So there’s a lot going on in the world today that I’d like to, but can’t (and really shouldn’t) ignore. I don’t even want to start the laundry list of upset, because I’ll inevitably forget or neglect something or go sideways with it.
As things of late have been happening, I’m understanding more and more there’s a before, during, and after. For everything. Except God. He’s just an all-inclusive is.
My faith has been challenged recently. It’s been uplifted, spun around, trampled on, revived, amplified, and abused. And I’m the prime culprit.
Yet it holds. In the dark thoughts, in the silent screams, in the moments of “I don’t know what comes next!”, it says, “Hold on.” It says, “Things are gonna get better.”
It says, “Trust me.”
It proves itself to me time and again, when it shifts from thought to reality.
It is strong. It is the dynamic of what is and what will be. Did you catch that? What is and what will be. Imperatives. Not suggestions. Not ideas. But absolute, positive, imperative.
Faith is not a question.
Faith says, “I will do this.” “I will be that.” And then it hangs around and waits until it happens.
Faith isn’t a wish with fairy dust.
I purchased my new Bible two weeks ago tonight. It was a bonus purchase when Faith brought my community together in such an immediate response that I was enabled to purchase Raven, my new laptop and needed accessories. That was a journey of faith, let me tell you.
Faith Is . . . My Writing Desk
And I was blessed with far more than just the essentials. A new desk, swivel chair, better lighting. And yes, an adult coloring book. All things a creative person needs to exceed.
Naomi told me of a friend of hers who teaches creative Bible journaling; that is, using scrapbooking/artistry to delve deeper. I told her I wasn’t sure I could do that to a Bible. But then I thought, I’m a creative. I’m not sure I couldn’t do that to a Bible. Especially a Bible designed with a creative reader in mind. If it causes me to connect with God and my world in a better way, how could I not explore the option?
But of course, it’s a new Bible. It’s pretty. It smells like a book should smell. The pages are smooth and the words are crisp.
And I’m human.
I’m gonna mess this up.
So, for the last two weeks, I kept the Bible where it doesn’t belong. In its box. On the desk. Untouched. Unopened. Like a precious gem.
But here’s the thing about Bibles. The more they’re used, the more they’re worn, and marked and highlighted and underlined and notated . . . That’s when they’re priceless.
I have several Bible verses that I hold to consistently. Lately, another has been creeping into the forefront of my spirit, begging me to grasp it, to understand it.
And as God will often do, He confirmed this understanding by having it presented to me in several different ways. Through conversations. A Facebook meme. Dreams. Song lyrics.
So tonight, I opened my gem to find the Gem.
“Faith shows the reality of what we hope for;
it is the evidence of things we cannot see.” [Hebrews 11:1, NLT].
God’s been impressing upon me lately the value and the promise of Faith. How, without Faith, nothing would be accomplished.
You bake because you have Faith the cookies won’t burn down the house.
You drive with Faith that the brakes will work when they need to, and that you will reach your destination.
You love in Faith that it will be returned to you.
Now, these are human examples and at times, subject to fail. But overall, you see it, don’t you?
Faith is the tangible realization of what we keep in our hearts.
But wait ~ there’s more!
Faith is the driving force behind our success and excess. Faith is what moves mountains out of our way, and moves us over the muddy pits.
Faith is what gets us from Point A to Point B. We can’t be swayed from it. We know deep in our gut that this is who we are, what we are destined to be. The path may [will] turn, in parts be grown over and hard to follow, but it is still the path we’re meant to be on.
Faith says so. Faith says, “Don’t give up, honey.” It says, “We got this.”
Faith says, “Lean on me.”
When things seem dark and chaotic and noisy and unclear, Faith is the flashlight. It is what motivates all heroes to fight against the dark, to stand and run when others fall.
Last night I was holding on so tight, begging for resolution that didn’t come.
I asked Him, “Why?”
He pried my hands lose so He could hold them.
He said, “Stop limiting me.”
I said, “Why aren’t you fixing this? I mean, I’m trying to trust you and all, but why aren’t you fixing this?”
He said, “Who says I’m not?”
I stomped. I pointed. I whined.
I said, “Because it’s not fixed! I can see it’s not fixed. How am I supposed to trust you when you’re not fixing what you said you’d fix?”
