their lives that we use to make judgements about character, class and Christian faith.
Take the disciple Thomas for instance.
What word goes hand-in-hand with dear old Didymus?
That's right: DOUBT.
In John 20 we learn that Thomas wasn't with the rest of the disciples when Jesus appeared to them the first time. He doubts the others when they say they've seen the Lord (ok, who wouldn't? honestly?) and insists that he won't (can't?) believe until he's seen it for himself.
"Doubting Thomas" is born.
Only... we tend to forget that the disciples didn't believe the women when they told of the empty tomb (Peter and another disciple have to run to check it out). Mary Magdalene, despite hearing the angels' words, asks the gardener if he's taken Jesus - until He reveals Himself to her. The disciples on the road to Emmaeus were downcast because they thought Jesus' death meant He wasn't who He claimed to be, even though they knew the women were told Jesus was alive. And the disciples who were in hiding from the Jews thought He was a ghost even though he was right there in the room - they had to touch Him to believe.
But Thomas gets the bad rap.
Even though he had the same doubts as everyone else - the same doubts you or I would have in his place. Even though he didn't ask for anything more than anyone else.
"Then Jesus told him, 'Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.' " John 20:29
How sad. He has to see to believe... Didymus was such a doubter.
Assumptions.
Thomas was a man of questions (read John 14) and a man of doubts... but he was also a man of loyalty. He was willing to die for Jesus before Jesus died for him.
John 11:1-16
1Now a man named Lazarus was sick. He was from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. 2This Mary, whose brother Lazarus now lay sick, was the same one who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair. 3 So the sisters sent word to Jesus, "Lord, the one you love is sick."
4When he heard this, Jesus said, "This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." 5Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. 6Yet when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days.
7Then he said to his disciples, "Let us go back to Judea."
8"But Rabbi," they said, "a short while ago the Jews tried to stone you, and yet you are going back there?"
9Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours of daylight? A man who walks by day will not stumble, for he sees by this world's light. 10It is when he walks by night that he stumbles, for he has no light."
11After he had said this, he went on to tell them, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up."
12His disciples replied, "Lord, if he sleeps, he will get better." 13Jesus had been speaking of his death, but his disciples thought he meant natural sleep.
14So then he told them plainly, "Lazarus is dead, 15and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him."
16Then Thomas (called Didymus) said to the rest of the disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." (emphasis mine).
Now, we could look at John 11 through doubt-colored glasses and assume that Thomas was just being fatalistic. But the passage hints at the possibility that the other disciples really didn't want to go with Jesus... and possibly weren't intending to. "And yet you are going back there?" vs. 8. The other disciples never mentioned a "we" or an "us." Thomas did.
He had doubts. That doesn't mean "Doubting Thomas" is who he was, even though that's how we remember him. His doubts do not - and did not - define him. He didn't let them.
Whatever assumptions we might make about Thomas are wrong.
Historically, Thomas is credited with over 17,000 converts during his ministry and is believed to be the farthest ranging disciple - accounts have him bringing the Gospel to Parthia (Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan) and India.
He could have wallowed in guilt over doubting Jesus. He could have sat and thought, "I doubted Jesus, who am I to preach the Good News? Who am I to ask people to believe without seeing?" He could have.
He didn't.
He defied our assumptions - and perhaps ignored his own.
His Jesus was (and is!) bigger than his doubts.
He's bigger than ours too.
And our assumptions.
2000 Years - Travis Cottrell
(scroll to the last song in my music player to hear it)
If I could see 2000 years ago,
travel back in time and walk in the day
when just one man turned this world upside down
If I could be a guest at the wedding, and
taste the wine that was water moments before
Would I realize what was really in store?
That there would be so much more?
[CHORUS]
Would I fall down and worship?
Leave all that I treasured behind?
For a chance to be closer
To the Man who might
Be the One who saves my life?
If I hear His voice call to Lazarus,
stand and stare as my friend stumbles out of the tomb.
Witness blind men see their first morning sky...
Would I believe what He says to be true
if I was there the night soldiers took Him away?
Would I flee the scene like most of His friends?
Then watch on the cross what I thought was the end?
What would I do then?
[CHORUS]
And what would it be like
After three days gone by
Would I believe what they said
Or wanna see with my own eyes
Put my hand on the scars
Only then realize
My Lord, my God, alive!
Will I fall down and worship?
Leave all that I treasure behind?
For a chance to be closer?
'Cause He is still alive
and the One who saves my life!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Native Wisdom
For those who don't know, I work at a psychiatric residential treatment center for Native American teens. We combine Native tradition and modern evidence-based practice to provide an environment that supports healing, growth and recovery.
When I started working for this program, I had all sorts of notions that I would come in and use my Special Ed. training to teach awesome groups and my parenting experience to whip these kids into shape.
So I might have been a bit arrogant.
Don't get me wrong. I'm very good at my job. That isn't arrogance. I do my job and I do it well because I don't have the capacity to do it any other way. These kids matter and slacking on this job means I would be taking something valuable away from kids who have already had so much taken from them. I can't do it. It just isn't in me.
Anyway. Arrogance.
Somewhere along the way, these precious and precocious children have showed me that I have more to learn than I have to teach - not just about trauma-informed care, but also about Native tradition... and even about my own faith.
Much of Native tradition isn't Christian, although there are also many Natives who believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to the questions the Creator raised among his people centuries ago. I've had to be very discerning about what I take in as true wisdom and what I respect as another person's faith.
That isn't a bad thing.
One of the most amazing experiences I have had as staff here has been the sweat ceremony. The symbology of a traditional sweat is incredibly powerful. *I don't presume to be an expert on Native ceremony, but I'd like to share my understanding and those parts of the tradition that have resonated with my faith.*
You enter the lodge on your knees. Because the sweat is a purification ritual, there is no room for pride. You come to sweat to pray to the Creator who is greater than you. Humility is the only appropriate attitude for supplication. There is also a recognition that humility requires courage. The truly brave are those who can humble themselves.
Deeply ingrained in the ceremony is the battle to overcome fear - of darkness, of suffering, of the unknown... and most importantly the battle to overcome our fear of ourselves. The Creator will give you the strength to endure if you ask Him for it.
There are traditionally four "rounds" to the ceremony - four stages of prayer. Each stage gets progressively hotter (interestingly enough, the rocks are always introduced in multiples of 7... I'm not sure why). Similar to fasting, the physical discomfort of the body is offered to the Creator to shift your focus from physical things to spiritual things. The Creator has sacrificed for each of us, it is only fitting that we sacrifice our comfort to Him.
*In the ceremonies that I have participated in, the first round is devoted to asking the Creator to be present among the people - it is an invitation to the Great Spirit to fill each person and make them aware of His presence.
*The second round is a call to sacrifice and courage - it is also a time to focus on forgiveness and the sacrifice of self that is required to both forgive others and ask for forgiveness.
*The third round is a specific prayer lifted up to the Creator - it is an individual prayer based on each person's greatest need.
*The fourth round focuses on healing and renewal - it is also a commitment to do the work the Creator may ask of you to answer your prayer.
When you leave the sweat lodge - again on your knees - it is a rebirth. People are usually quiet and contemplative as they each have a personal celebration of this new life they're entering.
These are parts of the ceremony in which I have found a kernel of Truth. Despite those things that run contrary to my beliefs, I have had some pretty profound encounters with my God in the darkness and heat of the sweat lodge. I was able focus more deeply on prayer when I was able to shut the world out and concentrate solely on the moment. Powerful.
Native tradition, I believe, has a lot to teach modern Christians about living a life of prayer. Every day the clients read an Elder's meditation in our gathering. Today's had particular meaning for me.
"Each day, whatever I am doing, I am always praying and thinking of God."
--Thomas Yellowtail, CROW
Have you ever tried going through your day carrying on a conversation with the Creator? Many of our Elders live in prayer. They talk to the Creator like the Creator is their best friend. It is easiest to do this if we pray in the morning and ask the Great Spirit to direct our thinking. When the Creator is involved in guiding our lives, we will have less stress, anxiety, and tension. Maybe this is something we would like to try today. "Oh, Creator, look at the Sun, how beautiful you have made it. Oh, look at this child, isn't she just beautiful! Well, Creator, I'm not sure how I should do this task, what do you think? This person is starting to irritate me; I need your help to redirect my thinking. Thanks for returning me to a peaceful mind." Remember, the Creator also has a sense of humor.
Grandfather, let me walk in prayer.
Father, please let me walk in prayer.
When I started working for this program, I had all sorts of notions that I would come in and use my Special Ed. training to teach awesome groups and my parenting experience to whip these kids into shape.
So I might have been a bit arrogant.
Don't get me wrong. I'm very good at my job. That isn't arrogance. I do my job and I do it well because I don't have the capacity to do it any other way. These kids matter and slacking on this job means I would be taking something valuable away from kids who have already had so much taken from them. I can't do it. It just isn't in me.
Anyway. Arrogance.
Somewhere along the way, these precious and precocious children have showed me that I have more to learn than I have to teach - not just about trauma-informed care, but also about Native tradition... and even about my own faith.
Much of Native tradition isn't Christian, although there are also many Natives who believe that Jesus Christ is the answer to the questions the Creator raised among his people centuries ago. I've had to be very discerning about what I take in as true wisdom and what I respect as another person's faith.
That isn't a bad thing.
One of the most amazing experiences I have had as staff here has been the sweat ceremony. The symbology of a traditional sweat is incredibly powerful. *I don't presume to be an expert on Native ceremony, but I'd like to share my understanding and those parts of the tradition that have resonated with my faith.*
You enter the lodge on your knees. Because the sweat is a purification ritual, there is no room for pride. You come to sweat to pray to the Creator who is greater than you. Humility is the only appropriate attitude for supplication. There is also a recognition that humility requires courage. The truly brave are those who can humble themselves.
Deeply ingrained in the ceremony is the battle to overcome fear - of darkness, of suffering, of the unknown... and most importantly the battle to overcome our fear of ourselves. The Creator will give you the strength to endure if you ask Him for it.
