Opportunity

I’ve written a lot about fear lately – how it’s the root of a lot of the issues I’m grappling with, how I want to overcome it, how He is helping me recognize it and act in spite of it. Up until this point I’ve let Caution chart my course and have the final say in most of the decisions I make. I’ve let him rule my life because he is safe and will not allow me to take risks. If I never put myself out there, I’ll never experience failure or rejection, and although my life has been pretty boring it’s been safe because Caution’s system has worked for me. But I have finally begun to internalize the fact that in shielding me from certain things, he has been keeping me from others, not allowing me to reach my full potential, affording me no opportunities to learn, grow, and experience new things.

Just yesterday I wrote about putting safety first and posed questions about the safety of God’s will, of following Him into the great unknown:

Are God’s plans safe?  And by that I mean do they provide a sense of comfort or security and emotional well-being?  On a certain level they do as there is great relief in knowing that we are in His hands, being led by the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent One.  But on another level, I’ve come to find God’s plans for me are different than what I expected, in no way involve safety or caution, and are sometimes difficult. They require me to expose my fears, personally invest myself  in others, risk failure, do things that scare me to death like admit my faults and tell a painful story. They require action, and with that comes greater potential danger.  Injury doesn’t come in sitting still, but in movement, in making contact with others, in navigating uncharted courses.

It’s dangerous to venture into deeper waters.  I can’t touch the bottom, there are strong currents, and I’m not a strong swimmer.  Yet that’s the place He keeps calling me to.  He’s there and He wants me to meet Him, swim with Him in tides He controls, tides that frighten me. Caution would say to stay in the shallows, take no risks, and be content with what I have.  But He begs me to come, to start swimming, to move.  He wants me to dive deep, to plunge underneath insecurity, doubt, and fear.  And now I must make a choice:  sink or swim, trust Him or listen to Caution, chase a dream or drown in fear.  I’m going to swim, what about you?

Those are my words, I’m going to swim.  And now it’s time for me to actually do it.  You see, I’ve been presented with an opportunity – a chance to venture deeper, to go after my dream.  You can find out about it here. 

And whether I’m chosen or not, whether I’m the one who will see new opportunity or be presented with another not this time, I will rejoice.  For in the simple act of trying, I have silenced Caution’s voice for the first time ever.

Seasons

Most of us are familiar with Ecclesiastes 3 and its reminder that our lives are meted out in seasons – periods of time characterized by certain conditions or activities. Seasons are defined cycles.  They have appointed beginnings and selected ends. They are prearranged terms that serve specific functions, and although fleeting, every season has purpose. 

Sometimes I get caught up in the season I’m in. Whether it’s good or bad, I tend to focus on the activity of the phase rather than looking for its purpose, forgetting it is a defined period with a particular beginning and a precise end.  Some stages seem to last forever while others go by quickly and more often than not, it’s the unpleasant times, the times of toil and weeping and searching that appear to drag on endlessly, causing me to wonder if they really do have parameters and can only last so long, go so far.

The particular season I’m in is about to have its 10-month anniversary.  It’s one of those planting, tearing down, scattering stones, searching kind of seasons.  The type in which there’s a lot of work and no rest - all give and no take.  I know it will eventually bring a time of harvest, building up, gathering stones, and finding things lost, but quite honestly, I’m tired.  And then I remember another familiar verse, the one that instructs us not to become weary in doing good because we will reap the benefits of our work at an appointed time if we don’t give up (Gal. 6:9).  There it is again – an appointed time – one that has already been picked out, predestined just for me, but it is contingent upon my willingness to keep working. 

So yet again I am forced to make a choice.  Do I keep on when there is no end in sight, when I have no clue what God’s time table is, when I just want to pack up and go home?  Yes, because I don’t want to have worked in vain.  I have to force myself to remember that this, too, shall pass, and I have to focus on and believe in His plans for me, the ones including my prosperity, hope and future (Jer. 29:11).  Just as He has established this season’s beginning, He has coordinated its end.  He does all things well (Mark7:37), He prepared every day of my life before I even lived one of them (Psalm 139:16), and He will never leave me (Hebrews 13:5). He knows, He sees, and He cares, and He will reward my faithfulness.