He said, again, “Who said I’m not?”
I turned my back and hummphed at Him.
I said, “Because it’s not fixed.”
He said, “What does ‘fixed’ look like to you?”
So I told Him.
Then He said, “That’s different than what it looks like to Me.”
I said, “Yeah. Your ‘fix’ isn’t the same. So it’s not fixed!”
He said, “So you have a problem.”
I said, “Yes, I do.”
Then He asked, “And you also have the solution?”
I said, “Of course not. That’s why I’m coming to you.”
He said, “So you have a problem. And you don’t have a solution. but you ‘know’ my solution isn’t working because you can’t see the ‘fix’. Is that it?”
I got angry. “Yes! That’s it!”
He said, “So you know what ‘fixed’ looks like. And you’ve been asking me to ‘fix’ this problem according to your vision.”
I said, “Yup. That’s right. So here’s my problem. Fix it. Fix it this way.”
And He said, “I’ve been trying to fix it. But you’re asking for the wrong solution.”
I said, “I’m confused.”
And I’m pretty sure He laughed. Gently, but He laughed.
“I know,” He said. “You have a problem, and you think you also have the solution. But you can’t have both. One precludes the other.”
Of course, I wanted to be snippy and say, “Oh, God. You just think you know everything don’t you?”
But of course, He does.
And I don’t.
So I stepped back.
And He was right.
My prayers aren’t answered because they’re the wrong prayers. They’re not answered, because I’m not giving Him the chance.
If I have the solution, I no longer have the problem. If I have the problem, obviously my solution doesn’t work.
I have to take myself out of the Solution Box.
And a funny thing happens when I do.
It gives God room to fill it.
HIS way.
And let’s face it.
Dad’s way is best.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
“As you do not know the path of the wind, or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the work of God, the Maker of all things.” (Ecclesiastes 11:5)
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:19)
“But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8)
For Nathan and Pam and Naomi and Lori and Cindy and all my Marys and Beckies and everyone I’ve been talking to. I hope you know how each of you has helped me. I hope I’ve been able to return that help.
God – December 8, 2014
A few days ago, I posted a lengthy status on my personal Facebook page. Since then, people have commented, sent messages, and shared.
It’s no secret where I stand in my faith. I’m not a Bible thumper. I’m not perfect. In fact, I revel in my imperfectness. I’m just glad there’s a God who loves me the way I am, and who continues to help me be a better person for the world around me.
“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
~2 Corinthians 12:7b-9, NIV
Let’s face it. Life is hard. It’s hard when you know God. It’s hard when you don’t know God. This post isn’t about God. It’s about Christians and the disservice we do to one another in our own community by expecting only the Pretties to be seen, by submerging the imperfections, the thorns, the scars.
If we as Christians portray only a perfect example of God, how can draw people closer to Him? If we tell seekers “It’s okay that you’re broken” then why do we expect completeness of ourselves?
The Christian Community can send out false messages. Not intentionally, mind you. I believe our desire is to attract others to Christ, and we feel we can’t do that if we’re shattered or chipped.
I disagree.
We are all damaged. One way or another, we are all broken.
I’m okay with that.
“Stop forcing a catastrophe where there’s not even a storm.”
Because God is the True Healer. He can, has, and will continue to heal my brokenness whether it is caused by others or myself. Whether my brokenness is physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, financial, or any-other-al, He continues to seek me out and heal me.
The healing may not come in the way I want, or as fast as I think I need. But His timing is perfect. And I’m okay with waiting on Him.
Cuz Father knows best.
The following is the Facebook post from a few days ago. I hope it starts a dialogue of honesty and openness. I hope everyone has a friend who accepts them unconditionally. And if you want to know more about my God, I hope you ask.
Please read, comment, share. And watch the video at the end.
Life is hard. But God is always good.
I promise.
You Matter.
~#~
June 7, 2015
So an interesting thing happened. Late last night I posted a status (now removed) of how it’s okay that I’m angry with God. I received some comments and messages that others are praying for me, that others understand, and a few that cautioned me about being so public about it.
Here’s the thing, and I’m not upset, just puzzled . . . but here’s the thing.