There are traditionally four "rounds" to the ceremony - four stages of prayer. Each stage gets progressively hotter (interestingly enough, the rocks are always introduced in multiples of 7... I'm not sure why). Similar to fasting, the physical discomfort of the body is offered to the Creator to shift your focus from physical things to spiritual things. The Creator has sacrificed for each of us, it is only fitting that we sacrifice our comfort to Him.
*In the ceremonies that I have participated in, the first round is devoted to asking the Creator to be present among the people - it is an invitation to the Great Spirit to fill each person and make them aware of His presence.
*The second round is a call to sacrifice and courage - it is also a time to focus on forgiveness and the sacrifice of self that is required to both forgive others and ask for forgiveness.
*The third round is a specific prayer lifted up to the Creator - it is an individual prayer based on each person's greatest need.
*The fourth round focuses on healing and renewal - it is also a commitment to do the work the Creator may ask of you to answer your prayer.
When you leave the sweat lodge - again on your knees - it is a rebirth. People are usually quiet and contemplative as they each have a personal celebration of this new life they're entering.
These are parts of the ceremony in which I have found a kernel of Truth. Despite those things that run contrary to my beliefs, I have had some pretty profound encounters with my God in the darkness and heat of the sweat lodge. I was able focus more deeply on prayer when I was able to shut the world out and concentrate solely on the moment. Powerful.
Native tradition, I believe, has a lot to teach modern Christians about living a life of prayer. Every day the clients read an Elder's meditation in our gathering. Today's had particular meaning for me.
"Each day, whatever I am doing, I am always praying and thinking of God."
--Thomas Yellowtail, CROW
Have you ever tried going through your day carrying on a conversation with the Creator? Many of our Elders live in prayer. They talk to the Creator like the Creator is their best friend. It is easiest to do this if we pray in the morning and ask the Great Spirit to direct our thinking. When the Creator is involved in guiding our lives, we will have less stress, anxiety, and tension. Maybe this is something we would like to try today. "Oh, Creator, look at the Sun, how beautiful you have made it. Oh, look at this child, isn't she just beautiful! Well, Creator, I'm not sure how I should do this task, what do you think? This person is starting to irritate me; I need your help to redirect my thinking. Thanks for returning me to a peaceful mind." Remember, the Creator also has a sense of humor.
Grandfather, let me walk in prayer.
Father, please let me walk in prayer.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
On fences
What are fences for, exactly?
They keep things in - and keep things out. They mark boundaries - this is mine and that is yours. They offer protection. Safety... and security.
There are fences all over; boundaries we define for the well-being of ourselves and society. Some in the physical sense and others as guidelines for behavior. We also build emotional fences.
To keep things in - and keep people out. To mark boundaries - me here, you there. To offer protection. Safety.
Security.
Much of the time, those fences are good for us. It's important to know your limits and to guard your heart. It's important to judge wisely what (and who) we give a place in our lives.
I've written before about trust - and my lack thereof. I've written that people aren't safe. In many ways, that's true. By the very nature of human relationships, the people we allow into our lives have been given the power to hurt us.
It happens.
Hurt is a part of life; and it's a part of love.
Sometimes people hurt us deliberately and bulldoze over our fences - for power, for satisfaction, for control... or maybe because they've been hurt and all they know is to lash out at someone else. Most of the time - in healthy relationships - people hurt us accidentally.
They don't mean to, it just happens.
Part of life. Part of love.
Sometimes the fences we build are bad - when we use them to hide from the world.
In my life I've built a lot of fences. There's nothing scarier to me than people who know too much. At times - though very rarely - I've expanded my boundaries - or maybe just opened the gate - to make room for people. It has always been a hard, hard blow when things don't turn out the way I want them to, and it seems like the more room I've made for them, the worse the response. I rarely react in a way that is healthy or wise.
Usually, I build my fences smaller and smaller, shutting out everyone. Usually, I even shut out God. I tell myself, "letting people in is stupid. Letting God in is stupid." It certainly feels that way, even though sometimes (like with God), it isn't.
Let's go back to security again - after a tangent or two.
I'm considering another tattoo. I know, I know... many people don't approve of them and I understand their reasoning. However, those tattoos I choose to get aren't frivolous or done on a whim. They're carefully thought out and have a deep meaning. They represent something I want, or perhaps need permanent reminders for.
This time I'm looking at a tattoo that represents love - and NOT a heart. Heaven help me. I hate cliche.
There are two reasons for wanting a symbol of love:
First, there is an organization called, To Write Love on Her Arms. You can read their story on their website, but their main purpose is to raise awareness and provide support for those struggling with self-harm and suicide. These issues hit home. And I want to write love on my arm.
Second, in keeping with the theme of my most recent tat, I've chosen the Adinkra symbol for love, because it is also a symbol for security:
EBAN - which
literally means fence. (Weird, huh? Fence = love? Interesting).
It is the symbol of love, safety and security
"The home to the Akan is a special place. A home which has a fence around it is considered to be an ideal residence. The fence symbolically separates and secures the family from the outside. Because of the security and the protection that a fence affords, the symbol is also associated with the security and safety one finds in love. "
-- from The Adinkra Dictionary
Interesting indeed.
Psalm 46(NKJV):
1 God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear,
Even though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;
10 Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!
Many have said that the Scriptures are a love story - between God and His people. They show how high and how deep is His love for us (Ephesians 3:18), and the lengths He will go to prove that love.
You know, like sending His Son to die on a cross.
Scriptures also show that His great love for us allows us to rest securely. Love and security. They go hand-in-hand, don't they? God's love builds a fence around us - a hedge of protection that keeps us safe - from the powers of this world and from ourselves.
Thankfully, unlike our own fences, God's boundaries are perfect. He provides guidelines to keep on the path He's set out for us. He knows us so well and so deeply that He knows exactly what we need to stay safe. Even when it doesn't feel safe. Even when He doesn't feel safe.
Because sometimes He doesn't. Maybe because He knows too much. And gets inside our fences and into the darkest places in us.
Psalm 139:
1 O LORD, You have searched me and known me.
2 You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
3 You comprehend my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word on my tongue,
But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
5 You have hedged me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
We need fences... and we need some fences to be torn down.
Lord, give me the wisdom to know where to build my fences. Amen.
They keep things in - and keep things out. They mark boundaries - this is mine and that is yours. They offer protection. Safety... and security.
There are fences all over; boundaries we define for the well-being of ourselves and society. Some in the physical sense and others as guidelines for behavior. We also build emotional fences.
To keep things in - and keep people out. To mark boundaries - me here, you there. To offer protection. Safety.
Much of the time, those fences are good for us. It's important to know your limits and to guard your heart. It's important to judge wisely what (and who) we give a place in our lives.
I've written before about trust - and my lack thereof. I've written that people aren't safe. In many ways, that's true. By the very nature of human relationships, the people we allow into our lives have been given the power to hurt us.
It happens.
Hurt is a part of life; and it's a part of love.
Sometimes people hurt us deliberately and bulldoze over our fences - for power, for satisfaction, for control... or maybe because they've been hurt and all they know is to lash out at someone else. Most of the time - in healthy relationships - people hurt us accidentally.
They don't mean to, it just happens.
Part of life. Part of love.
Sometimes the fences we build are bad - when we use them to hide from the world.
In my life I've built a lot of fences. There's nothing scarier to me than people who know too much. At times - though very rarely - I've expanded my boundaries - or maybe just opened the gate - to make room for people. It has always been a hard, hard blow when things don't turn out the way I want them to, and it seems like the more room I've made for them, the worse the response. I rarely react in a way that is healthy or wise.
Usually, I build my fences smaller and smaller, shutting out everyone. Usually, I even shut out God. I tell myself, "letting people in is stupid. Letting God in is stupid." It certainly feels that way, even though sometimes (like with God), it isn't.
Let's go back to security again - after a tangent or two.
I'm considering another tattoo. I know, I know... many people don't approve of them and I understand their reasoning. However, those tattoos I choose to get aren't frivolous or done on a whim. They're carefully thought out and have a deep meaning. They represent something I want, or perhaps need permanent reminders for.
This time I'm looking at a tattoo that represents love - and NOT a heart. Heaven help me. I hate cliche.
There are two reasons for wanting a symbol of love:
First, there is an organization called, To Write Love on Her Arms. You can read their story on their website, but their main purpose is to raise awareness and provide support for those struggling with self-harm and suicide. These issues hit home. And I want to write love on my arm.
Second, in keeping with the theme of my most recent tat, I've chosen the Adinkra symbol for love, because it is also a symbol for security:
EBAN - which
literally means fence. (Weird, huh? Fence = love? Interesting).
It is the symbol of love, safety and security
"The home to the Akan is a special place. A home which has a fence around it is considered to be an ideal residence. The fence symbolically separates and secures the family from the outside. Because of the security and the protection that a fence affords, the symbol is also associated with the security and safety one finds in love. "
-- from The Adinkra Dictionary
Interesting indeed.
Psalm 46(NKJV):
1 God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear,
Even though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;
10 Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!
Many have said that the Scriptures are a love story - between God and His people. They show how high and how deep is His love for us (Ephesians 3:18), and the lengths He will go to prove that love.
You know, like sending His Son to die on a cross.
Scriptures also show that His great love for us allows us to rest securely. Love and security. They go hand-in-hand, don't they? God's love builds a fence around us - a hedge of protection that keeps us safe - from the powers of this world and from ourselves.
Thankfully, unlike our own fences, God's boundaries are perfect. He provides guidelines to keep on the path He's set out for us. He knows us so well and so deeply that He knows exactly what we need to stay safe. Even when it doesn't feel safe. Even when He doesn't feel safe.
Because sometimes He doesn't. Maybe because He knows too much. And gets inside our fences and into the darkest places in us.
Psalm 139:
1 O LORD, You have searched me and known me.
2 You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
3 You comprehend my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word on my tongue,
But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
5 You have hedged me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
We need fences... and we need some fences to be torn down.
