Monday, November 29, 2010
Chocolate-Stuffed Worrier
I overestimate the size of my hands.
And I underestimate the volume of worry. Trying to wrap my hands around it is a losing game no matter how I play it. If you have ever seen the Lucy episode where she stands in front of a conveyer belt stuffing chocolate down her shirt and in her mouth and anywhere else she can stuff it, you understand what I mean. Worry is just like those pieces of chocolate. You pick one up, think you can breathe easily for a moment, then you look down and see a handful more in its place. It never stops.
So what's a chocolate-stuffed worrier to do?
Walk away. Lay them down and walk away. Instead of trying to hold it all together with my insufficient hands, I can find hands that are bigger and settle mine there, in His.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Hunger
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Brave Unfamiliar - Final Installment
And that truth will let me see Him, finally. Him, in His glory and protectiveness and fierce affection. As soon as I see Him, I won't be able to look at anything the same way again, because He will be there. He will be there at the job that makes me almost lose heart so often, walking beside me in those hallways whispering words of courage in my ears and molding my hand exactly to His own. He will be there in the lonely days, when I want what I don't have so badly that it hurts like a real ache, gently nudging me forward in the path He forged for me because He knows it's the best way. He will be there in the silence, letting me squirm and sweat beneath my barbell of effort, the ways I try to reach Him.
So many years of silence. So many years of squirming and sweating. He will be there, here, where He has been all along. The truth will let me see Him and it will lift the weight of the struggle off of me. Whether little by little or all at once, I will be free. And I will know that He has led me to that freedom from the very start.
This is the brave unfamiliar. It is happening already. It is happening now.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Brave Unfamiliar...Continued
So I have been praying a couple of specific things daily: Holy Spirit, please lead me to truth. Holy Spirit, please reveal to me the love of the Father. Then I say out loud so I can hear myself say it: I rely on you to lead me to truth and I rely on you to reveal the love of the Father to me. I've never said that kind of thing about relying on Him before. I guess that makes it an unfamiliar idea. Ok. Progress.
I've also been thinking about how much fear motivates me. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of losing love and affection. Fear of messing up. Fear of time running out. Fear of my own shame. The list goes on. In my walk with God these past twenty years, fear has been as present and as strong a motivator as love. I hate to admit, but it's true. I studied the Bible for hours every day as a kid because I wanted to know Him more, yes, but also because I wanted to stay on His good side. I traded in relationship for performance. And the thing that kills me is that I knew what I was doing. I have known all along, but I couldn't let go of the fear because I couldn't let go of control because I could never accept that He made me good enough. So I made up my own rules for my own game and I measured my worth by how well I played. And I pushed Him away.
I have had this longing, deep and all-consuming, for as long as I can remember: To know the love of God in freedom and without fear. The problem is that there is only one way to freedom: Truth. And truth doesn't play by my rules.
The truth is fear is a waste of time. I know I've let it waste a lot of mine. Thank God tomorrow is a new day and His mercy will be waiting for me when I wake up.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
My Two Favorite Places Besides Belgium
Ever since I was a kid, I have had this dream, a Big Dream, to live in Franklin, Tennessee and Canada. For those of you who have sort of grown used to having me around, you may blame my love of these distant lands on contemporary Christian music and Anne of Green Gables. As a young girl of ten or elven, being the innocent dreamer that I was, I was pretty sure that if I moved to Tennessee, I'd move in next to Amy Grant on one of the neighboring rolling hills of good old Franklin. And I was just as sure that I would be just as spellbound by the Lake of Shining Waters as Anne was on Prince Edward Island (and maybe I'd even meet my Gilbert there, too). So, I set my sights on the great beyond to the East and North. By the time I turned thirteen, I was a goner. My heart had flown away to far off places. My dream was no longer the silly musings a child. Somewhere along the way, it turned into a Plan--The Great Someday. And as for all of this Southern California business, I knew deep down in my soul that, just like Dolly Parton, I was only Travellin' Through.
I know that some of you would like me to take this opportunity to convey that I have grown out of my foolish childhood fancies, but this I cannot do. I have a feeling, a feeling born of a dream, that I was made to roam the roads between Highway 40 and Highway 65 and to breathe in the fresh, Canadian air. Lord willing, The Great Someday will happen...someday. In the meantime, I supppose I will bide my time while lounging at the beach this weekend.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Brave Unfamiliar
That's just not good enough anymore. I've been playing in puddles in the mud while He stands off in the distance, where the water meets the shore, waiting for me to join Him. I see Him waiting and hope catches in my throat. Its time I leave behind the nerveous familiar, my mud puddles, go to Him and face the brave unfamiliar.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Love in the Dark
Monday, June 21, 2010
Here is the Battle Again
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Timidity
The other part of it is that I am one of those timid types. Whether from childhood or from the way i'm wired, I have taken the one-down approach with myself in relation to everyone else and God for as long as I can remember. I am in my head all the time and in my head there is a critic. I want to be proud of myself. I want to be free. But this is not going to happen as long I let the critic remain.
In writing, I feel this desperate need to pull from the deepest place and produce something from there. This is the only honest way. I can never seem to do it, though. I think its because the honesty has to go through the filter of the critic before it comes out.
So as long as I let the critic remain, I will be unable to produce honest writing, I will never be proud of myself, never content with who I am or satisfied with where I am. Unless I change my default from timidity to something more in line with the truth, I will probably not see very much change in the way that I do life. I will not see much change in the way that I relate to people or God and certainly not in the way that I live and breathe in my own skin.
