There were some things that I wanted to say in the last post that I didn't get around to. So I'm having another go at this question- Can I be an anxious Christian? But, in this post I'm going to look at anxiety and Christian maturity.
When I think about a mature Christian, I think of someone who has been following Christ and obeying God's Word long enough for the fruits of the Spirit to be evident in his/her life.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23
Mature Christians are people you can count on to respond to life's triggers according to God's Word and with consistent reflection of his character. This is not to say that they are perfect people. But, they are growing people. And they are people who know God and His Word well enough to look more like him than like the rest of the world.
So, can a mature Christian be an anxious Christian?
One of the marks of a mature Christian is that they ought to be able to recognize sin, and want to turn from it. Many people qualify anxiety as a sin, because it implies a lack of trust in God. This is one of the more confusing things about anxiety- people think it is synonymous with worry. If you're anxious, then you must be worrying about something, right? And worry is a sin. So, if you're anxious, you must be sinning.
Not necessarily.
As I said in the first post, the symptoms of General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) can be caused by a variety of triggers. Yes, chronic or acute worry might be one of them. In my case, this did play a role, and I'll touch on that later. But, if you want to know how to love someone with GAD well, don't assume that their symptoms are a consequence of the sin of worry. Their anxiety may or may not have anything to do with worry.
Remember that GAD is basically a prolonged and/or exaggerated expression of the fight or flight response. GAD can be the result of a variety of physiological and/or psychological triggers- exhaustion, stress, poor eating and drinking habits, or a traumatic event. Likely, it's a combination of these factors. Mature Christians are not exempt from any of these triggers, and therefore can easily find themselves trapped in a pattern of GAD.
The last thing that a mature Christian should do is get discouraged by assuming that their experience with anxiety is an expression of their lack of faith. We might think, If I really trusted, loved and belonged to God, I wouldn't feel this way. Or, If I just pray more or get down to the root sin, all of this will go away. I once thought this way but, as time goes on, I've learned to see this experience as a testing of my faith, rather than an expression of not enough faith.
Having said that, I must admit that one of the things that I have recognized and dealt with during this time of testing is unbelief. One of the Bible's key verses on anxiety is 1 Peter 5:7. My mom gave me a print of this verse for Christmas and I love it, but, one of the things I was challenged with early on was the verse that precedes it.
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's might hand, that he may lift you up in due time. 1 Peter 5:6
In my case, one of the factors involved in triggering my GAD was chronic worry over a circumstance in my life that I've struggled with for years. God used what was happening to me physically to spur me to deeply, and I mean really, really deeply examine my heart toward God and every other person involved in this circumstance. Through counsel and confession, I learned that I did not really trust God when he says that he is bringing all things together for my good and his glory. (Romans 8:28) Not only that, but, in my pride, I have been thinking that I could, would and should fix this thing that he has allowed to remain broken. It was really important for me to "humble myself under his mighty hand" and truly, deeply accept his will in this matter.
God is good. Even when a situation doesn't feel good. God is love. Even when I might not particularly feel loved. God is wise. Even when I think my way is better, his is always best. God is just. Even when something feels unfair, only God can see and rightly judge circumstances and people. GOD CAN BE TRUSTED.
After humility, we get to the sweet stuff... Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7
It's not exactly easy to feel cared for when you are face-down every day begging for something to be taken away, and it isn't taken away. I have many friends who find themselves in this place, and on their behalf and mine- I must say, the struggle is so. very. real. This is the testing that produces endurance, character, and eventually deepest hope and joy. But it hurts while it is happening. It feels desperate and terrible. Far from feeling beloved, it feels like being forgotten. Far from feeling cared for, it feels like affliction.
But somehow, through the pain, real hope emerges. My anxiety is not gone, but I feel more together with God than I have in a long time. I don't know what's happening in my life, and my circumstances haven't really changed, but I know His kindness in a deeper way. I trust His goodness with a little more certainty. I am excited about His future and less dependent on the experience of here and now.
All of this depends on accepting the latter part of this verse as the core belief in my life. Because he cares for me. I've started to rebuild the way that I think of myself. At the foundation level is this belief- God cares for me. He takes delight in me. He really, really likes me. And enjoys me. At every stage, every step. Currently, I believe that God has told me that my willingness during this time of testing delights him. It isn't the end product- not the final fruit of a perfectly at peace mind and soul- that delights him (probably because I don't have that yet), but he delights in my willingness to continue on this journey, step by anxious step, looking for him, trying to find out more about him, testing, tasting and seeing him each day.
Does this make me a mature Christian? Well, yes. I believe it does. I believe that mature Christianity can only result from true testing. We can study God's Word (and we should), we can serve in our churches (and we should), we can build beautiful relationships with strong believers, but for our own maturity to really come through- we have to be tested. We have to be tried by fire. We have to let the dross be consumed, the gold refined. That's what anxiety can be for the mature Christian- the blazing furnace of refinement.