Lord, give me the wisdom to know where to build my fences. Amen.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
My Label Maker
I have this nifty little lable maker, complete with QWERTY keyboard that prints out the neatest, crispest labels EVER. When I'm in an organizing mood (which, admittedly, is rare), I drag that thing out and print off label after label. We have a similar one at work and when I have a spare moment or need a distraction I start printing labels. Just one of my things.
Labels give things meaning and purpose. Labels give things identity and belonging.
They make a random drawer into a drawer that holds "Markers," and they turn cabinets into storehouses for spices, canned goods, first aid supplies, etc. They tell someone "This book belongs to..."
Labels make things valuable - or not so much.
Just look at clothing. A tiny little "DKNY" makes a plain black t-shirt worth a great deal more than a tiny little "Faded Glory." Labels tell us what to expect.
Labels give people meaning too. Labels make people valuable... or not so much.
I was visiting Lysa TerKeurst's blog a few days ago when she asked what are some of the ways her readers have labeled themselves. I thought about that for a while before replying.
My mental label maker has been awful busy.
I've taken on a lot of labels:
victim,
broken,
unlovable,
shameful,
hopeless...
These are - were - my identity... "just who I am."
I lived in these labels and they were real to me. I knew that I would never be anything else. After all, weren't they written on my heart, my soul and even my body for everyone to see? Didn't I prove them to be true over and over and over again?
But God is changing my reality and I'm working on accepting His labels: redeemed, adopted, loved, forgiven... a much better identity to live in, isn't it?
I'm working on letting God be my Label Maker.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
No More
I've been finding myself at a loss for words a lot lately. Really at a loss.
Sometimes I don't speak because I can't find words I'm comfortable saying. It isn't that there aren't a lot of things going on in my head, I just don't want to share them without some serious editing.
Sometimes I don't speak because I can't find words that are more important than the ones I'm hearing. I prefer to listen - either because someone I care about has something to say, or because I need to hear the sound of someone's voice.
And then there are the times like the last week.
At these times, I don't speak because I can't find words at all.
I do a lot of crying though.
Not the bad, dark, dangerous kind of crying I've done so often, just the wordless weeping of a little girl asking her Daddy for... something.
I don't know what I'm asking. I don't really know my self right now. I've been used to living a certain way for quite some time... and things are changing. I don't know what to do with those changes.
God is grabbing 'hold of all those security blankets I've clung to and He's saying, "Let them go now."
He's taking a broom to all those dusty corners and He's saying, "Clean them up now."
He's throwing wide the doors of all those dark closets and He's saying, "Air them out now."
Let go of old habits, clean up the old thoughts, air out those old secrets.
"No more hiding, Bethany."
But God, I want to hide. I like those blankets and corners and closets. They're safe. They're comfortable. Lord, don't take them away, they're all I know. Hiding is all I know.
"No more hiding, child."
But God, can't I just - ?
"Bethany. NO. MORE."
I'll be honest, "no more" is not the answer I want to hear. When I sit crying for I-don't-know-what, "No more" is not the what I'm looking for.
But it's the what I've been given.
It's the how.
It's the why.
So I don't have a lot of words (despite the length of this post) as I sit here in this... wondering what "no more" will look like.
It's scary.
Sometimes I don't speak because I can't find words I'm comfortable saying. It isn't that there aren't a lot of things going on in my head, I just don't want to share them without some serious editing.
Sometimes I don't speak because I can't find words that are more important than the ones I'm hearing. I prefer to listen - either because someone I care about has something to say, or because I need to hear the sound of someone's voice.
And then there are the times like the last week.
At these times, I don't speak because I can't find words at all.
I do a lot of crying though.
Not the bad, dark, dangerous kind of crying I've done so often, just the wordless weeping of a little girl asking her Daddy for... something.
I don't know what I'm asking. I don't really know my self right now. I've been used to living a certain way for quite some time... and things are changing. I don't know what to do with those changes.
God is grabbing 'hold of all those security blankets I've clung to and He's saying, "Let them go now."
He's taking a broom to all those dusty corners and He's saying, "Clean them up now."
He's throwing wide the doors of all those dark closets and He's saying, "Air them out now."
Let go of old habits, clean up the old thoughts, air out those old secrets.
"No more hiding, Bethany."
But God, I want to hide. I like those blankets and corners and closets. They're safe. They're comfortable. Lord, don't take them away, they're all I know. Hiding is all I know.
"No more hiding, child."
But God, can't I just - ?
"Bethany. NO. MORE."
I'll be honest, "no more" is not the answer I want to hear. When I sit crying for I-don't-know-what, "No more" is not the what I'm looking for.
But it's the what I've been given.
It's the how.
It's the why.
So I don't have a lot of words (despite the length of this post) as I sit here in this... wondering what "no more" will look like.
It's scary.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
When you feel swept off your feet...
...maybe it's time to get on your knees.
This has been a hard week, but God has been faithful and has helped me through it. I'm on the knife's edge of ugly AND I'm somehow still standing - or perhaps kneeling.
Right now I'm taking a break in the middle of a 17 hour shift (I'm working a double). I was at work until 12:30am last night and had to be at work at 7:00am this morning. It's also my Friday so I am at the end of my capacity to function. I think I've downed more caffeine today than I usually consume in a week...
Jesus, please help me through the next 7 1/2 hours in a way that pleases You. "May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, o LORD, my strength and my redeemer!" (Psalm 19:14). I'm not feeling kind, or understanding, or patient so please let Your kindness, understanding and patience shine through me. AMEN.
On a positive note, the reason I'm working a double today is because on the 12th I will be moving to a shift-lead position on day shift. I should be home most days by 5:30pm and will actually get to see my children. I've been praying for this for the past year and it has finally come in God's perfect timing. I love it when that happens.
Please take a moment to pray for me over the next few days - hard!hard!HARD! I desperately need it.
This has been a hard week, but God has been faithful and has helped me through it. I'm on the knife's edge of ugly AND I'm somehow still standing - or perhaps kneeling.
Right now I'm taking a break in the middle of a 17 hour shift (I'm working a double). I was at work until 12:30am last night and had to be at work at 7:00am this morning. It's also my Friday so I am at the end of my capacity to function. I think I've downed more caffeine today than I usually consume in a week...
Jesus, please help me through the next 7 1/2 hours in a way that pleases You. "May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, o LORD, my strength and my redeemer!" (Psalm 19:14). I'm not feeling kind, or understanding, or patient so please let Your kindness, understanding and patience shine through me. AMEN.
On a positive note, the reason I'm working a double today is because on the 12th I will be moving to a shift-lead position on day shift. I should be home most days by 5:30pm and will actually get to see my children. I've been praying for this for the past year and it has finally come in God's perfect timing. I love it when that happens.
Please take a moment to pray for me over the next few days - hard!hard!HARD! I desperately need it.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
What am I thinking?
I'm really confused right now and I'm feeling a lot of things I don't understand. I wish things were cut and dry.
But they aren't.
My ex is moving 3,000 miles away. I'm incredibly happy about it, but there's a part of me that isn't. I don't know if I'm sad or angry or... what?
One day I'm going to be strong enough for a confrontation - strong enough to admit where I failed AND call him to the carpet for his own choices. I'm no where near there yet, but I have to believe that day is coming. Hard to stand up and be strong from 3,000 miles away.
The last four months have been heinous and I need him to go away. I've made a lot of stupid choices, and he's taken some of my choices away. I've tried to take the whole blame for what's happened and I've taken on fault that isn't mine. My own guilt is enough, I shouldn't try to carry his. I've lied to protect him - again. Why do I do that?
Hard as it is for me to admit, there's a part of me that still loves him, or at least very desperately wishes things were different. I want to keep giving him opportunities, even though it means getting hurt. I keep hoping that one day I'll have real value in his eyes, other than what I can do for him. I keep hoping that one day I'll be worth being treated like a treasure instead of like trash. And I know that day isn't likely to come.
And he's leaving our kids. Now, the bigger part of me knows this is a good thing. He doesn't pay attention to them, they come home miserable from visits and they don't want to go to his house unless his girlfriend/fiancee (what is she now?) is there. They aren't sad he's leaving... but he's their father. Good or bad, he's the man God has put in their lives. They don't have anyone else. They're going to miss him. And when he stops calling, they're going to wonder why he stopped loving them. They're going to wonder what they did to stop being important.
I'm going to tell them they didn't do anything... and hope they believe me.
Speaking of his whatever-she-is... yet again my kids are losing someone significant. They love her and love spending time with her. She's staying here, and although she's said she wants to continue to see them, I'm afraid it won't last. Relationships fade when there isn't anything there to tie people together. My kids have already learned this... they've experienced it too many times in the last few months. My heart aches for the hard lessons they've had to learn.
So I'm glad he's leaving, and sad he's leaving, and mad he's leaving... and I feel bad that I'm all those things.
What am I thinking?
But they aren't.
My ex is moving 3,000 miles away. I'm incredibly happy about it, but there's a part of me that isn't. I don't know if I'm sad or angry or... what?
One day I'm going to be strong enough for a confrontation - strong enough to admit where I failed AND call him to the carpet for his own choices. I'm no where near there yet, but I have to believe that day is coming. Hard to stand up and be strong from 3,000 miles away.
The last four months have been heinous and I need him to go away. I've made a lot of stupid choices, and he's taken some of my choices away. I've tried to take the whole blame for what's happened and I've taken on fault that isn't mine. My own guilt is enough, I shouldn't try to carry his. I've lied to protect him - again. Why do I do that?
Hard as it is for me to admit, there's a part of me that still loves him, or at least very desperately wishes things were different. I want to keep giving him opportunities, even though it means getting hurt. I keep hoping that one day I'll have real value in his eyes, other than what I can do for him. I keep hoping that one day I'll be worth being treated like a treasure instead of like trash. And I know that day isn't likely to come.
And he's leaving our kids. Now, the bigger part of me knows this is a good thing. He doesn't pay attention to them, they come home miserable from visits and they don't want to go to his house unless his girlfriend/fiancee (what is she now?) is there. They aren't sad he's leaving... but he's their father. Good or bad, he's the man God has put in their lives. They don't have anyone else. They're going to miss him. And when he stops calling, they're going to wonder why he stopped loving them. They're going to wonder what they did to stop being important.