Safety First

It seems as if there has been a theme in my life over the past year.  Not only have I experienced several major changes, but in those places it hasn’t come I’ve found myself desiring it. This is something quite out of the ordinary for me as I generally like a nice, tidy plan with no surprises. I’m not a risk-taker or adventurist.  I like to have my course mapped out, knowing where all the curves are, knowing the safest possible way to get from point to point. I’ve never been one to “throw caution to the wind.”  Caution is my friend.  He’s kept me safe all these years. He’s seen me through a lot of difficult situations and has guided me along a predictable path. But as I think of all the things Caution has chaperoned me through, I wonder what he has kept me from.

Have I let him hold me back? Have I allowed Caution’s voice to keep me from the bigger and better, the true desires of my heart? Sadly, the answer is yes. Caution and I became friends during my childhood years.  He appreciated my shy nature, understood what it was like to be afraid.  He helped me restrain myself, keeping me from possible pain and embarrassment. But the older I’ve gotten and the more I pray about things, I’m beginning to understand that perhaps Caution isn’t really who I need in my life.  Sure, he’s been my go-to guy in so many of life’s decisions, but is he really who I should listen to, put my trust in, and follow whole-heartedly? In using Caution’s strategies I’ve been safe, but is safety what I really need?

Are God’s plans safe?  And by that I mean do they provide a sense of comfort or security and emotional well-being?  On a certain level they do as there is great relief in knowing that we are in His hands, being led by the omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent One.  But on another level, I’ve come to find God’s plans for me are different than what I expected, in no way involve safety or caution, and are sometimes difficult. They require me to expose my fears, personally invest myself  in others, risk failure, do things that scare me to death like admit my faults and tell a painful story. They require action, and involve greater potential for danger.  Injury doesn’t come in sitting still, but in movement, in making contact with others, in navigating uncharted courses.

It’s dangerous to venture into deeper waters.  I can’t touch the bottom, there are strong currents, and I’m not a strong swimmer.  Yet that’s the place He keeps calling me to.  He’s there and He wants me to meet Him, swim with Him in tides He controls, tides that frighten me. Caution would say to stay in the shallows, take no risks, and be content with what I have.  But He begs me to come, to start swimming, to move.  He wants me to dive deep, to plunge underneath insecurity, doubt, and fear.  And now I must make a choice:  sink or swim, trust Him or listen to Caution, chase a dream or drown in fear.  I’m going to swim, what about you?

Procrastination = Fear

I recently read an article about the topic of procrastination, and was surprised by one of the assertions made.  It suggested that fear is one of the many reasons people delay action. The statement really caught my attention and made me think because I have never viewed postponement in that way.  I’m generally not one to stall, putting things off until the absolute last minute, but after reading this I started thinking about it and actually, there is one area in which I almost always procrastinate:  writing.

Throughout college and even in graduate school when a big writing assignment was due, I would always wait until it was absolutely necessary for me to start in order to turn the project in on time.  Whether the paper was 10 pages or whether it was a full thesis was inconsequential.  I continually paused, ever insisting that I work better under pressure, believing my excuse that the longer I waited the better I would perform.

Not too long ago I started a big project, a book actually, and I have found myself procrastinating once again.  Finding every other thing that needs to be done, I piddle around keeping busy, giving myself lame reasons why I just don’t have the time right now.  And then it hit me:  I’m afraid.  I am not writing daily because I am scared.  Intimidated by process, failure, readers, other writers, rejection, my own story, dealing with past trauma, revealing things about myself that only Jesus and I know – I am utterly freaked out by it all.  My procrastination is based in fear.

I am thankful God helped me realize my problem, and that He’s helping me work through it.  The time I take grappling with trepidation is wasted time.  The more time I waste, the less time there will be for those who need my story to hear it.  Every word I don’t write is a victory for Satan.  If he can keep me from writing by browbeating me with anxiety, he has stolen my voice and that’s exactly what he wants. 

I would like to challenge you today to think about areas in your life where you may be putting things off.  Is it simply because you don’t want to do them right now or is there a deeper reason?  The longer you wait to get started, the longer Satan has to prepare.  The more time you waste, the more ground he covers. Don’t let him win.  Don’t let him steal your voice.  Remember, those who God calls He also equips.

The Haircut

Together since three days after conception when one egg spontaneously split, my girls have always shared a special bond.  I’ll never truly understand what it’s like to be an identical twin, to be two people with separate hearts and minds and yet so closely connected that it’s as if each somehow lives inside the other.  It’s difficult to comprehend and articulate their relationship, their intimacy.  They were literally one person that became two, and it seems as if that oneness is still there, that even though their bodies separated, their souls somehow did not. 