Let me be clear. I am not a mature Christian because I am anxious. Neither am I an immature Christian because I am anxious. Anxiety can come about because of many things, but when it does come, there is always the opportunity to respond with an attitude reflective of 1 Peter 5:6-7. Humility. Trust in God's mighty hand. Belief in his love. And a throwing off of any worry that might keep us trapped in GAD. We can step forward, hearts still beating, breaths still coming short, panic attacks still just around the corner, trusting that he will care for us. He loves us. He delights in us. And he is working all of this together for our good.
Friend, if you are reading this and suffering from anxiety, please know that I do not assume that you have a problem with pride or lack of trust. God allows this suffering for reasons that he alone knows. It does not mean that your problems have been the same as mine. It also doesn't mean that anxiety will go away as soon as sin is dealt with. This has not been the case for me. But, what has been the case, is that I'm learning to count the whole thing as joy- even though I would LOVE for my pounding chest to never ache inside me again. I know, that for fruit to come to maturity it takes time. And for trust to be real, it must be tested. So I humble myself, because, in due time, he will lift me up. May he do the same for you.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Can I be an anxious Christian?
My friend Angela sent me this Relevant magazine article this morning, and it resonated with me. It feels similar to the experience I've been having with anxiety disorder. It also sounds similar to some of the encouraging stories that have been shared with me by others who are suffering from anxiety and depression.
I think the central question here is- can you be an anxious Christian? I want to talk a little bit about that question.
I think that any adjective could be inserted in front of the word Christian, and a similar question could be asked. Can I be a depressed Christian? A gay Christian? An angry Christian? A selfish Christian? A prideful Christian? An insecure Christian? An ungrateful Christian?
First, I have to think about the word Christian before I can address any of these other words. What is a Christian? For me, a Christian is anyone who fits this description in Romans 10:9 "If you declare with your mouth "Jesus is Lord" and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved." I think a Christian is a "saved" person- a person who believes that God's grace alone has saved them from the wrath of God. And the Bible is clear that absolutely anyone can qualify for that grace. It has nothing to do with our actions- Romans 4: 5 "To the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness."
So, anyone, and I do mean anyone, can be a Christian. That is not to say that I think that everyone is a Christian. Some people think that everyone is saved. That's an interesting theology, but not one that I personally agree with. If I believe the Bible, and the Bible says that the qualifying acts for salvation are belief in my heart and confession of my lips, then I'm not going to believe that everyone is saved. Not everyone believes in Jesus in their heart. So I don't think everyone is saved. Some people choose to reject Him. Even people who were raised in "Christian" cultures.
But what about all these other words? I can't answer all of those questions, but I can share what I'm learning about being an anxious Christian?
Can I be an anxious Christian? Absolutely. Yes. Being anxious does not make me less of a Christian. It isn't something that I need to be ashamed of. Because it is a part of my Gospel story, and, like Paul, "I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation." (Romans 1: 16)
What is anxiety, anyway? There's a complicated question, and one that I can only answer by sharing from my experience because I am not a doctor, nor have I studied this disorder in great depth. But, for me, anxiety is a collection of nervous symptoms that I have learned are all associated with excess adrenaline and cortisol stress hormones. I've felt a lot of different things in this time that I've had anxiety, but the main ones that I suffer from are- chest pain (yes, I've been fully checked out and my heart is 100% fine), dizziness, invasive thoughts and the sensation of unreality.
When I first began to experience anxiety, people would ask me, "What are you worried about?" Well-meaning friends often ask this question and encourage anxiety sufferers to pray more or seek help from a Christian counselor, which is really good advice, but may or may not be what that person needs. Some people have been praying on their "hands and knees" as the Relevant magazine article clarifies, and some have been in counseling for years. Both of those truths applied to me when I first began to experience anxiety. To me, counseling and prayer are always a good idea, but they might not eliminate nervous suffering.
"What am I worried about?" At first, I had no idea. Because on the surface, I thought things were fine in my life. I wasn't consciously worried about anything. But over these months of nervous suffering, God has let me explore the deepest parts of myself- places where unbelief and unforgiveness and ungratefulness have been flourishing. This has been a hard and humbling journey. And, along the way, as I've uncovered places that needed to be transformed by God's grace, I have been sort of shocked and ashamed. But, I'm choosing to reject the shame. I don't need to be ashamed of something that God says is common of all humanity- I am a sinner. I need God's grace. I need His help. That's part of my belief and confession. It's also a part of my healing. I also don't need to be ashamed of something that glorifies my Savior. And, let me be clear- I do need saving. I do need healing. Every hour, I need Thee.