At the same time, I find myself in a bit of a predicament in a practical, tangible sort of way. I thought my life, at this point, would be about marriage and babies and the things that coincide with marriage and babies like house-cleaning and cooking and doctors appointments and visits to the in-laws. But, as it turns out, I was wrong. And I forgot to make a contingency plan. So here I am, wondering what to do now. Not proud of myself, except that I play the drums in a band. I am always in my head and I am always at war with myself in my head. These circumstances don't help. Its probably for the best that I'm not married with babies yet, because I would have assumed that they would have silenced the critic and they wouldn't have. This critic is in me. It is mine. And it is mine to send packing.
I don't know what to do next. There is the external what do I do and the internal what do I do. And unfortunately niether of them are flashing a solution to me in bright lights. I think sometimes its ok not to know. Sometimes not knowing can be what is best for us because it makes us dependent on the One who knows. But that dependence can turn into a cop-out in lazy hands, too.
This is what I know. Timidity is what makes me so anxious. Its what keeps me from trusting God. Whether or not I forget all about this five minutes from now or tomorrow or next week, this is the truth. Timidity keeps me in the confines of a child needing permission before love. It keeps me ever wrestling the giant that won't ever go away. Because the giant is me.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
The Bible
Because of the funk, or maybe to defy it, I have been spending a lot of time memorizing Scripture. I used to do this a lot when I was younger, but haven't as much in recent years. I'm making my way through Psalm 119 because it is all about God's word. The law of the Lord. Longing for it. Needing it. Walking in its ways. I figure if I get this Word and keep it inside of my head, then it will trickle down to the rest of me and I will be ok. In Psalm 1, David talks about how the person who delights in the law of the Lord is like a tree planted by rivers of water. And in Jeremiah 17, there is another tree analogy. It says a man who trusts and hopes in the Lord will be like a tree planted by rivers of water that spreads out its roots by the river. It isn't afraid of heat or anxious about drought because it is so connected to the river. I want to be like that tree. I want my roots to be in Him and in His Word so that I will be grounded, not fragile. Those roots will make this funk trivial.
I first stumbled upon those verses in Jeremiah (17:7,8) a couple of years ago. They made a mark on me. I started the lines below then. I guess its sort of a prayer.
A Tree By the River
Make me like a tree by the river
whose leaves of green will ever grow
make me like a tree by the river
who finds its strength in the river's flow
Make me like a tree by the river
who fears no loneliness or shame
make me like a tree by the river
who calls itself by the river's name
Make me like a tree by the river
who worries not about its need
make me like a tree by the river
whose roots reach down to the river's deep
Make me like a tree by the river
that stands strong in drought, wind, and rain
make me like a tree by the river
whose life began when the river came
Make me like a tree by the river
who knows from where it's glory comes
make me like a tree by the river
who shows the world what the river's done
Monday, April 12, 2010
Prayer
I don't pray so that I can feel close to God. I pray because the Bible says to pray. I don't pray so that I can feel connected to Him. I pray to be obedient. I have looked at prayer as a chance to have an emotional encounter with God. The better and stronger the emotion, the more validated would be the closeness of my relationship with Him. I do think that God wants to have close and intimate relationship with us, and I'm sure there are times when that intimacy will be expressed through strong feelings, but I bet our obedience matters more to Him than our emotion.
Sometimes, the feelings may follow the prayers. Probably, they won't more than they do. This takes some pressure off. I don't need to create times of intimate connection with God every day, at least not in the way that I have been trying to. My job is to pray with an obedient and humble heart. That is all. If the close feelings come, great. If they don't, they don't. My relationship with God will not be so fragile as to fall apart in the dry or quiet days. I guess I have been going about this all wrong for most of my life. How did I miss something that was right in front of me?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Sadness
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Sun Comes Up in Riverside
There is a quote from a book I read several years ago that really kind of hit me square in the face when I read it and it has been in the back of my mind all this time. I've been thinking about it lately. Its by Andrew Murray from a book called Waiting on God.
"He stirs up your nest. He disappoints your hope. He brings down your confidence. He makes you fear and tremble, as all your strength fails and you feel utterly weary and helpless. And all the while, He is spreading His strong wings for you to rest your weakness on and offering His everlasting Creator-strength to work in you. And all He asks is that you sink down in your weariness and wait on Him. Allow Him in His Jehovah strength to carry you as you ride upon the wings of His omnipotence."
For me, all of this is about coming to the end of myself and my grasp at control. Its about relying on God more than I rely on myself. This kind of thing doesn't come easily to me. Never has, but I'm determined to learn. I'm determined not to stay in this old self-reliant fortress any longer, where no one can reach me. Sleepless nights are out of my control. Pain in my mouth is out of my control. Knowing how things will end is out of my control. There is a special kind of freedom that comes with letting your hands hang limp and looking to God with more questions than answers, more sadness than hope. This is an honest place to be. And what better chance to really see the strength of God come through for me, than when my reserves are depleted? The Bible says in my weakness, He is strong. I think I'd like to take Him up on the offer.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Fighting Words
I feel it - the fear - slithering across my skin like a giant snake, weaving in and out and around until I can hardly stand beneath the weight of it. Crippling, paralyzing, fear, going in for the kill. I hate it. I hate it enough to do something about it.
But why would this time be different from any other time, all those millions of times, that I resolved to trust God and succeeded for about 10 minutes before pushing Him away again? (I am trying to come up with a really great answer to this question.)
Maybe I just gave up too quickly and too easily. Going to the mattresses is about not taking no for an answer. It's about putting on the fiercest fighting face you've got. It's about going after the thing you want so hard that either you win it or you die trying. I can do that. I will do that.
I will trust and not be afraid. These are my fighting words.