Strongly connected and strikingly similar, they know each other’s thoughts and feelings, and often say the same thing at the same time.  As infants they had their own language – a mixture of real and made-up vocabulary.  Both knew each word’s meaning and they carried on full conversations and played games for hours on end using their twin language.  They’ve even had telepathic moments in which one sister has felt the pain of the other or has known something was wrong and became very distressed because she needed to be with her sister, to know she was okay.

Sure they have distinct personalities and several differences, but in many ways they are exactly alike, and until this point in their lives they have reveled in their singularity, their sameness.  But this year things have started to change.  Although they are extremely close and still want to be together at school and in other settings, they are becoming more desirous of distinguishing characteristics, features that set each apart from the other.  The need goes beyond an expanded wardrobe of different clothing styles and has stretched into a desire to be physically dissimilar.

And so the younger-by-nine-minutes twin, the one who wears her heart on her sleeve and takes everything so personally, the one who doesn’t like being confused with her sister and feels slighted when she is decided to get a haircut.  She told me she wanted to be different from Sissy, to have a look all her own.  She wanted to be recognized in her own right, to be distinguishable on sight.  Yesterday she got her hair cut and in changing her appearance it was as though her whole life was transformed.  In a way, I suppose it was, for now she is different, set apart, recognizable for who she is.

I know how my daughter felt.  In the bookstore a few days ago I had the same overwhelming desire.  Look at all these books, so many authors.  I’m one in a sea of many. How am I going to stand out?  What makes me different from everyone else who has a story to tell? Who’s going to recognize me or want to hear my voice?  And then I hear Him, the One who always knows what to say:  You’re already set apart because you are Mine.  You are different because I have called you.  You cannot compare yourself or your gift to others.  You have your own unique voice, but if you never use it because you are afraid of comparison, rejection, or failure, then the people I have prepared to hear it will never know our story.

And isn’t that all I’ve ever wanted?  To know I’ve been set apart, made for a purpose, and have an individual calling that no one else can do quite like me?  That’s something all of us want – to stand out, be recognized, be known for our uniqueness.  Be encouraged today.  Don’t be afraid; don’t stop because you are one in a sea of many.  So what if there are others who have the same talent?  No one can do exactly what you can, has your unique voice, or your distinctive story.  No one else is specifically designed to reach the people He has prepared for you.

I Peter 2:9 (NIV) - But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

Guilt

 

Guilt is a cruel task master.  He loves taking prisoners, mandating punishment, and lording over those trying to pay penance for unknown offenses.  I’ve worked in his camp for years awaiting release, but my number’s never been called.  The parole board won’t see me, just says there’s more work to be done.  You see, the problem is that I haven’t fully succumbed.  My will is not yet broken, my mind not yet convinced of wrongdoing.  And so, I have to stay here shoveling coals which fuel Guilt’s rage, stoking a fire intended to purge my iniquities, shoveling ashes of my own charred emotions, burying them deep so the truth can’t be seen.

The sins I’m paying for aren’t mine, He took care of those long ago.  The evils I compensate for are ones existing only in the minds of others.  Because I didn’t conform, do exactly as instructed without question, without fighting back, Guilt was dispatched to imprison my thoughts, reign in my soul. I can’t be allowed to call things what they are, expose twisted mindsets, think freely, or live without paying homage.  Instead, I must be imprisoned, work for Guilt, feeding the very monster who tortures me.

But I found out something Guilt doesn’t know I know.  There’s a way of escape, a breach in the walls.  I pick at it a little each day as I go by, and with each dig a little more sunlight – bright hope is revealed.  I found Someone on the other side.  He told me I don’t have to stay here – that Guilt is only as powerful as I allow him to be.  He told me He looks on my heart, knows my thoughts, sees my motives.  He wants me to stop trying to make up for things I didn’t do. He even said it’s okay to be myself and to not feel bad about wanting to be free. He said it’s okay to let go, because those people will never release me.  I have to fight for myself this time. He loves me and wants me to escape.

Guilt thought he would keep me forever, but today I’m breaking free.  My Friend is waiting at the wall – He’s going to help me through and take me safely to the other side.  I’m going to live with Him now, I’m going to run free.  Guilt is no longer my master, and those who sent him control me no more. 