But anxiety disorder can't just be boiled down to mental stress or unconfessed sin. For some, anxious suffering might not have anything to do with the heart or mind (though, we're integrated beings, so it's hard to separate those things out, but emotional or spiritual issues might not be the primary problems) Most of the time, I see anxiety classified as a mental illness, but the book my doctor recommended to me- Dare, by Barry McDonough- says that's not really the case. The symptoms of anxiety (panic attacks, troubled breathing, insomnia, muscle pain and fatigue, invasive thoughts, unreality, etc.) are actually caused by adrenaline. Essentially, chronic anxiety is a prolonged and habitual fight or flight response. Not many people talk about these physical aspects of anxiety. Usually, people go straight for the mental, emotional or spiritual issues at hand. But, even when those are being dealt with, the physical sensations (which can be frightening and horrifically painful) can remain. In fact, anxiety is often triggered by physical suffering, and I believe this was the case for me. The first panic attack I had was in the hospital after delivering Grey. My body had struggled so much with that delivery, and I was exhausted and in pain. This isn't uncommon. Apparently, many people first experience anxiety and panic attacks after operations or accidents, or when they are chronically exhausted or not eating or drinking well. My anxiety returned at a time when I wasn't sleeping because of Grey's troubled sleep. (In truth, I hadn't slept more than a few consecutive hours in more than a year) When we think about anxious suffering in this light, it seems almost silly to ask the question, "Can I be an anxious Christian?" It would be like asking, "Can I be a Christian with cancer? Or migraines? Or arthritis?"
Of course, anxiety is more nuanced than migraines or arthritis because the mind does play a significant role in the progression of the disorder. What I think about anxiety, and what I think about myself and about God and about other people, will absolutely affect whether or not I heal from this disorder, which is not necessarily the case with those other sicknesses. But, anxiety is definitely a physical problem, and should be treated as such, both by anxious sufferers and those who are close to them.
So, can I be an anxious Christian? Does having anxiety disqualify me in any way from bearing witness to Christ? Or becoming like Him? My take- No. Absolutely not. I'm beginning to see anxiety as one of the cracks in my life through which the Light shines in. Anxiety helped me get at some of the sins beneath my conscious thoughts. Anxiety drives me to God, who heals all my diseases (Psalm 103: 3) And, best of all, anxiety is helping me throw off the need for you (or anyone) to see me in any particular light. I want other people to see me in a good light. I want a good reputation, and to be seen and thought of well. I have held out the cup of approval so many times like little Oliver Twist, "Please, God, can I have some more?" And, I could not get over it when He said, "No." Rather than fill that cup with the elixir of other people's approval, which doesn't actually satisfy my soul, He's allowed it to stay empty. I'm finally learning to put that cup down. And I'm looking for a new one to pick up and bring to Him. There's tremendous freedom in that. Freedom from the anxiety of what other people think about me. Wow. I'm not "there" yet, but I'm journeying on... step by anxious step.
I think the central question here is- can you be an anxious Christian? I want to talk a little bit about that question.
I think that any adjective could be inserted in front of the word Christian, and a similar question could be asked. Can I be a depressed Christian? A gay Christian? An angry Christian? A selfish Christian? A prideful Christian? An insecure Christian? An ungrateful Christian?
First, I have to think about the word Christian before I can address any of these other words. What is a Christian? For me, a Christian is anyone who fits this description in Romans 10:9 "If you declare with your mouth "Jesus is Lord" and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved." I think a Christian is a "saved" person- a person who believes that God's grace alone has saved them from the wrath of God. And the Bible is clear that absolutely anyone can qualify for that grace. It has nothing to do with our actions- Romans 4: 5 "To the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness."
So, anyone, and I do mean anyone, can be a Christian. That is not to say that I think that everyone is a Christian. Some people think that everyone is saved. That's an interesting theology, but not one that I personally agree with. If I believe the Bible, and the Bible says that the qualifying acts for salvation are belief in my heart and confession of my lips, then I'm not going to believe that everyone is saved. Not everyone believes in Jesus in their heart. So I don't think everyone is saved. Some people choose to reject Him. Even people who were raised in "Christian" cultures.
But what about all these other words? I can't answer all of those questions, but I can share what I'm learning about being an anxious Christian?
Can I be an anxious Christian? Absolutely. Yes. Being anxious does not make me less of a Christian. It isn't something that I need to be ashamed of. Because it is a part of my Gospel story, and, like Paul, "I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation." (Romans 1: 16)
What is anxiety, anyway? There's a complicated question, and one that I can only answer by sharing from my experience because I am not a doctor, nor have I studied this disorder in great depth. But, for me, anxiety is a collection of nervous symptoms that I have learned are all associated with excess adrenaline and cortisol stress hormones. I've felt a lot of different things in this time that I've had anxiety, but the main ones that I suffer from are- chest pain (yes, I've been fully checked out and my heart is 100% fine), dizziness, invasive thoughts and the sensation of unreality.