I'm going to tell them they didn't do anything... and hope they believe me.
Speaking of his whatever-she-is... yet again my kids are losing someone significant. They love her and love spending time with her. She's staying here, and although she's said she wants to continue to see them, I'm afraid it won't last. Relationships fade when there isn't anything there to tie people together. My kids have already learned this... they've experienced it too many times in the last few months. My heart aches for the hard lessons they've had to learn.
So I'm glad he's leaving, and sad he's leaving, and mad he's leaving... and I feel bad that I'm all those things.
What am I thinking?
Friday, April 23, 2010
Standing in the rain...
I live in Oregon and if you know anything about Oregon, you know it rains here. A lot. That's why it's so green and beautiful - especially on those days when it isn't raining.
It hasn't really rained a whole lot in the last week, but I'm kind of wishing it had. There's something cleansing about standing in the rain - OK, maybe you have to be a native Oregonian to think that. But any hoo... right now, standing outside in the rain sounds really good.
I can't believe I'm praying for rain.
And before you think it, I'm not in crisis. I'm ok.
I'm just sad. And tired. And a bit overwhelmed.
I have a lot on my plate right now and it feels unending.
I really want to cry or throw a tantrum, but I don't feel like there's an appropriate time or place to do that...
I have responsibilities that can't wait for a tantrum. Expectations I have to meet. Obligations I have to fulfil. Every time I turn around it seems like there's something else.
Extra responsibilities at work, a mountain of dishes that didn't get done waiting for me when I get home from work at 1am, field trips to pay for, an ever-increasing pile of bills that aren't being covered by my paycheck, a yard that I've let get completely out of hand that I have to clean up by next Tuesday or get evicted, uncomfortable therapy homework, calls home from the school, kids home from school for head lice (ICK!!), helping my kids sort through their feelings about their dad's upcoming move 3,000 miles away (without revealing my absolute JOY that he's leaving), and did I mention bills I can't pay? :::sigh:::
Where's that rain?
All that said, I really am ok. Overwhelmed, but ok.
Feels good.
Given my current mood, this song seems pretty apropos.
Standing.
The rain passes... the storm ends... and I'll still be standing.
Whether I feel I can make it or not, whether I feel righteous or not, whether I feel like I can stand or not, God has made me righteous in His sight. God has promised He will help me stand.
When the storm has swept by, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand firm forever. Proverbs 10:35
In the rain. In the sun. I'll stand.
I'll tantrum and cry and stand through the storms that come my way.
I'll stand through the hard, confusing, overwhelming stuff I'm working through. There's a reason for it. There's purpose and meaning. And there's a promise at the end.
Crying may last for the night; but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5
Yup.
I'll stand.
It hasn't really rained a whole lot in the last week, but I'm kind of wishing it had. There's something cleansing about standing in the rain - OK, maybe you have to be a native Oregonian to think that. But any hoo... right now, standing outside in the rain sounds really good.
I can't believe I'm praying for rain.
And before you think it, I'm not in crisis. I'm ok.
I'm just sad. And tired. And a bit overwhelmed.
I have a lot on my plate right now and it feels unending.
I really want to cry or throw a tantrum, but I don't feel like there's an appropriate time or place to do that...
I have responsibilities that can't wait for a tantrum. Expectations I have to meet. Obligations I have to fulfil. Every time I turn around it seems like there's something else.
Extra responsibilities at work, a mountain of dishes that didn't get done waiting for me when I get home from work at 1am, field trips to pay for, an ever-increasing pile of bills that aren't being covered by my paycheck, a yard that I've let get completely out of hand that I have to clean up by next Tuesday or get evicted, uncomfortable therapy homework, calls home from the school, kids home from school for head lice (ICK!!), helping my kids sort through their feelings about their dad's upcoming move 3,000 miles away (without revealing my absolute JOY that he's leaving), and did I mention bills I can't pay? :::sigh:::
Where's that rain?
All that said, I really am ok. Overwhelmed, but ok.
Feels good.
Given my current mood, this song seems pretty apropos.
Stand in the Rain ~ Superchick
She never slows down.
She doesn't know why but she knows that when she's all alone,
feels like its all coming down
She won't turn around
The shadows are long and she fears if she cries that first tear,
the tears will not stop raining down
[CHORUS]
So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it's all crashing down
You stand through the pain You won't drown
And one day, whats lost can be found
You stand in the rain
She won't make a sound
Alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering
if she stands she'll fall down
She wants to be found
The only way out is through everything she's running from
wants to give up and lie down.
[CHORUS]
So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it's all crashing down
You stand through the pain
You won't drown
And one day, whats lost can be found
Standing.
The rain passes... the storm ends... and I'll still be standing.
Whether I feel I can make it or not, whether I feel righteous or not, whether I feel like I can stand or not, God has made me righteous in His sight. God has promised He will help me stand.
When the storm has swept by, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand firm forever. Proverbs 10:35
In the rain. In the sun. I'll stand.
I'll tantrum and cry and stand through the storms that come my way.
I'll stand through the hard, confusing, overwhelming stuff I'm working through. There's a reason for it. There's purpose and meaning. And there's a promise at the end.
Crying may last for the night; but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5
Yup.
I'll stand.
I won't be swept away in this.
I can stand.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Raising Awareness: "Badmom" Syndrome
"Badmom" Syndrome is a serious condition that effects millions of women worldwide. It's primary symptoms are emotional dysregulation, psychosomatic paralysis and excessive anxiety.
I am one of the afflicted.
Probably, so are you.
Ok, so I might be a little bit tongue-in-cheek.
There's no real "Badmom" Syndrome but it sure feels like it sometimes.
Doesn't it?
I'll be honest for a moment here; I've been seriously suffering from "Badmom" Syndrome lately. It seems like the older my children gets, the worse I feel about my parenting. I don't think it's supposed to be this way.
In general, I just feel like I'm coming up short in so many ways. I look at all their poor choices, and struggles and all of the "bad stuff" going on in their lives and I just know it's all my fault.
Oh, those poor choices get to me. Poor choices in language. Poor choices in friends. Poor choices in behavior. All my fault.
Yep. "Badmom" syndrome at it's worst.
Yet if I'm honest with myself, I have a lot of areas to work on AND I'm still doing the best I can at this moment. I could wish for a lot of things and feel bad because I don't have/do/say them... or I could accept life as it is right now and try to make the most of it. I could accept that my children will make poor choices as part of their journey in life. I could accept that I won't do everything perfectly - and neither will they.
I could accept instead of wallowing. Instead of suffering under the weight of "Badmom" Syndrome. Because you know what? The real "bad moms" in the world don't think they are. The real "bad moms" don't care.
Perhaps we should look to God's example. He doesn't suffer from "Baddad" Syndrome even though His children suffer, struggle and make poor choices. After all, if He were defined by our poor choices, He wouldn't be God, would He?
But He is.
He is who He says He is, so rest in who He says you are.
That's the cure for "Badmom" Syndrome.
I am one of the afflicted.
Ok, so I might be a little bit tongue-in-cheek.
There's no real "Badmom" Syndrome but it sure feels like it sometimes.
I'll be honest for a moment here; I've been seriously suffering from "Badmom" Syndrome lately. It seems like the older my children gets, the worse I feel about my parenting. I don't think it's supposed to be this way.
In general, I just feel like I'm coming up short in so many ways. I look at all their poor choices, and struggles and all of the "bad stuff" going on in their lives and I just know it's all my fault.
Oh, those poor choices get to me. Poor choices in language. Poor choices in friends. Poor choices in behavior. All my fault.
Yep. "Badmom" syndrome at it's worst.
Yet if I'm honest with myself, I have a lot of areas to work on AND I'm still doing the best I can at this moment. I could wish for a lot of things and feel bad because I don't have/do/say them... or I could accept life as it is right now and try to make the most of it. I could accept that my children will make poor choices as part of their journey in life. I could accept that I won't do everything perfectly - and neither will they.
I could accept instead of wallowing. Instead of suffering under the weight of "Badmom" Syndrome. Because you know what? The real "bad moms" in the world don't think they are. The real "bad moms" don't care.
Perhaps we should look to God's example. He doesn't suffer from "Baddad" Syndrome even though His children suffer, struggle and make poor choices. After all, if He were defined by our poor choices, He wouldn't be God, would He?
He is who He says He is, so rest in who He says you are.
That's the cure for "Badmom" Syndrome.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Reverse
How do we hit the rewind button on our thinking? How can we possibly reverse all of the damage that is done to our hearts and our minds by living life in a fallen world?
And what if we have doubts?
The world yells its version of the truth so loudly that sometimes even Christians struggle to hear the Voice of Truth amidst all the noise. So how can we expect the lost to hear it?
Jesus reverses our thinking. That's all there is to it.
But more than that.
He reverses death itself.
We were DEAD - not just dying - DEAD in our sin.
We're mortal and death is irreversible.
We can't just decide one day, "Oh, I don't want to be dead anymore," and resurrect ourselves.
It doesn't work that way.
Only the One who defeated death - who has the power to command life and death - can reach down into our dead-ness and spark new life. Only HIS touch can reverse the irreversible.
His.
You know, the One we sin against. The One we doubt and deny and deride and disobey.
Him.
Kinda amazing isn't it?
And what if we have doubts?
The world yells its version of the truth so loudly that sometimes even Christians struggle to hear the Voice of Truth amidst all the noise. So how can we expect the lost to hear it?
Jesus reverses our thinking. That's all there is to it.
But more than that.
He reverses death itself.
We were DEAD - not just dying - DEAD in our sin.
We're mortal and death is irreversible.
We can't just decide one day, "Oh, I don't want to be dead anymore," and resurrect ourselves.
It doesn't work that way.
Only the One who defeated death - who has the power to command life and death - can reach down into our dead-ness and spark new life. Only HIS touch can reverse the irreversible.
His.
You know, the One we sin against. The One we doubt and deny and deride and disobey.