Romans 8:1 – Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Control

There are so many things in this life over which we have no control.  Circumstances arise unexpectedly throwing us for a loop and making us question how we’re going to make it or why it’s all happening.  But change is a natural part of life and we have to learn to deal with the fact that there will be times we are powerless to avoid conflict. Often, in those times so difficult, God gently reminds us that we are held safe in His hands, even though we are surprised He is not, and it is He who gives us power to overcome and adapt.  He works on our behalf, changing either us or the situation, causing us to find anew His grace, strength, and provision.

But what about the times when it isn’t circumstances, but people who wreak havoc in our lives? Sure we need God when the car needs to be repaired and there’s just not enough in the budget or when our kids are sick and we need them to be well, but what about when that grumpy co-worker gives us a hard time on Monday morning, or family members call to make sure we remember what we haven’t done right or what Uncle Johnny did 15 years ago?   Those are the moments we need to run hardest to Him, yet more often than not those are the occasions when we stay away, trying to handle the problem on our own.

So many times I have let people control me.  I’ve allowed guilt to creep in, resentment and anger to take hold, and fear of rejection or what others think to become my focus.  I have let the actions and words of others dictate my life. I didn’t want it to happen, I didn’t consciously decide to let those people control my thoughts and emotions, but in not taking those issues to God in prayer and in attempting to handle things on my own, I set myself up, putting my heart, mind, and spirit in a compromised position.

And then I receive encouragement:  You don’t have to be influenced by your situation.  You can be the one who influences.  Whether it is people or circumstances, you don’t have to be controlled by what you can’t control. Isn’t that a novel thought?  Actually, I’m the one who’s in control.  I can choose the things or people I allow to have place in my life.  I don’t have to set myself up for failure.  He can give me the ability to react differently. 

In letting go of things and people I can never change, in releasing hurt, and in freeing myself of the need to understand motives, the whys of the unexplainable, I am actually gaining control.  I am the influencer rather than the influenced. 

The Decision of Grace

Grace is defined as generosity of spirit – a capacity to tolerate, accommodate, or forgive.  Even though we think of grace more in spiritual and emotional terms, it is very much an intellectual process.  It requires a decision – a determination about something. We have to make up our minds to both give and receive grace. So often I have been guilty of compartmentalizing grace, allowing only my spirit and emotions to be affected.  In so doing, I have only partially given or received it.

I  have difficulty comprehending the fact of God’s grace, because I know and remember all the things I have done.  Comprehension, knowledge, and memory, all intellectual functions, are heavily involved in my capacity to give and receive.  In my spirit I am thankful for grace, in my emotions I am happy to have received it, but my mind often fights by bringing up the past and rendering me incapable of accepting the forgiveness that is available. That’s where the decision-making process comes in.

I have to consciously determine to receive God’s free gift.  I know the things I have done, I remember the pain they caused, and I don’t fully understand the concept, but I have to purposefully, willfully decide to accept the grace that has been generously offered.  Once I have done that, I must then purposefully and willfully decide to extend the same free grace to others.  I have to choose to forgive, even though I have knowledge, memory, and comprehension of the acts that require pardon. Those are choices that have to be made in the heart, spirit and mind.  Every part of my being must be intentionally engaged in the process.

Grace is free but it surely isn’t cheap.  It was bought at a heavy price and the decision to accept it for ourselves and extend it to others is costly. 

Bipolar Mother

Remember yesterday’s frustration-fueled rant about how I’m glad school’s back in session?  I lied.  What is it about motherhood that brings such duplicity?  Some days I want to go to a land far, far away, heavily considering no return; and others I feel like a mother hen, wanting to gather my little ones under feathery love, keeping them close, shielding their hearts from all the hurt in the world.

Anxious to the point of nausea, I stole one last kiss as they hopped out of the car.  It felt as if those gym doors were the portal to Satan’s lair and I was just idly watching as they skipped off into the abyss.  It’s only school, I know, and I’ll see them  at 3:00 and by 6:00 I’ll probably be ready to pull my hair out once again, but that moment this morning was harder for me than it has ever been. When they were little I was foolish enough to believe that it would get easier the older and more self-reliant they became, but I’m finding out now just how wrong I was.