When I first began to experience anxiety, people would ask me, "What are you worried about?" Well-meaning friends often ask this question and encourage anxiety sufferers to pray more or seek help from a Christian counselor, which is really good advice, but may or may not be what that person needs. Some people have been praying on their "hands and knees" as the Relevant magazine article clarifies, and some have been in counseling for years. Both of those truths applied to me when I first began to experience anxiety. To me, counseling and prayer are always a good idea, but they might not eliminate nervous suffering.
"What am I worried about?" At first, I had no idea. Because on the surface, I thought things were fine in my life. I wasn't consciously worried about anything. But over these months of nervous suffering, God has let me explore the deepest parts of myself- places where unbelief and unforgiveness and ungratefulness have been flourishing. This has been a hard and humbling journey. And, along the way, as I've uncovered places that needed to be transformed by God's grace, I have been sort of shocked and ashamed. But, I'm choosing to reject the shame. I don't need to be ashamed of something that God says is common of all humanity- I am a sinner. I need God's grace. I need His help. That's part of my belief and confession. It's also a part of my healing. I also don't need to be ashamed of something that glorifies my Savior. And, let me be clear- I do need saving. I do need healing. Every hour, I need Thee.
But anxiety disorder can't just be boiled down to mental stress or unconfessed sin. For some, anxious suffering might not have anything to do with the heart or mind (though, we're integrated beings, so it's hard to separate those things out, but emotional or spiritual issues might not be the primary problems) Most of the time, I see anxiety classified as a mental illness, but the book my doctor recommended to me- Dare, by Barry McDonough- says that's not really the case. The symptoms of anxiety (panic attacks, troubled breathing, insomnia, muscle pain and fatigue, invasive thoughts, unreality, etc.) are actually caused by adrenaline. Essentially, chronic anxiety is a prolonged and habitual fight or flight response. Not many people talk about these physical aspects of anxiety. Usually, people go straight for the mental, emotional or spiritual issues at hand. But, even when those are being dealt with, the physical sensations (which can be frightening and horrifically painful) can remain. In fact, anxiety is often triggered by physical suffering, and I believe this was the case for me. The first panic attack I had was in the hospital after delivering Grey. My body had struggled so much with that delivery, and I was exhausted and in pain. This isn't uncommon. Apparently, many people first experience anxiety and panic attacks after operations or accidents, or when they are chronically exhausted or not eating or drinking well. My anxiety returned at a time when I wasn't sleeping because of Grey's troubled sleep. (In truth, I hadn't slept more than a few consecutive hours in more than a year) When we think about anxious suffering in this light, it seems almost silly to ask the question, "Can I be an anxious Christian?" It would be like asking, "Can I be a Christian with cancer? Or migraines? Or arthritis?"
Of course, anxiety is more nuanced than migraines or arthritis because the mind does play a significant role in the progression of the disorder. What I think about anxiety, and what I think about myself and about God and about other people, will absolutely affect whether or not I heal from this disorder, which is not necessarily the case with those other sicknesses. But, anxiety is definitely a physical problem, and should be treated as such, both by anxious sufferers and those who are close to them.
So, can I be an anxious Christian? Does having anxiety disqualify me in any way from bearing witness to Christ? Or becoming like Him? My take- No. Absolutely not. I'm beginning to see anxiety as one of the cracks in my life through which the Light shines in. Anxiety helped me get at some of the sins beneath my conscious thoughts. Anxiety drives me to God, who heals all my diseases (Psalm 103: 3) And, best of all, anxiety is helping me throw off the need for you (or anyone) to see me in any particular light. I want other people to see me in a good light. I want a good reputation, and to be seen and thought of well. I have held out the cup of approval so many times like little Oliver Twist, "Please, God, can I have some more?" And, I could not get over it when He said, "No." Rather than fill that cup with the elixir of other people's approval, which doesn't actually satisfy my soul, He's allowed it to stay empty. I'm finally learning to put that cup down. And I'm looking for a new one to pick up and bring to Him. There's tremendous freedom in that. Freedom from the anxiety of what other people think about me. Wow. I'm not "there" yet, but I'm journeying on... step by anxious step.
Friday, December 21, 2018
Have yourself a (Merry) little Christmas
If I'm honest, I have mixed feelings about the Christmas season. There's a lot to love. Time with friends. Family in town. Christmas cards in the mailbox. The smell of Frasier fir, the sound of familiar songs, the anticipation of gift-giving, the joyful cries of my children from the backseat as we drive through streets, normally dark, but, for these few weeks, brightly lit.