Him.
Kinda amazing isn't it?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
On to something completely frivolous...
...AND completely therapeutic!
Last week was craptastic (explain later) and under "normal" circumstances it would have reduced me to a blubbering and perhaps bloody mess.
Granted, I did spend an inordinate amount of time curled up in my church's baptismal (weird but effective!) in the past 7 days, but I'm learning that regulating my emotions does NOT mean removing them entirely.
I get to cry. And not feel stupid for it.
Anyway.
One of the skills I'm supposed to be working on is "building positive experiences." But I have to be honest, when it comes to doing things for myself, I seem to have lost all creativity. I couldn't even come up with fun activities to do. My biggest treat to myself recently was my tattoo and... well... while tats aren't excruciating, they are painful. And I'm kinda, sorta supposed to be moving away from the whole pain-as-relief thing.
I digress.
Point is, I'm not really good at fun and frivolous.
So I enlisted the help of a friend (remember that post about treatment and the whole whine about being alone? Well... sometimes you just have to open your eyes to see what God has already put in front of you) and she dragged me off to a pedicure.
MY FIRST PEDICURE EVER!!!
I know, right? Tragic. I have been seriously deprived for 32 years.
I have to admit, it was a bit surreal. I mean, I'm not exactly a fashionista, and I'm not big on feminine frills, and I HATE feet (ew). I especially hate people touching my feet. I thought my friend was going to have to strap me down, but I was amazed at how little it bothered me... perhaps the massage chair had something to do with it.
Never had that experience before either.
My feet were washed and smoothed and oiled and massaged... my toenails were clipped and shaped and painted purple. With flowers. Pretty little white flowers.
Oh my heavens.
It's amazing what the simple pleasures can do for you.
My life is complicated and likes to implode at a moment's notice.
But my toes are pretty.
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Last week was craptastic (explain later) and under "normal" circumstances it would have reduced me to a blubbering and perhaps bloody mess.
Granted, I did spend an inordinate amount of time curled up in my church's baptismal (weird but effective!) in the past 7 days, but I'm learning that regulating my emotions does NOT mean removing them entirely.
I get to cry. And not feel stupid for it.
Anyway.
One of the skills I'm supposed to be working on is "building positive experiences." But I have to be honest, when it comes to doing things for myself, I seem to have lost all creativity. I couldn't even come up with fun activities to do. My biggest treat to myself recently was my tattoo and... well... while tats aren't excruciating, they are painful. And I'm kinda, sorta supposed to be moving away from the whole pain-as-relief thing.
I digress.
Point is, I'm not really good at fun and frivolous.
So I enlisted the help of a friend (remember that post about treatment and the whole whine about being alone? Well... sometimes you just have to open your eyes to see what God has already put in front of you) and she dragged me off to a pedicure.
MY FIRST PEDICURE EVER!!!
I know, right? Tragic. I have been seriously deprived for 32 years.
I have to admit, it was a bit surreal. I mean, I'm not exactly a fashionista, and I'm not big on feminine frills, and I HATE feet (ew). I especially hate people touching my feet. I thought my friend was going to have to strap me down, but I was amazed at how little it bothered me... perhaps the massage chair had something to do with it.
Never had that experience before either.
My feet were washed and smoothed and oiled and massaged... my toenails were clipped and shaped and painted purple. With flowers. Pretty little white flowers.
Oh my heavens.
It's amazing what the simple pleasures can do for you.
My life is complicated and likes to implode at a moment's notice.
But my toes are pretty.
.jpg)
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Pass me Over
Pass Me Over
The blood on the lintel and posts of the door
Painting a hope for salvation
The rushing of wings in the darkest of nights
The weeping and cries of a nation.
~
Young men and mamas with babes in their arms
Daddies clutching young sons
They stand at the table with one single prayer,
"YAHWEH! Please pass us over!"
The blood and the body, the bread and the wine
"Do this so you will remember."
The bruised, the afflicted, the striped and the torn;
A ransom securing forever
~
"LORD take this cup, if it be Your will,
But Your will alone shall be done,"
He knelt in the garden alone in His prayer
"YAHWEH! Please pass me over!"
The blood on the crossbeam, the post and the nails
Painting the world with salvation
Darkness descending, God's hand tore the veil
Redeeming the sins of the nations
~
"Father forgive them!" He cried out in prayer,
"You know that they don't understand;
I am the last Lamb whose blood must be shed."
"YAHWEH! Please pass them over!"
Painting a hope for salvation
The rushing of wings in the darkest of nights
The weeping and cries of a nation.
~
Young men and mamas with babes in their arms
Daddies clutching young sons
They stand at the table with one single prayer,
"YAHWEH! Please pass us over!"
The blood and the body, the bread and the wine
"Do this so you will remember."
The bruised, the afflicted, the striped and the torn;
A ransom securing forever
~
"LORD take this cup, if it be Your will,
But Your will alone shall be done,"
He knelt in the garden alone in His prayer
"YAHWEH! Please pass me over!"
The blood on the crossbeam, the post and the nails
Painting the world with salvation
Darkness descending, God's hand tore the veil
Redeeming the sins of the nations
~
"Father forgive them!" He cried out in prayer,
"You know that they don't understand;
I am the last Lamb whose blood must be shed."
"YAHWEH! Please pass them over!"
The blood of forgiveness, the blood of my hope
The Sinless made sin just for me.
Three days, come the morning, the stone rolled away
My Jesus is risen, I'm free!
~
"Father forgive me!" I cry out in prayer,
"I know that my sins lead to death.
But I have been bought by the blood of the Lamb."
"YAHWEH! Please pass me over!"
~Bethany
Happy Resurrection Day!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Radically
When I first started dialectical behavioral therapy I wondered how I could possibly reconcile the Eastern influences with what I know to be true. I had a closed mind - not only because of everything I mentioned in the last post, but also because I didn't believe that a secular-yet-zenish program would have any truth to offer me.
And yet...
The one principle of DBT that I struggle the most with is also the one that challenges me to a deeper understanding of my relationship with Christ.
The first time my therapist introduced the principle of Radical Acceptance, I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or rage. I HATED it. Passionately.
I'm supposed to accept life as it is? Totally? Completely? Are you kidding me?
I sat in my skills group a few weeks ago watching a video about Radical Acceptance for the second time. All of a sudden I was struck by something - this is where I need to be with God.
I'd love to be able to say I've seen the light and I not only "get" these principles, I live them out every day of my life.
But I don't.
Radical acceptance is about as easy for me as threading a camel through the eye of a needle. I fight against it at every turn. My therapist calls it treatment-interfering thinking/behaviors. My God calls it rebellion. I'm still fighting God for Lordship that was never mine - and could never be mine - to begin with.
And at times I am desperately willing... and then it gets hard, and harder... and I want to give up because it hurts.
Accepting God radically, totally and completely...? Sometimes it hurts. Who am I in the face of His holiness? Why would He bother? How could I be valuable enough for God to lay out a plan specifically for me? And if God is wrong to choose me, He obviously must be wrong in His plans for me. Or not.
And yet...
The one principle of DBT that I struggle the most with is also the one that challenges me to a deeper understanding of my relationship with Christ.
The first time my therapist introduced the principle of Radical Acceptance, I didn't know whether I wanted to cry or rage. I HATED it. Passionately.
I'm supposed to accept life as it is? Totally? Completely? Are you kidding me?
I sat in my skills group a few weeks ago watching a video about Radical Acceptance for the second time. All of a sudden I was struck by something - this is where I need to be with God.
- Freedom from suffering (and from sin) requires acceptance from deep within of what is... Doesn't it just? Sin is what is. The reality that we are sinful beings who are separated from God as a result of our choices is something we must accept. Deeply. If there is any doubt in our minds that we are sinful and desperately need God, we will never truly accept His hand on our lives. Freedom comes when we not only accept who we are, but also when we accept who He is. Which leads to the second... Acceptance is the only way out of hell.
- Pain creates suffering only when you refuse to accept the pain. How many of us fight against the life we've been given? How many of us, deep down, believe that God should have done something - anything - different to prevent all the hurts that life throws our way? How many of us, deep down, believe that things weren't supposed to happen the way they did? Most of us I would say, perhaps all. And when we focus on what "should have been" we lose sight of the reality that God has ordered everything according to his PERFECT will. Our pain has a purpose. Our trials have a purpose. Our heartache has a purpose. As hard as it is to understand, God meant for our lives to be the way they are... AND He means to change them.
- To accept something is not the same as judging it good. Just because a tragedy is part of God's plan does not mean it is good. It just works together for the good. Rape, murder, abuse, death... we do not have to approve of these things in order to accept them. They are the reality of life in a fallen world, and they are part of what has to be because we are sinful. Our sin not only makes these things possible, it makes them inevitable. We can't rise above our circumstances until we accept that they are what they are and only God can lift us up out of them.
- Acceptance of reality as it is requires an act of choice. Now, we could delve into one of the greatest theological debates of all time - free will vs. predestination - but both those spiritual extremes are a too-simplistic explanation of our relationship to Christ. God and God alone is responsible for our salvation, but we are not passive participants in God's work in our lives. The call of the Holy Spirit is a call to action.
- You have to turn your mind and commit... OVER and OVER and OVER again. Again, I don't want to stumble into the territory of "once saved, always saved" and losing your salvation, but... the Christian walk requires a daily (and sometimes hourly) renewal of our commitment to God. It requires a continuous need to die to ourselves and live for Him. It requires waking up in the morning and saying, "I accept your Lordship over my life." It requires staring in the face of temptation and saying, "I am no longer your slave." It requires a constant working out of our salvation. Every moment. Every hour. Every day.
- We are to cultivate a willing response to each situation. Our response to the various bumps in the road should be, "yes LORD!" rather than "why me?" Willingness involves giving over control of ourselves to the working of the Holy Spirit in and through us. We cannot radically accept Christ if we are not also radically willing to accept Him. Too often we act out of willfulness instead.