Through this stage in my children’s lives, I’m learning about trust yet again.  I can’t go everywhere with them, but He can.  I can’t keep them from hurts or make choices for them.  I just have to trust that God has heard my prayers, will build on the foundation laid, and will be faithful to keep them safe and help them endure the trials they will face. I’ve done my part and now I have trust Him to do His. 

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. – Ephesians 3:20-21

Hallelujah, It's Time for School!

***Warning*** Information contained in this post is raw, reveals graphic details of my life as a mom, and may be disturbing to some readers.  It may also take me out of first place in the contest for Mother of the Year.

I have been so worried about the approaching school year and what it will hold for my kids.  They’re older now and will be facing much more than they ever have.  From changing classes every period, to finding out things about life they don’t yet need to know, to keeping up with lockers and planners and having the latest fashion trend that I’m pretty sure I can’t afford, to dealing with rejection and snobby kids and people making fun of them or telling them they’re not good enough – it all makes me so nervous.  It was bad enough the first time around, but experiencing it as a parent is far worse than I ever imagined.  I have prayed for them, talked to them, and done everything in my power to prepare them for the start of the new year, but still the nagging anxiety has lingered.  That is, until yesterday.

Constant bickering, picking, correcting, fighting – that was the order of the day. They are good kids, really, and don’t have many days like this one, but when they do, I’d rather be on a deserted island in the Pacific than in my own home.  I felt pushed to my limit and could not produce a coherent thought or get through any task without having to intervene in someone’s crisis.  Prepubescent emotions were running high and my patience was wearing thin.  And then I sat down to catch up on some reading – big mistake.  A lot of what I read was about the sadness summer’s end brings, the difficulty of releasing perfect little cherubs back into the world after months of blissful family togetherness.

Now questioning my parenting skills and devotion to motherhood, I feel guilty. Am I the only mom who needs a schedule and a few uninterrupted hours in the day to get things done?  Surely not, but then, maybe I am. And so what if I am? Is it so wrong to admit that in order to be the best mom I can be I need a few childless moments?  As much as I love my children and adore being with them, there are times it becomes exhausting, mentally taxing, even overwhelming, and I need to find a place of solitude to regain focus, re-charge.  Am I weak? Perhaps.  A bad mom? There’s a chance.

But in the midst of my guilt, my doubt, my interrogation, I am reminded that Jesus himself needed a few quiet moments away from it all and on several occasions sought to get away from the crowd and even His own disciples in order to commune with God.  And if God incarnate, the only perfect human ever to step on earth’s soil needed to get away and detoxify from the crowd – the bickering, the needy, the infirmed – in order to better serve them, how much more do I need a break from it all? Sweet, quiet moments in which to set mind right, hear Him speak, and apply His word so I can be better for those I serve – that’s what I crave.

Mark 1:35 – Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.

So maybe others won’t say it or don’t feel it, but I will, I do.  My kids get on my nerves sometimes.  Every once in a while I need some alone time. Occasionally I really do want to go to a deserted island for a few days.  Does that mean I’m bad?  No, it just means I’m human. And God’s grace is big enough to cover my frazzled nerves and frayed emotions. He knows what it’s like to be the parent of stubborn, whining, tattling, attitude-packed, hormonal kids – after all, He’s our Father.

Miscarriage

Like so many other women, I know too well the pain of losing an unborn child.  Whether it’s in the second month or the sixth, the loss is unbearable and the recovery is long.  My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage and although it was extremely difficult for me, it also brought answers.  Doctors discovered my problem wasn’t in getting pregnant, but in staying that way. My body didn’t naturally produce enough of a certain hormone required to sustain the growth and delivery of a baby, and I was told that because of this problem, every pregnancy I had would end in miscarriage if I did not begin taking hormone supplements immediately upon receiving a positive test result.

The next two times I became pregnant, I took the doctors’ advice and began taking the supplements which would create an environment conducive to fostering the healthy growth, development and delivery of the baby; and both times I delivered complete, strong babies – the first time a son, the second time identical twin daughters.  Had I chosen not to listen and keep trying on my own, I would never have been able to carry those babies, much less bring them into the world.

Isn’t it like this in our spiritual lives as well?  So many times we are pregnant with promise, only to have its potential aborted because we didn’t do our part.  Instead of supplementing our lives with prayer and His word, we just keep doing things on our own.  And because we don’t naturally produce faith, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, and all those other fruits, we need an infusion from Him – daily supplements of His grace and ability – in order to foster the growth and delivery of those things He has promised.