But, there's a lot of pressure too. I'd like to be one of those people who just throws off everything and settles into a peaceful, simple expression of wonder. I tried this year. I think I might have done a little "better" than years past. But, honestly, goal not achieved. Maybe one day.
Truthfully, there's a lot of pressure that I feel this time of year- to feel great- happy, joyful, merry. Everywhere you turn, that message is kind of in your face- written on billboards and throw pillows and t-shirts. It's in every song and movie plot. Every magazine cover is artfully, skillfully, painstakingly designed to show a Christmas that is all homemade cookies and glitter and smiles.
Don't get me wrong, I do feel merry, but over the past few days, I've reflected more and more on how merriment, for the sake of merriment, does not last. Heartache doesn't fade away, loneliness doesn't take a holiday, depression and anxiety don't hibernate during December. In fact, for many people, there can be a heightening of these sensations because of that pressure- the cultural and interpersonal pressure to feel good because that's what everything is screaming at you this time of year. You can really start to feel like something is really wrong with you if you are struggling.
Full disclosure- my anxiety symptoms have resurfaced this week. Just after I posted last week about how good I have been feeling. I'm trying not to freak out about it. I've read so much about needing to be patient with myself as I heal. But I do feel disappointed. Just when I was starting to feel so good. But, as I started to feel good, I noticed a change. As the tide of merry-making came in, my deep, personal longing to connect with God went out. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love... to craft my to-do list, to wrap presents, or make a dessert, or try to tame the chaos of my house after my three year old and one year old take a couple of laps around.
Anxiety is a faithful companion in this way- it is faithful to bring me to my prayer journal and Bible, to God, my Refuge. Merriness does not do such a good job of pointing me in this direction.
Magazines and blog posts are filled with helpful tips to make this the best Christmas ever. Here's mine. Stop trying to have a Merry Christmas. Christmas will come, and the best gift that you can give yourself, others and God Himself, is the gift of your honest, focused presence. Maybe you do feel merry. Maybe you don't. Maybe you, like me and others that I hold dear, find yourself feeling sad, lonely, depressed or anxious- this holiday season. That's okay. For this, Christ came.
We sing "All is bright" this time of year. But, we've gotten so focused on how we can make things bright, that we have neglected to meditate on our deep need, our inner longing for true Light. The brightness doesn't come from us, or anything we create. It's given- the original Christmas gift. And, oh, how it shines in hearts that are dark from fear, anxiety, grief, regret. How it's needed in hearts that are longing for relief, change and hope.
You don't have to create or feign merriness to fully receive the gift and true meaning of Christmas. One of the most excellent things I've learned in this season is that I don't have to feel good to fully receive God's blessings with gratitude. I can be grateful while I'm still in pain.
Friends, if you are in pain this holiday season, I pray that it might pass. But I also pray that you and I will only fight the darkness by looking for the Light. Let's not get caught out by trying to manufacture what is artificial. It puts our focus, not on God, but on ourselves, and besides, it only lasts a moment. May the light of Jesus Christ shine brightly in your hearts and homes this Christmas season.
But, there's a lot of pressure too. I'd like to be one of those people who just throws off everything and settles into a peaceful, simple expression of wonder. I tried this year. I think I might have done a little "better" than years past. But, honestly, goal not achieved. Maybe one day.
Truthfully, there's a lot of pressure that I feel this time of year- to feel great- happy, joyful, merry. Everywhere you turn, that message is kind of in your face- written on billboards and throw pillows and t-shirts. It's in every song and movie plot. Every magazine cover is artfully, skillfully, painstakingly designed to show a Christmas that is all homemade cookies and glitter and smiles.
Don't get me wrong, I do feel merry, but over the past few days, I've reflected more and more on how merriment, for the sake of merriment, does not last. Heartache doesn't fade away, loneliness doesn't take a holiday, depression and anxiety don't hibernate during December. In fact, for many people, there can be a heightening of these sensations because of that pressure- the cultural and interpersonal pressure to feel good because that's what everything is screaming at you this time of year. You can really start to feel like something is really wrong with you if you are struggling.
Full disclosure- my anxiety symptoms have resurfaced this week. Just after I posted last week about how good I have been feeling. I'm trying not to freak out about it. I've read so much about needing to be patient with myself as I heal. But I do feel disappointed. Just when I was starting to feel so good. But, as I started to feel good, I noticed a change. As the tide of merry-making came in, my deep, personal longing to connect with God went out. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love... to craft my to-do list, to wrap presents, or make a dessert, or try to tame the chaos of my house after my three year old and one year old take a couple of laps around.
Anxiety is a faithful companion in this way- it is faithful to bring me to my prayer journal and Bible, to God, my Refuge. Merriness does not do such a good job of pointing me in this direction.