- Willfulness is giving up... trying to fix every situation (on our own)... refusing to tolerate the moment. Willfulness is telling God, "I can't" instead of saying, "YOU can." Or we say, "I can do this without you." We try to do things on our own and then when we fail, we often refuse to allow God to step in and pick up the pieces. Or even worse, we try to argue with God about what should have been... and think we can avoid our struggles completely if God would just cooperate and do things our way.
I'd love to be able to say I've seen the light and I not only "get" these principles, I live them out every day of my life.
But I don't.
Radical acceptance is about as easy for me as threading a camel through the eye of a needle. I fight against it at every turn. My therapist calls it treatment-interfering thinking/behaviors. My God calls it rebellion. I'm still fighting God for Lordship that was never mine - and could never be mine - to begin with.
And at times I am desperately willing... and then it gets hard, and harder... and I want to give up because it hurts.
Accepting God radically, totally and completely...? Sometimes it hurts. Who am I in the face of His holiness? Why would He bother? How could I be valuable enough for God to lay out a plan specifically for me? And if God is wrong to choose me, He obviously must be wrong in His plans for me. Or not.
Life is what it is... but more importantly, God is who He says He is.
Our LORD.
Radically.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Treatment
Even though I've been pretty honest about my mental health struggles, I'm still ashamed and embarrassed by them. I should just get over it. I should be able to do this on my own. I should be sane, healthy, rational, normal... Blah, blah, blah.
A few months ago I entered a pretty intense therapy program. It's so hard to admit that I need something like this. My clients at work need treatment like this, not me.
Right?
Wrong.
It feels like a confirmation that I'm crazy. Truly crazy. And in a way, though it's supposed to give me hope, it leaves me feeling like I can't be helped. I know that feeling isn't justified - because I am getting better.
Slowly.
With lots of bumps along the way.
Lots of digging at old stuff I'd rather just stay buried, and old, ingrained thoughts/interpretations that need challenging. And lots of disobedience along the way - I'll get to that later.
It is so, so hard and it hurts so much. (I'm whining). And it's a bit humiliating to be in this position. I can count on one hand and an extra finger the people in my life who know about it.
*One only knows because someone else told her - and I don't know if I'm angry about it or just hurt.
*Two aren't very present in my life anymore - and... there's nothing I can do about it except get over it.
*One has gone through the program herself but liked it, she has her own issues to deal with and we haven't really talked for a while either so...
*One is a co-worker that caught me at a really bad time and got dumped on - she's turned into a pretty good friend, but again, her own issues (actually, her kids').
*And the last is my former therapist, who I'm not supposed to be in contact with anymore.
Great support system.
Why haven't I told other people? Two reasons:
1) I'm embarrassed - yup, said it again
2) Who would I tell?
The roommates who come with more baggage than a 747? The people @ church I don't quite trust (mostly my problem, not theirs)? The co-workers who are so judgmental of our clients I can't even imagine what they'd say to - or about - me? The mom who thinks mental illness is something to be ashamed of? My kids? My ex? Who else is in my life?
I actually nearly lost it last week in session when my therapist handed me this flyer for a "Family & Friends Workshop."
I wanted to cry because there's no one to invite.
"There has to be someone - if not the workshop, to come in and sit down with the two of us - to talk about how to best support you in this hard work," says my therapist.
Nope. There's no one.
And you know what? There just aren't that many people who are safe to tell.
People see mental health problems as a character flaw. A lack of faith. Selfishness. Attention-seeking behavior. A personal failing.
Or an unwillingness to try.
Through all of this, the most hurtful thing I've heard from people is, "If you really wanted to get better, you would." Really. Really? Because I like being this way.
I like having nightmares, and wanting to hurt myself, and being afraid all the time. I like doing stupid, sinful things because I don't feel like I can be anything better. I like feeling ashamed and worthless. I like having people ask, "Do you need to check in to the hospital?" when I'm struggling. I like telling people I'm sad or hurting and the automatic question is, "Are you safe?"
Yes, I like being mentally ill and miserable.
But if I just wanted it bad enough, :::poof!::: I'd be better.
Perhaps that's true for some people... but it isn't true for me.
I desperately want it.
I'm just not always certain I deserve it.
Maybe that's why hope is so hard for me.
Because hope hurts too... sometimes a lot.
Believing that things can be different, yearning for that change... yet being terrified that it won't happen - that it can't happen. Terrified that I'll screw it up.
Again.
A few months ago I entered a pretty intense therapy program. It's so hard to admit that I need something like this. My clients at work need treatment like this, not me.
Right?
Wrong.
It feels like a confirmation that I'm crazy. Truly crazy. And in a way, though it's supposed to give me hope, it leaves me feeling like I can't be helped. I know that feeling isn't justified - because I am getting better.
Slowly.
With lots of bumps along the way.
Lots of digging at old stuff I'd rather just stay buried, and old, ingrained thoughts/interpretations that need challenging. And lots of disobedience along the way - I'll get to that later.
It is so, so hard and it hurts so much. (I'm whining). And it's a bit humiliating to be in this position. I can count on one hand and an extra finger the people in my life who know about it.
*One only knows because someone else told her - and I don't know if I'm angry about it or just hurt.
*Two aren't very present in my life anymore - and... there's nothing I can do about it except get over it.
*One has gone through the program herself but liked it, she has her own issues to deal with and we haven't really talked for a while either so...
*One is a co-worker that caught me at a really bad time and got dumped on - she's turned into a pretty good friend, but again, her own issues (actually, her kids').
*And the last is my former therapist, who I'm not supposed to be in contact with anymore.
Great support system.
Why haven't I told other people? Two reasons:
1) I'm embarrassed - yup, said it again
2) Who would I tell?
The roommates who come with more baggage than a 747? The people @ church I don't quite trust (mostly my problem, not theirs)? The co-workers who are so judgmental of our clients I can't even imagine what they'd say to - or about - me? The mom who thinks mental illness is something to be ashamed of? My kids? My ex? Who else is in my life?
I actually nearly lost it last week in session when my therapist handed me this flyer for a "Family & Friends Workshop."
I wanted to cry because there's no one to invite.
"There has to be someone - if not the workshop, to come in and sit down with the two of us - to talk about how to best support you in this hard work," says my therapist.
Nope. There's no one.
And you know what? There just aren't that many people who are safe to tell.
People see mental health problems as a character flaw. A lack of faith. Selfishness. Attention-seeking behavior. A personal failing.
Or an unwillingness to try.
Through all of this, the most hurtful thing I've heard from people is, "If you really wanted to get better, you would." Really. Really? Because I like being this way.
I like having nightmares, and wanting to hurt myself, and being afraid all the time. I like doing stupid, sinful things because I don't feel like I can be anything better. I like feeling ashamed and worthless. I like having people ask, "Do you need to check in to the hospital?" when I'm struggling. I like telling people I'm sad or hurting and the automatic question is, "Are you safe?"
Yes, I like being mentally ill and miserable.
But if I just wanted it bad enough, :::poof!::: I'd be better.
Perhaps that's true for some people... but it isn't true for me.
I desperately want it.
I'm just not always certain I deserve it.
Maybe that's why hope is so hard for me.
Because hope hurts too... sometimes a lot.
Believing that things can be different, yearning for that change... yet being terrified that it won't happen - that it can't happen. Terrified that I'll screw it up.
Again.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Nyame Biribi wo Soro
Back in September I read a post at Annie Blogs about an Adinkran symbol for hope. I thought the symbol was pretty so I researched it a bit further, and thought "that would make a great tattoo." Then I set it aside.
Hope.
I like hope, but for months it felt completely out of reach. Life is so real, so HERE, and hope seemed so... nebulous. I've written about hope before, felt it strongly at times, but I just wasn't feeling it in those moments that grew to months.
What reason did I have to hope?
Hmm... What a sad, sad question for a Christian to ask.
What reason did I have to hope indeed.
Hope.
I like hope, but for months it felt completely out of reach. Life is so real, so HERE, and hope seemed so... nebulous. I've written about hope before, felt it strongly at times, but I just wasn't feeling it in those moments that grew to months.
What reason did I have to hope?
Hmm... What a sad, sad question for a Christian to ask.
What reason did I have to hope indeed.
Nyame Biribi wo Soro.
God is in the heavens.
He hears our prayers.
Always.
Continuously.
Steadfastly.
My soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is.
So I say, "My endurance has perished, so has my hope from the LORD."
Remember my affliction and my wanderings; the wormwood and the gall!
My soul continuously remembers it and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in Him." Lamentations 3:17-24
Isn't it interesting that the very source of our hope is that God truly is still in the heavens. He always was, always IS and always will be.
There's no better definition for hope.
A few weeks ago, I got that tattoo. Right there on my wrist.
Perhaps you can see the scars that criss-cross my arm there.
Symbols of shame and darkness... of affliction and pain... covered by a symbol of hope.
My hope.
Your hope.
Hope for the whole world wrapped up in five little words:
God is in the heavens.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
And time can do so much...
Well.
It's been almost two months and it feels like an eternity. I didn't intend to take a blog break, it just happened that way.
Part of it is I just didn't know (ugh!) how to come back to my last post. I wanted easy, sensible, non-crazy-person answers to some really tough questions... and I still don't have them.
Part of it is trying to sort out priorities. Does blogging really have a place in my life? How else could I be spending my time? The answers here came easier, though it took longer than I anticipated. Should blogging be a part of my life? Yes. I miss it, and having an outlet was good for me. And yet... should I spend the same amount of time I had been spending in the blogiverse? Nope. What does that mean, exactly? No clue.
Part of it is my work hours. Lately I've been working 50+ hours a week. It's exhausting and I'm not just burnt out - I'm crispified. I recently took a week off and went back hoping I would be refreshed and excited again. I'm not. So now I wait on God and an open door - and fill out lots of applications.
Part of it is wanting (yet not wanting) to be alone. I've been avoiding people... trying to avoid sharing too much. I slip up every once in a while and feel awful about it later. I want to talk to people, but I'm not sure I can... not sure anyone really wants to listen (pity-party thinking, I know).
So I've stayed away... internet included. No blog, no facebook and email only once a week. I guess, in a way, I've been in hiding.