I will never birth the full potential He intended unless I create an environment conducive to fostering its growth and delivery.  How many blessings have I miscarried because I didn’t do my part?  It is sometimes difficult and may require a lifestyle change – maybe even a time of spiritual bed rest to get away from the stressors that have a negative impact and put strain on the growing promise – but in the end, isn’t it all worth it?  For to hold His gift, the fulfillment of promise, is infinitely more precious than anything I have let go of.

Choices

It is in those moments, those black, fog-filled days when we feel there are no options and no hope that we have set before us the biggest choice of all: what we will believe.  So many times I have made the wrong pick, electing to wallow in pity, disappointment, sadness, hurt, and unforgiveness when all along there was a much wider selection from which to choose.  I however, only saw the negative because it’s my nature.  I like to call myself a realist, but truthfully, I’m a pessimist to the core.  Always seeing the negative, believing the worst, waiting for the bottom to fall out around me, I have wandered through life listening to the Satan-amplified voices of doubt, fear, and rejection, choosing to believe them over the voice of truth.  I have made the conscious choice to listen to (and believe) the father of lies rather than the One who cannot lie.  How messed up is that?

And then as I sit, quietly listening, not wanting to admit the aforementioned truth although I know it’s what He’s chosen to work on today, I hear Him say, It’s never too late to change. Is it true?  Can this too often depressed pessimist really change her thought patterns?  No, she can’t, but He can.  He can help my unbelief.  As He gently carries me, we float over memories of painful times, and I see choices made, hear voices listened to, and with that vision so clear in front of me I finally understand what an impact they had.  I also realize that in thinking I had no choice, I was making a choice. And even now, right here in the middle of my middle I can choose – and so can you.

We can choose life.  We decide to whom we will listen.  So many times I haven’t measured what I’ve heard or believed about myself in the weight and balance system of His word.  I just believed, not even stopping to think what God might have to say about the matter, not even asking what He thought or reading what He says.  In so many ways I have heard but not truly believed.  The knowledge in my brain was not converted into a belief in my heart. And that gentle voice with no judgment, no shame is heard once again:  It’s not the truth you hear that sets you free, it’s the truth you know – the truth you live.  Hearing is active and involves application. It’s your choice to change the station – your frequency – and listen to the truth.

Bitter

Hot drops gush, pouring down my face as I white-knuckled and for the love of all things holy grip tight.  Holding on while letting go, simultaneously love and hate drizzle from that innermost place. Oozing from unfathomable places, the abysmal wells at my darkest core, muffled shrieks and indistinct groans emanate uncontrollably.  I end up at this place every single time, yet I nonsensically relive the definition of insanity upon each visit.   Somehow expecting a different result, I engage in the same fight with the same enemy using the same weapons while dressed in the same compromised armor in the same gullible mindset, only to find once again that blow after poison-filled blow is stacked high on the other, an impenetrable fortress mocking my attempt.

I struggle for days, weeks, even months to let go of the pain, to make sense of it all.  And during my suffering, agonizing, wallowing, the obtuse betrayer sits in ignorant bliss, having no awareness or remorse for the carnage inflicted upon my very spirit. I agonize in silence over those atrocities, but my face now glowing red, glistening wet tells the story. I’m wearing my hurt like a badge, a bright button highlighting the tender flesh surrounding a heart that’s been pierced by the sharp, prickly pin that holds it in place. 

This is the moment – you have to let go.  But I don’t want to let go.  I’m the victim.  I have a right to be mad.  I haven’t done anything wrong.  No, you’re not to blame, it’s not your fault, but you’re letting it control you.  You’re full of resentment and bitterness.  His words cut to my core, quick, sharp, intense, conviction burning hot, cauterizing torn places, open wounds.  And I know it’s true and I try to hide by attempting to excuse my feelings once again.  And He gracefully listens, understanding the betrayal, the damage, the ache.  But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your heart, do not boast about it and deny the truth.  Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? You can’t choose only the parts of My word that are easy, the ones you want to obey.

It was messy, it was painful, and it was difficult, but I let go.  And in the moment I released that person, those wrongs, God released me.  I am no longer controlled by bitterness - that evasive, invisible master who destroys from the inside out. I no longer condemn, walking aloof as though I am somehow better, all the while allowing the lurking darkness to creep in, consume.  I walk in grace, knowing His love, His power, His forgiveness, knowing He will right all wrongs.  He doesn’t condemn me for the mistakes I’ve made, so how can I, loving Him, calling myself His own, do that to others?  With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness.  Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing.  My brothers and sisters, this should not be.