Magazines and blog posts are filled with helpful tips to make this the best Christmas ever. Here's mine. Stop trying to have a Merry Christmas. Christmas will come, and the best gift that you can give yourself, others and God Himself, is the gift of your honest, focused presence. Maybe you do feel merry. Maybe you don't. Maybe you, like me and others that I hold dear, find yourself feeling sad, lonely, depressed or anxious- this holiday season. That's okay. For this, Christ came.
We sing "All is bright" this time of year. But, we've gotten so focused on how we can make things bright, that we have neglected to meditate on our deep need, our inner longing for true Light. The brightness doesn't come from us, or anything we create. It's given- the original Christmas gift. And, oh, how it shines in hearts that are dark from fear, anxiety, grief, regret. How it's needed in hearts that are longing for relief, change and hope.
You don't have to create or feign merriness to fully receive the gift and true meaning of Christmas. One of the most excellent things I've learned in this season is that I don't have to feel good to fully receive God's blessings with gratitude. I can be grateful while I'm still in pain.
Friends, if you are in pain this holiday season, I pray that it might pass. But I also pray that you and I will only fight the darkness by looking for the Light. Let's not get caught out by trying to manufacture what is artificial. It puts our focus, not on God, but on ourselves, and besides, it only lasts a moment. May the light of Jesus Christ shine brightly in your hearts and homes this Christmas season.
Friday, December 14, 2018
Seasons
I think it was March of last year that I took on my first garden project. There's a beautiful Japanese maple at the end of our driveway that was surrounded by a hodge-podge of plants (mostly dark green liriope, which I loathe) I resolved to make something useful of the space. After digging up all of the liriope with a shovel, Andy worked with me to turn half the bed into a seating space for our fire pit and red plastic Adirondack chairs. The rest I planted throughout the spring and summer, dabbling with a little of this and that. Learning what plants I liked, and what plants didn't work in the shady space.
I don't think of myself as a gardener. I come from a family with more than a few green thumbs. And when I took a European backpacking adventure with three friends five summers ago, I found myself more enchanted by English roses and Spanish gardens than with architecture or artwork. Still, I've been reluctant to assume the identity of "gardener." Maybe because I have always had so many other things going on, and working in the garden seems like just another thing to try and then fail at.
I can't say that the March 2018 project dramatically changed things for me, but it was a start. And in the months that have followed, the love and desire to be outside in the garden has taken root (pun intended) in a deeper way because God has been using the garden to teach me and heal me.
It's December, and the life-crippling anxiety that settled into my bones in August has left at last, and while I wouldn't say I've been gardening all that time, I think that's exactly what God has been doing in me.
I've been watching this English gardening show a lot lately, and one of the things that I've learned is that the best gardens don't just happen. They're the result of intentional plans, hard work, acceptance and time. As I sit at my kitchen table, looking out my window at the azalea hedge I'm clearing as my newest garden project, I can't help but recognize that the work God has done in my life over the past year involves these same four things.
Religious people see God as useful. Gospel people see God as beautiful.
-Tim Keller
I came across this quote at some point in my months of suffering, and it's been like a North Star. It helped me identify where I have been. I haven't been the Gospel person I thought I was, and maybe have genuinely been at other times in my life. It helped me see that I have spent the most recent years as the religious person looking for God's usefulness. When God failed to be useful in the way I thought He should be, heart-sickness, bitterness and unbelief began to overgrow my heart.
I couldn't see God as beautiful, and I certainly couldn't see that He had a beautiful plan for my heart. This is where the gardening analogy really starts to fit. I'm learning that when I look out on a landscape and see it overgrown and unkempt, it doesn't frustrate or disappoint me the way that it used to. I used to feel really intimidated by all that unruliness. But now, it excites me. Because I've learned that as I plan and diligently work, little by little, with time and acceptance and grace, something good will come. Could this be how God has felt as He has looked into my heart? The bitterness and disappointment, heart break and sin that He has seen haven't intimidated Him. He has a beautiful plan and infinite power, abundant grace and all of the time in the world. All I need to do is cooperate with His plan.
God gave me the fertile soil of anxiety in which to create that cooperation. When physical suffering made it too difficult for me to ignore my great need for God's great work any longer, I settled into months of seeking and receiving His grace- not the "useful" grace that I have yearned for, but the beautiful grace that He so expertly, abundantly and creatively gives.
As I've opened up about this suffering, I've been amazed at how many people have identified with the struggle. There are many of us struggling with anxiety and I'm grateful to get to share what I've learned and the grace I've received. Truth and transparency seem like the right direction, but shame calls out from the darkness and would love to keep us hidden and trapped. I'm not for shame. It's my enemy, so I write this to defy it.
Every day from August until now, God has taken me a step (sometimes even a leap) forward in the process of cultivating a beautiful heart. It started with identifying my need for the Beautiful God, and then developed into a glimmer of belief that He could work in my brokenness (thank you, Ann Voskamp and The Broken Way)
I've learned to risk asking God what He thinks of me (thank you, Kinsey) and then learned to wait an uncomfortable amount of time for an answer.