Not one person asked WHY. Not one person asked, “How can I help?”
And it saddens me. Not because I need attention (although we all do, right?). Not because I feel alone (I mostly don’t). But because the impression or attitude seems to imply that as a Christian I’m not allowed to have bad days, that I should share only joy and keep the rest to myself.
And it makes me wonder, if the people I know are Christian (myself included), if we are sending out these vibes that it’s not okay to be NOT okay, how are we being authentic? How are we letting others know we’re there for them?
Do we as Christians stifle the outreach and community of those who need us? Is it possible by saying “This isn’t the time or place” that what they hear is “You’re not worth my time or energy”?
I have a lot going on. So do you. So does everyone. I don’t air my “dirty laundry” for everyone. In fact, there is not one single person who knows everything. There are some who know most, some who get headlines without details, and some who get only one story or prayer request instead of the whole basket.
I’m not advocating spilling your entire life on Facebook or other public forum. I’m not agreeing with those people who are “virtue suckers” and complain just to get attention.
But do the people who need us know we’re here for them? Do they really know?
Or have we made it too hard for them to reach out? Have we made them fearful that we won’t reach back?
Or worse, do we assume because we already know them that we know what the current moment is about? Do we pray for them, consider them, reach out to them based on past experiences?
Or do we say “I’m still praying . . .” for whatever issue WE think needs prayer.
When was the last time you came up to a friend and said, “Tell me what’s really going on.”? And didn’t fill your head with presumptions of who you think they are and what you think they’re going through?
So many of us are really going through our own hell on earth, yet we’re expected to live daily as if we’re not. So many of us are so skewed by our own hells that we can’t see someone else’s is different. We can’t see that we’re sometimes hurting instead of helping.
So I apologize, here, publicly, to all my family and friends. I’m sorry that I’ve not reached out to see where you’re at or how I can help you. I’m sorry that I put myself first — my own thoughts and ideas of how life should be, of how you’re doing it wrong, of how you’re not there for me. I’m sorry for not being there for you in the capacity I should be.
I’m sorry.
But hear this: You’re important to me. In many different ways.
Our lives are silk webs that criss-cross and intertwine and pull others into and out of the design and I want to strengthen your thread.
I want to be here for you.
I’ve ignored you, I’m sorry. I’ve made you feel less important, I’m sorry. I’ve made my own hells more important than yours, and that is farce. Everyone’s hell is important. Everyone needs a helping hand to get out and rise above the crud that tries to buries us.
This is me. Being as authentic as I’m allowed to be.
I let you down, and I’m sorry.
I’m here for you now. All of you.
All I’m asking is that you be here for me, too.
And the rest of your people.
Make sure they know.
Children have selective hearing that picks up words like “ice cream” and ignores others like “chores”. When a friend asks, “How are you?”, they’re already hoping you’re going to ask them the same question. Our lifestyles are wired to be self-fulfilling, and serving others is a secondary agenda.
But what if what you have to say is important? So important, it could be a life changer? And what do you do if your audience refuses to listen?
Is Thing Thing On?
In the last few years, I’ve changed jobs, quit a relationship, and forayed into more writing, media, and public speaking.
With each new experience, I’ve tried to still the waters behind me. I had a burning desire to explain myself, to be heard.
It’s not you, it’s me.
But the truth is, it was them, too. And I don’t owe them an explanation.
I was called to move on, not to stand still.
I’m not advocating telling your boss off or always needing to be the center of attention. But you have a message to say, and if others aren’t listening or respecting you, it’s okay to move on and find your audience.
Is there anyone out there?
In fact, God instructs us to leave the past in the past.
“If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet.” ~Matthew 10:14, NIV
When God says “GO”, are you going? Or are you slowly dragging your feet, hoping He meant “later”? Hoping He meant “together”?
We all need to support our families. We all have a need to be loved. We all need to be heard.
It’s hard to make changes and keep going. It can be super scary to climb those steps when you don’t know what’s at the top.
Those Daunting Steps
But there are some situations when we need to take that leap of faith and trust that God knows more about our path than we do.
Stopping in hope someone else understands, trying to reason with people who choose not to hear, is telling God that while He may have a decent plan, it just doesn’t work.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to ever be the one to tell God His plan won’t work.