James 3:9-18 (NIV)

Doors

I’ve heard the cliché so many times –

When God closes one door He opens another,

And I wonder if it’s really true.

My door just closed, I’ve been led to new, but

It’s sealed, impassable, padlocked, too. 

Do I stand here and wait?

Go to lucky number 3, pause there?

Reach out, turn the knob

Or will He do that?

Should I even dare?

Gates to new-found purpose,

Portals to hope identified,

Everywhere I look, barred, secured, shut tight

For me all access denied.

In this great holding room, all doors, no way out

He’s here with me, I know.  

And as we watch others pass from this place to next

Through exits swinging wide,

I remember my faith, His word, our plans

And wait, bated breath, humble heart, certain mind

Hoping that sooner, rather than later,

I’ll hear Him say It’s time.

Seize the Moment

Lately I’ve read and heard so much about people who are doing outreach ministry and/or missions at home and abroad, who are stepping into their callings and making great strides, and who are successfully chasing their dreams.  It has really shaken me.  While I’m so thankful for those who are able to go and bless others in such powerful ways, on a deeper level, it has made me sad.  Sad because I’m not the one who’s going, sad because I’m not the one who’s reaching out there and making a huge impact, sad because I’m not sponsoring a child or donating money to some great cause. I’ve been despondent because like so many others, job loss and the current economic crisis have hit me hard.  I have been depressed by the fact that my heart is bigger than my wallet.  

But this past Sunday morning right in the middle of my pastor’s sermon, God showed up at my pity party.  He didn’t cry with me.  He didn’t feel my pain.  He didn’t allow me to continue in my self-righteous misery.  Instead, He used the discourse to show me I have allowed the focus on my personal financial state to divert my attention from the things I can do.  We have to live forward, he says, we have to seize the now.  We have to make the most of what we have right now because every moment counts.  We can’t be paralyzed, sitting in passive observance waiting for the perfect moment to come, waiting for all things to be right.  We will never have another now and we must seize any opportunity to use what we have at this moment.

What do I have now?  What can I offer?  I’m fresh out of stuff to give at this moment.  How do I stop being jealous of others who are seizing their moments?  Where’s my big moment?  There are no small lives, no insignificant people.  The most important moment you’re in is the one right now – there will never be another now, so stop living by accident and start living with intention.

What do I have?  What could I possibly give?  We’re scraping by.  We’re the ones receiving the school supplies instead of donating them this year – really – You still think there’s something I can do?  Not every problem needs money thrown at it.  Smiles are free.  Your testimony is the most valuable thing you have.  You have the answer to the whole world’s problems living inside you.  You have hope, peace, love and joy that aren’t based on your circumstances.  How about giving those things away?

Being the slow learner I am, it took me until the last round of questioning before I finally figured out that God would have a comeback for every excuse and wasn’t going to let me off the hook.  So, I prayed for forgiveness and purposed in my heart to live intentionally from that moment forward.  No more excuses, no more feeling sorry for my own lack.  This moment will pass.  My drought will be over and another season will come.  He wants my service right now, no matter what my state.  I have to stop looking at what I don’t have and start focusing on what I do possess.

Don’t allow your current situation to limit the impact of your life.

Forgiven

He lived a double life.  His cruel fraud and wide trail of destruction left me to struggle with hot anger, utter betrayal, fierce resentment, and immense pain.  No excuse, no remorse, no forgiveness. He deserved what he had coming. He should suffer for his actions, too.

I don't know why my dad chose the life he did, but I do know that the knowledge of his actions changed  me completely and forever - I no longer trusted people, I questioned every motive, I let my heart grow hard. But God, in His infinite grace, had other plans.  He would use this experience in a way I never expected...

I am honored and blessed to be guest posting at (in)courage today. Join me there to continue reading.

 

Flashbacks

Young, full of energy, hopeful, and blissfully ignorant, I traveled the sidewalks and malls of campus.  The future was a vast expanse that lay open before me, blank canvases waiting for my trailblazing to color them with bright purpose. Except for the fact that ramen noodles were a staple of my diet, the world was perfect. I was clueless, yet full of wisdom. I didn't know what, where, when, or how I'd end up, but I was confident God had my course mapped out and that I could make a difference.