Not anymore. I'm baaaaaaack!
It's been almost two months and it feels like an eternity. I didn't intend to take a blog break, it just happened that way.
Part of it is I just didn't know (ugh!) how to come back to my last post. I wanted easy, sensible, non-crazy-person answers to some really tough questions... and I still don't have them.
Part of it is trying to sort out priorities. Does blogging really have a place in my life? How else could I be spending my time? The answers here came easier, though it took longer than I anticipated. Should blogging be a part of my life? Yes. I miss it, and having an outlet was good for me. And yet... should I spend the same amount of time I had been spending in the blogiverse? Nope. What does that mean, exactly? No clue.
Part of it is my work hours. Lately I've been working 50+ hours a week. It's exhausting and I'm not just burnt out - I'm crispified. I recently took a week off and went back hoping I would be refreshed and excited again. I'm not. So now I wait on God and an open door - and fill out lots of applications.
Part of it is wanting (yet not wanting) to be alone. I've been avoiding people... trying to avoid sharing too much. I slip up every once in a while and feel awful about it later. I want to talk to people, but I'm not sure I can... not sure anyone really wants to listen (pity-party thinking, I know).
So I've stayed away... internet included. No blog, no facebook and email only once a week. I guess, in a way, I've been in hiding.
Not anymore. I'm baaaaaaack!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I don't know.
Deep down, those three words (well, four if you want to get technical) terrify me.
I pride myself in knowing.
I'm smart.
Ok, more than that... my intelligence is the only thing in myself that I have never questioned. Mensa-level-IQ and all. Whoopdie do. It's my secret arrogance. (Ok, maybe not so secret).
I have no problem saying, "I don't know, but I can find out."
That's easy, because I learn like breathing.
I like learning new information. I'm good at it.
Only sometimes, some answers can't come from a book or off the internet. They have to come from inside you... and being "smart" rarely helps.
So saying "I don't know" and actually meaning it?
Says a lot.
Hurts a lot.
Costs a lot.
Because most of the time I say, "I don't know" because I'm too lazy to go look it up, or because I don't want to talk about it, or because it's easier to deflect by pretending ignorance. Rarely because I truly don't know and don't know how to figure it out.
I've been asked a lot of really HARD questions lately... and I haven't had the answers - haven't been able to find them on my own. It's left me feeling a bit... shaken. Even if I don't do or feel the most reasonable, rational, cognitively sound thing, I usually know what that thing is.
Except lately I don't.
It's unsettling when I don't know.
It's terrifying.
I don't know (haha) where this post is leading, so I'm going to have to come back to it later.
I pride myself in knowing.
I'm smart.
Ok, more than that... my intelligence is the only thing in myself that I have never questioned. Mensa-level-IQ and all. Whoopdie do. It's my secret arrogance. (Ok, maybe not so secret).
I have no problem saying, "I don't know, but I can find out."
That's easy, because I learn like breathing.
I like learning new information. I'm good at it.
Only sometimes, some answers can't come from a book or off the internet. They have to come from inside you... and being "smart" rarely helps.
So saying "I don't know" and actually meaning it?
Says a lot.
Hurts a lot.
Costs a lot.
Because most of the time I say, "I don't know" because I'm too lazy to go look it up, or because I don't want to talk about it, or because it's easier to deflect by pretending ignorance. Rarely because I truly don't know and don't know how to figure it out.
I've been asked a lot of really HARD questions lately... and I haven't had the answers - haven't been able to find them on my own. It's left me feeling a bit... shaken. Even if I don't do or feel the most reasonable, rational, cognitively sound thing, I usually know what that thing is.
Except lately I don't.
It's unsettling when I don't know.
It's terrifying.
I don't know (haha) where this post is leading, so I'm going to have to come back to it later.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
200
200 words in honor of my 200th post:
morning * fear * calling * joy * hope * freedom * purpose * contentment * grace * afraid * Beyond * Christian * fair * tired * good * Christ * random * heart * life * church * Spirit * crazy * faith * home * move * clean * abortion * suicide * come * safe * healing * died * caught * waiting * time * hospital * little * patient * chance * stubborn * harsh * Bible * plan * blah * hates * Lord * whining * wonder * blessed * Jesus * funk * mercies * divorce * strange * prayer * sick * foolish * today * why * walking * jealous * work * hurts * talk * thankful * love * exhausted * threw * small * broken * sorry * books * chaos * light * regret * lesson * saga * surrender * secrets * trying * fix * caring * marriage * miserable * abused * cost * carried * seeking * crisis * rebellious * cutting * trouble * violent * petulant * reckless * happy * blood * frustrating * ugh * finish * this * guarded * quiet * disappointment * days * nights * abandoned * please * treat * missed * together * directed * miracle * knees * believe * treasure * open * past * feel * hands * mom * again * air * Father * glory * seven * choose * breathe * true * grumpy * trial * venting * thought * child * rational * testing * sad * weak * amazing * years * worthless * growth * faithful * great * food * song * marked * air * kids * help * pain * despair * stress * time * coward * noticed * need * Beloved * small * season * filled * overcoming * sleep * connection * dad * fed * lost * wonder * daughter * suffered * pen * helpless * restraint * whatever * confession * Cross * disaster * conflict * facing * forgive * crashing * hollow * strange * loophole * tragic * drama * dreams * seriously * rant * Moment * school * gossip * paralyzed * listened * radical * promise * community * stop * challenge * way
morning * fear * calling * joy * hope * freedom * purpose * contentment * grace * afraid * Beyond * Christian * fair * tired * good * Christ * random * heart * life * church * Spirit * crazy * faith * home * move * clean * abortion * suicide * come * safe * healing * died * caught * waiting * time * hospital * little * patient * chance * stubborn * harsh * Bible * plan * blah * hates * Lord * whining * wonder * blessed * Jesus * funk * mercies * divorce * strange * prayer * sick * foolish * today * why * walking * jealous * work * hurts * talk * thankful * love * exhausted * threw * small * broken * sorry * books * chaos * light * regret * lesson * saga * surrender * secrets * trying * fix * caring * marriage * miserable * abused * cost * carried * seeking * crisis * rebellious * cutting * trouble * violent * petulant * reckless * happy * blood * frustrating * ugh * finish * this * guarded * quiet * disappointment * days * nights * abandoned * please * treat * missed * together * directed * miracle * knees * believe * treasure * open * past * feel * hands * mom * again * air * Father * glory * seven * choose * breathe * true * grumpy * trial * venting * thought * child * rational * testing * sad * weak * amazing * years * worthless * growth * faithful * great * food * song * marked * air * kids * help * pain * despair * stress * time * coward * noticed * need * Beloved * small * season * filled * overcoming * sleep * connection * dad * fed * lost * wonder * daughter * suffered * pen * helpless * restraint * whatever * confession * Cross * disaster * conflict * facing * forgive * crashing * hollow * strange * loophole * tragic * drama * dreams * seriously * rant * Moment * school * gossip * paralyzed * listened * radical * promise * community * stop * challenge * way
Monday, January 11, 2010
Today is...
National Clean Off Your Desk Day!!!
So, what do you do if you don't have a desk?
Clean off your computer desktop! =)
That pesky "you have unused icons on your desktop" message seems to come up almost every day now. I really should get rid of the things I don't use. Unfortunately I'm an even worse packrat on my computer than I am in my home.
Of course, I'd much rather it was January 8th, which was Bubble Bath Day.
I still don't have a tub I can take a bath in, but it's a pretty dream. Lots and lots of bubbles, HOT HOT water, maybe candles... a good book... and QUIET! Ahhhhh. Bliss.
January 18th, which is Thesaurus Day, also sounds pretty good. I'm a walking Thesaurus so it's Bethany Day! Ha. I love words. Words have power. Words make me feel better.
I think I need a vacation, I'm losing it. =)
So, what do you do if you don't have a desk?
Clean off your computer desktop! =)
That pesky "you have unused icons on your desktop" message seems to come up almost every day now. I really should get rid of the things I don't use. Unfortunately I'm an even worse packrat on my computer than I am in my home.
Of course, I'd much rather it was January 8th, which was Bubble Bath Day.
I still don't have a tub I can take a bath in, but it's a pretty dream. Lots and lots of bubbles, HOT HOT water, maybe candles... a good book... and QUIET! Ahhhhh. Bliss.
January 18th, which is Thesaurus Day, also sounds pretty good. I'm a walking Thesaurus so it's Bethany Day! Ha. I love words. Words have power. Words make me feel better.
I think I need a vacation, I'm losing it. =)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Contentment & Change
Do you have to like life, or a certain set of circumstances, to be a "Good Christian?"
Can you accept that life is what it is AND want to change it, without being discontent?
What does contentment - in a Christian context - really mean, anyway?
I think contentment is one of the concepts I struggle with the most.
I understand not being greedy, envious, anxious or worried (ok, those last two are hard for me)... but being satisfied with the way things are? It doesn't make sense to me.
Being dissatisfied often leads to change. Change is good. Change requires some measure of discontent or there wouldn't be a desire to change. God wants us to change, right? In positive, healthy and spiritually beneficial ways?
I could go 'round and 'round with questions.
That isn't really the point.
How can a Christian reconcile wanting change with being content?
It's probably no surprise that I'm not thrilled with my life. It's been a long time since I've been able to feel anything even remotely resembling contentment. I can't deny that my attitude about my circumstances has been more sinful than not.
However.
I'm coming to terms with it. My life is what it is and there are some things that I have no power to change. There are other things that I might be able to change at some point, but not right now. And then there are those things I actually do have control over, right now.
Like the Serenity Prayer says, the real wisdom comes in knowing the difference.
Maybe that's where contentment comes from?
Knowing the difference.
And accepting it.
I can't unlive my life and I can't unchoose my choices. I can, however, choose to do differently in the future. I can also choose how I react to my circumstances, whether I can change them or not. I'm starting to think my reactions to a crisis have only fed into the next one.
James Dobson once said, "Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it." I'm starting to understand the truth in that statement.