I've learned to take medicine when my physical suffering from anxiety was so great that it made me want to die (thank you, Jim Rapalje, the PA who pointed me to Isaiah 54: 16 and scripted me the relief that I needed) And then learned to put that very medicine away when God showed me it was time to step forward in a new kind of faith (thank you "Burn the Ships" by For King and Country- seriously, watch this...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOVrOuKVBuY)
I rumbled, and rumbled and rumbled some more with shame (SO MUCH shame) and expectations and loss and forgiveness and boundaries. (Thank you, Brené Brown for teaching me about Rising Strong)
I've learned to be intentional about my yeses and no's because they haven't come as easily as they used to. So those yeses have been whole-hearted. Every Monday morning at BSF leader's training, and every Tuesday morning with my BSF small group has been a most whole-hearted yes because I had no idea if my body would agree with the yes that my mind and heart had already agreed to.
In late October, I broke down in the doctor's office. I had waited three months to sit there and get my blood pressure taken in a triage room covered in Bible verses. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I read printed versions of prayers that had filled my sleepless nights. My doctor gave me his undivided attention, a new prescription, a book recommendation and hope. I learned a LOT about all of the physical things that I had been experiencing from listening to that book. It was a HUGE turning point for me. (Thank you, Dr. Viswanith and Barry McDonough for helping me understand the power of adrenaline and how to accept by practicing the DARE response)
It's mid-December, and I know it might sound cliché, but I'm not sure if I've ever felt better. I'm learning to sleep again. I can eat. I'm still off caffeine and drink very little alcohol. On sunny days, I can't wait to get out into my garden. I'm learning to accept that things take time. I'm learning to have compassion on myself and others. I'm learning to enjoy process, instead of rushing toward some imaginary "product." My heart has never been more at peace. God has truly done a work in me in this season.
I came across this song a few days ago. It's a Christmas song, and it is perfection.
Nothing makes more sense to me than this song. It's the story of this heart and its Beautiful Gardener. All of the weight- the heartache, the disappointment, the physical suffering- it hasn't been lifted, it's been invested, churned deeply into deepest, darkest soil. Sin has been pulled up by its roots, but it's an ongoing process to keep the space clear- a lesson every gardener learns eventually, I guess. And good seeds have been planted. I end this year with this commitment to the God I've once again found to be beautiful, and whose beauty I've found to be sufficient- my "useful" expectations of Him be damned.
You're the God of seasons
I'm just in the winter
If all I know of harvest
Is that it's worth my patience
Then if you're not done working,
God, I'm not done waiting.
p.s. As I've walked through this season of life, I've learned a lot about anxiety. Thank you so much to be MANY friends who have carried this burden for me. I must especially thank my mom for shouldering the tremendous burden of helping me care for my children. And Andy for becoming even more tender-hearted and open to growth. Many friends have reached out with private messages, texts, prayers requests, emails and listening ears. Every single bit of it has been insurmountable grace. Every person's experience with anxiety if different, in both cause and effect. I am grateful for and respectful to those sojourners who have walked these difficult paths alongside me. May your winter bring forth a beautiful harvest.
I don't think of myself as a gardener. I come from a family with more than a few green thumbs. And when I took a European backpacking adventure with three friends five summers ago, I found myself more enchanted by English roses and Spanish gardens than with architecture or artwork. Still, I've been reluctant to assume the identity of "gardener." Maybe because I have always had so many other things going on, and working in the garden seems like just another thing to try and then fail at.
I can't say that the March 2018 project dramatically changed things for me, but it was a start. And in the months that have followed, the love and desire to be outside in the garden has taken root (pun intended) in a deeper way because God has been using the garden to teach me and heal me.
It's December, and the life-crippling anxiety that settled into my bones in August has left at last, and while I wouldn't say I've been gardening all that time, I think that's exactly what God has been doing in me.
I've been watching this English gardening show a lot lately, and one of the things that I've learned is that the best gardens don't just happen. They're the result of intentional plans, hard work, acceptance and time. As I sit at my kitchen table, looking out my window at the azalea hedge I'm clearing as my newest garden project, I can't help but recognize that the work God has done in my life over the past year involves these same four things.
Religious people see God as useful. Gospel people see God as beautiful.
-Tim Keller
I came across this quote at some point in my months of suffering, and it's been like a North Star. It helped me identify where I have been. I haven't been the Gospel person I thought I was, and maybe have genuinely been at other times in my life. It helped me see that I have spent the most recent years as the religious person looking for God's usefulness. When God failed to be useful in the way I thought He should be, heart-sickness, bitterness and unbelief began to overgrow my heart.