Fast forward 15 years. Three children, nearly 15 years of marriage, miscarriage, job loss, depression, addiction, eating disorder, bankruptcy, failure, unfulfilled dreams, jaded hopes, immeasurable peace, joy, strength and growth later, I sit thinking of those days, that girl. Had she somehow caught a glimpse of the road ahead, I'm certain she wouldn't have believed those events were designed for her - paths hewn between rocks and hard places leading straight into the middle of nowhere, straight to Him. I know for sure she would have said it wasn't worth it, those pains, and that she would have taken every step possible to avoid those ends.

I'm thankful today for hindsight as well as for His  gift of blindness.  For in that great inability to see ahead, God provides opportunity. We are better, wiser, stronger for not knowing the things to come. It is in trudging ever forward, blindly following, fearfully gripping, that we truly see His grace from the other side.

Waiting

I'm in that place
Not so full of grace
Needing my own space
Wanting to see Your face
Disappearing without trace
Back into my fate
This irreversible state
Created the date
I left.

Declaration

Pull

Stretch

Strengthen

Groan

I need to know I'm not alone.

Gain

Lose

Struggle

Win

I’m right back in this place again.

Body

Mind

Spirit

Soul

Transform, renew, undo, make whole.

Bone

Muscle

Heart

Thought

This journey long, from toil white-hot.

Layer on layer

Old pattern over new

Rigid lines, dark temptation

Undermine resolve, chance at life brand new.

But it ain’t over ‘til it’s over

I won’t go down without a fight

I’m gonna keep coming back up swinging

Fists of fury curled tight.

Mantra

May we never forget Who it’s really about.

People are often unreasonable and self-centered.  Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway.

If you are honest, people may cheat you.  Be honest anyway.

If you find happiness, people may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.  Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.  Give your best anyway.

For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.

– Mother Teresa

Acceptance

There is an underlying theme to the lessons God has been teaching me lately, and it has become abundantly clear that He really wants me to work on it.  I face it at nearly every turn.  It is a sensitive issue, one I thought I had fully dealt with and resolved; I am finding however, that it is alive and well, pricking open scabbed wounds causing them to bleed fresh.  

While acceptance is easily achieved in some areas, in others it is a difficult realization that takes nothing other than His grace to attain.  Over time and through much prayer, I have been able to accept my job loss and the new lifestyle (or lack thereof) it afforded; I have been able to accept my value and worth as a person, knowing I am not defined by a title or set of qualifications; I have even acknowledged my personal relationships and the emphasis I have placed on conforming to others’ standards.  God has helped me see life becomes so much easier for us when we accept things for what they really are and deal with them accordingly.

In spite of the amazing grace saturating certain areas of my life, I am still bone dry in another:  self-acceptance.  I recently started going to the gym again after years of neglect.  I’m going to be brutally honest here – the gym scares me to death.  Those of you who know my story will remember my lengthy battle with bulimia and exercise addiction.   I don’t do anything halfway.  I’m all or nothing to a fault.  So you will understand me when I say when I go to the gym, I don’t go to play.

After my recovery, I quit working out, purging, and counting calories.  I no longer stepped on the scale, which was a vicious monster that required check-in at least 10 times a day.  Freedom from those task masters was wonderful, and I was so happy to be liberated from their cycles and thought patterns.  But in this freedom came weight gain, and since I have had a fear of falling back into old habits and patterns, I have not gone to the gym, because even though I no longer act on them or believe the voices, I am the same person, have the same brain, and still very much have those tendencies.

This may sound like a fat girl’s excuse not to work out, but I can assure you fear has gripped me to the core and though I have desired to lose weight and get in shape, I have been so afraid of going back to the place I was once in.  No dress size or social standard is worth the near-death experience I endured and the pain I put my family through. 

I have balance issues, and my feelings of acceptance, I have discovered, are very wrapped up in them.  But, God has allowed me the grace to face my fears this past week.  He is teaching me to regulate myself, to be okay with balance.  I don’t have to be an over achiever.  I don’t have to obsess about calories, and I don’t have to resort to extreme measures.  God loves me the way I am.  He has also used my past experience to remind me that happy doesn’t come in a number, it comes through Him.  He accepts me, and He is patiently, lovingly teaching me to accept myself.