I don't know if I will ever stop wishing some things had been different, or regretting sinful choices, but I think I can be unhappy with the way things have happened and accept their role in God's plan or my life.
I don't know what contentment is, but I hope it isn't defined as much by satisfaction as it is by acceptance.
Can you accept that life is what it is AND want to change it, without being discontent?
What does contentment - in a Christian context - really mean, anyway?
I think contentment is one of the concepts I struggle with the most.
I understand not being greedy, envious, anxious or worried (ok, those last two are hard for me)... but being satisfied with the way things are? It doesn't make sense to me.
Being dissatisfied often leads to change. Change is good. Change requires some measure of discontent or there wouldn't be a desire to change. God wants us to change, right? In positive, healthy and spiritually beneficial ways?
I could go 'round and 'round with questions.
That isn't really the point.
How can a Christian reconcile wanting change with being content?
It's probably no surprise that I'm not thrilled with my life. It's been a long time since I've been able to feel anything even remotely resembling contentment. I can't deny that my attitude about my circumstances has been more sinful than not.
However.
I'm coming to terms with it. My life is what it is and there are some things that I have no power to change. There are other things that I might be able to change at some point, but not right now. And then there are those things I actually do have control over, right now.
Like the Serenity Prayer says, the real wisdom comes in knowing the difference.
Maybe that's where contentment comes from?
Knowing the difference.
And accepting it.
I can't unlive my life and I can't unchoose my choices. I can, however, choose to do differently in the future. I can also choose how I react to my circumstances, whether I can change them or not. I'm starting to think my reactions to a crisis have only fed into the next one.
James Dobson once said, "Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it." I'm starting to understand the truth in that statement.
I don't know if I will ever stop wishing some things had been different, or regretting sinful choices, but I think I can be unhappy with the way things have happened and accept their role in God's plan or my life.
I don't know what contentment is, but I hope it isn't defined as much by satisfaction as it is by acceptance.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Pen is mightier than the...
Wow.
I have so many issues, I have subscriptions.
Today I lost a pen - granted, it was an amazingly awesome, not-run-of-the-mill pen - and I'm sitting here post-tantrum in a funk because I can't find it. I cried even. I really want my pen.
How weird is that?
It really is an amazing pen. Is it wrong to pray I find it?
I'm kidding.
I think.
:::sigh:::
It's interesting what we get attached to. It's also interesting that I was just talking to my therapist about the pen this morning. It was a pretty intense session and I sat there focused on twirling my pen. It's incredibly pretty... black and white pearlescent swirls. It was kind of mesmerizing.
Or at least something to focus on.
My therapist calls it a grounding tool - a coping mechanism.
That's a good thing, she says.
It means I'm trying to stay present and involved rather than running away from it.
Really?
I'll have to take her word for it...
... and here's where I get really weird...
Sometimes my pen makes me think about God.
Weirded out yet?
*It's heavy - a strong, solid weight that just settles perfectly into your hand and is impossible to ignore.
*It's ever-present in my mind, even when it feels as though I've lost it. Over the last few weeks I've carried it with me everywhere and it sits on my headboard when I go to sleep.
*It's comforting - the colors, the smoothness, the way it moves across the paper... it's soothing. Safe somehow, because I like to lose myself in writing and it makes that writing easy.
*It's something that makes me feel lost when it's missing in my life.
Like God. (Am I stretching this metaphor too much?)
*God is strong and solid. I can't miss how He fits every dip and curve and hollow of my soul perfectly.
*God is ever-present in my life, even when I'm not seeking Him. He goes with me everywhere, whether I'm conscious of it or not.
*God is comforting. He's safe... even when He isn't. He soothes even the roughest places and - with His power - life is just easier.
*And God...
when He's missing from my life?
I am utterly lost.
Hmm... speaking from recent experience.
(Maybe I did go too far with this metaphor).
But is there a better coping mechanism or grounding tool than God Himself?
I guess it's not such a big deal that I lost my pen (even though it feels like a big deal) but it is a really big deal when I feel as though I've lost my God.
I'm unbelievably grateful that He can't lose me.
Gotta love those 70x7 chances.
I have so many issues, I have subscriptions.
Today I lost a pen - granted, it was an amazingly awesome, not-run-of-the-mill pen - and I'm sitting here post-tantrum in a funk because I can't find it. I cried even. I really want my pen.
How weird is that?
It really is an amazing pen. Is it wrong to pray I find it?
I'm kidding.
I think.
:::sigh:::
It's interesting what we get attached to. It's also interesting that I was just talking to my therapist about the pen this morning. It was a pretty intense session and I sat there focused on twirling my pen. It's incredibly pretty... black and white pearlescent swirls. It was kind of mesmerizing.
Or at least something to focus on.
My therapist calls it a grounding tool - a coping mechanism.
That's a good thing, she says.
It means I'm trying to stay present and involved rather than running away from it.
Really?
I'll have to take her word for it...
... and here's where I get really weird...
Sometimes my pen makes me think about God.
Weirded out yet?
*It's heavy - a strong, solid weight that just settles perfectly into your hand and is impossible to ignore.
*It's ever-present in my mind, even when it feels as though I've lost it. Over the last few weeks I've carried it with me everywhere and it sits on my headboard when I go to sleep.
*It's comforting - the colors, the smoothness, the way it moves across the paper... it's soothing. Safe somehow, because I like to lose myself in writing and it makes that writing easy.
*It's something that makes me feel lost when it's missing in my life.
Like God. (Am I stretching this metaphor too much?)
*God is strong and solid. I can't miss how He fits every dip and curve and hollow of my soul perfectly.
*God is ever-present in my life, even when I'm not seeking Him. He goes with me everywhere, whether I'm conscious of it or not.
*God is comforting. He's safe... even when He isn't. He soothes even the roughest places and - with His power - life is just easier.
*And God...
when He's missing from my life?
I am utterly lost.
Hmm... speaking from recent experience.
(Maybe I did go too far with this metaphor).
But is there a better coping mechanism or grounding tool than God Himself?
I guess it's not such a big deal that I lost my pen (even though it feels like a big deal) but it is a really big deal when I feel as though I've lost my God.
I'm unbelievably grateful that He can't lose me.
Gotta love those 70x7 chances.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Eh...
I'm tired. Bone-deep, soul-worn tired.
I know, I know, I always complain about being tired.
Today I'm just worn out.
Work has been rough lately and I've gotten physically hammered. I have bruises and bumps and "strained muscles" in my back, shoulder and ankle. My blood pressure used to be 120/60 and it's currently sitting at 160/90. Work just isn't a joy anymore.
Relationship stuff is just exhausting. I know that some things really needed to change in the friendship department, but I'm hurting over it. Sundays are horrible. It doesn't usually get to me the rest of the week but on Sundays it's right there in my face and I don't know how to deal with the emotional tangle going on inside me.
I really, REALLY need a vacation.
On the bright side of things...
I've been doing a lot of hard, emotional work. It's also exhausting, but I'm slowly getting better. My thinking's getting a bit more rational, my emotions are more reasonable and my behavior - despite some notable stupidness - is healthier than it has been in months.
And God and I are back on speaking terms. I'm talking to Him again. This is very good.
Circumstances are awful right now, but I'm ok.
Nice feeling.
I know, I know, I always complain about being tired.
Today I'm just worn out.
Work has been rough lately and I've gotten physically hammered. I have bruises and bumps and "strained muscles" in my back, shoulder and ankle. My blood pressure used to be 120/60 and it's currently sitting at 160/90. Work just isn't a joy anymore.
Relationship stuff is just exhausting. I know that some things really needed to change in the friendship department, but I'm hurting over it. Sundays are horrible. It doesn't usually get to me the rest of the week but on Sundays it's right there in my face and I don't know how to deal with the emotional tangle going on inside me.
I really, REALLY need a vacation.
On the bright side of things...
I've been doing a lot of hard, emotional work. It's also exhausting, but I'm slowly getting better. My thinking's getting a bit more rational, my emotions are more reasonable and my behavior - despite some notable stupidness - is healthier than it has been in months.
And God and I are back on speaking terms. I'm talking to Him again. This is very good.
Circumstances are awful right now, but I'm ok.
Nice feeling.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Happy New Year
...and all that. I'm a bit of a New Year's scrooge.
Anyhoo.
A lot of people I know had a not-so-wonderful 2009 and I'm praying for a better year for everyone.
I'm praying that another year's worth of anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays will give me the opportunity to do things differently - to react differently and to act with more thought.
I'm praying that those friends who are facing the death of a loved one are able to find hope and strength, and that starting a year with grief won't mark the beginning of an entire year of sorrow.
I'm praying that those friends who are struggling with conflict within their families will be able to find a resolution that is positive and healthy for all involved. Forgiveness. I hope it's the catch-word for 2010.
I'm praying that I can be a better mom to my children and can figure out how to effectively do this 40+ hours a week working mom thing.
I'm praying that my church survives another year and that I'll once again want to be there every Sunday and call my church "home."
I'm praying for wisdom - in all situations.
In general, I'm praying that I'll pray... daily, continually and with an obedient heart. I wasn't on speaking terms with God very much in 2009 and it was miserable. Time for change.
Anyhoo.
A lot of people I know had a not-so-wonderful 2009 and I'm praying for a better year for everyone.
I'm praying that another year's worth of anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays will give me the opportunity to do things differently - to react differently and to act with more thought.
I'm praying that those friends who are facing the death of a loved one are able to find hope and strength, and that starting a year with grief won't mark the beginning of an entire year of sorrow.
I'm praying that those friends who are struggling with conflict within their families will be able to find a resolution that is positive and healthy for all involved. Forgiveness. I hope it's the catch-word for 2010.
I'm praying that I can be a better mom to my children and can figure out how to effectively do this 40+ hours a week working mom thing.
I'm praying that my church survives another year and that I'll once again want to be there every Sunday and call my church "home."
I'm praying for wisdom - in all situations.
In general, I'm praying that I'll pray... daily, continually and with an obedient heart. I wasn't on speaking terms with God very much in 2009 and it was miserable. Time for change.
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