I couldn't see God as beautiful, and I certainly couldn't see that He had a beautiful plan for my heart. This is where the gardening analogy really starts to fit. I'm learning that when I look out on a landscape and see it overgrown and unkempt, it doesn't frustrate or disappoint me the way that it used to. I used to feel really intimidated by all that unruliness. But now, it excites me. Because I've learned that as I plan and diligently work, little by little, with time and acceptance and grace, something good will come. Could this be how God has felt as He has looked into my heart? The bitterness and disappointment, heart break and sin that He has seen haven't intimidated Him. He has a beautiful plan and infinite power, abundant grace and all of the time in the world. All I need to do is cooperate with His plan.
God gave me the fertile soil of anxiety in which to create that cooperation. When physical suffering made it too difficult for me to ignore my great need for God's great work any longer, I settled into months of seeking and receiving His grace- not the "useful" grace that I have yearned for, but the beautiful grace that He so expertly, abundantly and creatively gives.
As I've opened up about this suffering, I've been amazed at how many people have identified with the struggle. There are many of us struggling with anxiety and I'm grateful to get to share what I've learned and the grace I've received. Truth and transparency seem like the right direction, but shame calls out from the darkness and would love to keep us hidden and trapped. I'm not for shame. It's my enemy, so I write this to defy it.
Every day from August until now, God has taken me a step (sometimes even a leap) forward in the process of cultivating a beautiful heart. It started with identifying my need for the Beautiful God, and then developed into a glimmer of belief that He could work in my brokenness (thank you, Ann Voskamp and The Broken Way)
I've learned to risk asking God what He thinks of me (thank you, Kinsey) and then learned to wait an uncomfortable amount of time for an answer.
I've learned to take medicine when my physical suffering from anxiety was so great that it made me want to die (thank you, Jim Rapalje, the PA who pointed me to Isaiah 54: 16 and scripted me the relief that I needed) And then learned to put that very medicine away when God showed me it was time to step forward in a new kind of faith (thank you "Burn the Ships" by For King and Country- seriously, watch this...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOVrOuKVBuY)
I rumbled, and rumbled and rumbled some more with shame (SO MUCH shame) and expectations and loss and forgiveness and boundaries. (Thank you, Brené Brown for teaching me about Rising Strong)
I've learned to be intentional about my yeses and no's because they haven't come as easily as they used to. So those yeses have been whole-hearted. Every Monday morning at BSF leader's training, and every Tuesday morning with my BSF small group has been a most whole-hearted yes because I had no idea if my body would agree with the yes that my mind and heart had already agreed to.
In late October, I broke down in the doctor's office. I had waited three months to sit there and get my blood pressure taken in a triage room covered in Bible verses. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I read printed versions of prayers that had filled my sleepless nights. My doctor gave me his undivided attention, a new prescription, a book recommendation and hope. I learned a LOT about all of the physical things that I had been experiencing from listening to that book. It was a HUGE turning point for me. (Thank you, Dr. Viswanith and Barry McDonough for helping me understand the power of adrenaline and how to accept by practicing the DARE response)
It's mid-December, and I know it might sound cliché, but I'm not sure if I've ever felt better. I'm learning to sleep again. I can eat. I'm still off caffeine and drink very little alcohol. On sunny days, I can't wait to get out into my garden. I'm learning to accept that things take time. I'm learning to have compassion on myself and others. I'm learning to enjoy process, instead of rushing toward some imaginary "product." My heart has never been more at peace. God has truly done a work in me in this season.
I came across this song a few days ago. It's a Christmas song, and it is perfection.
Nothing makes more sense to me than this song. It's the story of this heart and its Beautiful Gardener. All of the weight- the heartache, the disappointment, the physical suffering- it hasn't been lifted, it's been invested, churned deeply into deepest, darkest soil. Sin has been pulled up by its roots, but it's an ongoing process to keep the space clear- a lesson every gardener learns eventually, I guess. And good seeds have been planted. I end this year with this commitment to the God I've once again found to be beautiful, and whose beauty I've found to be sufficient- my "useful" expectations of Him be damned.
You're the God of seasons
I'm just in the winter
If all I know of harvest
Is that it's worth my patience
Then if you're not done working,
God, I'm not done waiting.
p.s. As I've walked through this season of life, I've learned a lot about anxiety. Thank you so much to be MANY friends who have carried this burden for me. I must especially thank my mom for shouldering the tremendous burden of helping me care for my children. And Andy for becoming even more tender-hearted and open to growth. Many friends have reached out with private messages, texts, prayers requests, emails and listening ears. Every single bit of it has been insurmountable grace. Every person's experience with anxiety if different, in both cause and effect. I am grateful for and respectful to those sojourners who have walked these difficult paths alongside me. May your winter bring forth a beautiful harvest.
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