Think on this: If you’re sharing your message but not being heard, it’s not you, it’s them.
Here’s another: If you’re compromising your message to stay where you’re at, it’s not them, it’s you.
Are you listening? Don’t drag them with you. Leave the unlisteners where they are. It’s okay to move on without them. God will lead you to where He needs you to be.
It’s hard, to be sure. Especially if you’re a people-person.
But it’s the right thing to do.
Your audience is everyone you come into contact with. Not just daily, but even those once-in-a-while folks you might not otherwise think of.
Coworkers
Friends
Neighbors
People at church and community functions
When you run errands to the store or gas station
Strangers on the phone or in the next car
Are you sharing your message? Are you actively seeking out your audience? If you’re doing your part but those doors keep closing on you, it’s time to find a new audience.
Do whatever it takes to live the message God has called you to live and to take care of the family He’s given you.
Pray for divine appointments
for Him to bring people you can encourage,
and for those who can encourage you.
A Pastor at my church used to tell everyone, “We’re all in this together.” And he was right. This life isn’t just about me, or you, or us, or them. It’s about us all.
We’re all in this together – Are you doing your share?
And it’s okay to venture out into the big, scary world when God tells you. Just don’t look back. Shake off the unbelievers and follow Him around the bend. You may not know what’s ahead, but He does. And He’s really glad you’re coming with Him.
Remember this: God never calls the equipped. He equips the called.
If He’s asking you to say-do-share something,
He’s going to give you the means to do it.
Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
~Exodus 14:13-14 (NIV)
I suffer from depression. This isn’t something I used to talk about. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, because I’m still here. But it’s definitely something misunderstood. And most people are afraid and embarrassed about it, whether it’s happened to them or someone they love.
I’m still here. Which means I’m strong enough to get through that one-more-moment that I needed to get through. But what about the next time? Will I be strong enough then?
Being strong hurts. It hurts not having someone else to lean on, to help pick up the pieces of a fractured heart, or scream happiness with. It hurts to be the one, and not have the one.
Do you ever think about the percentage of creative people who deal with depression and other “disorders”? I believe it’s because we feel things much deeper than average people. Artists of any media are particularly susceptible to opening ourselves up to a life that wounds us to the core. Feeling terrible is better than not feeling at all, and feeling it at such a depth makes the creativity that much more powerful.
When I’m affected by the chasms and peaks of life, I see it more broadly than I can express, except through emotion. I find beauty in hurts and puzzles in rays of sunshine.
I feel more deeply and am more confused by the beauties of this life than I can ever begin to explain. I don’t search for the darkness, but neither am I always afraid of it.
I’ve struggled through some horrendous moments and I’m lucky to be alive. I don’t share the details of my story with a lot of people, because I never know how they’ll react.
There’s a certain vulnerability with letting someone have the keys to your destruction, and trusting them enough to not use it against you.
That’s not my saying. I stole that gem of wisdom from my writing mentor.
In the context of a good book, the characters need to be flawed and need to struggle with each other. In the context of life, it’s a lot more complicated, and a lot more unsettling, and doesn’t always wrap up neatly.
Mostly, life is good and I’m okay. But now and then, something, or a collection of somethings, will trigger that stress in me and try as I might, I can’t always “put on a happy face”.
Depression has its own set of rules that unless you’ve been there, you can’t possibly navigate. Well-meaning people have tried to control or change me. They don’t realize it’s not as simple as that.
I’m not discounting the benefits of avoiding triggers and trying to make things better. But depression is an internal event.
Here are just a few gems from people who haven’t been there:
“If you just stopped thinking about it, you’d be happier.”
“Get some rest. Things will be better in the morning.”
“Have you tried vitamins?”
“Doctors don’t know everything. You should see someone else.”
“Medications only make it worse.”
“You need a change of scenery. Why don’t you get out for the day or take a weekend vacation?”
And what I find to be the most hurtful: “You just don’t have enough faith.”
There’s also the struggle to identify a cause. Many times, my depression is provoked by something nameless. It’s a constant presence, in the shadowy corners, just waiting to be recognized. It’s its own thing, caused by nothing and solved by nothing else.
The best a person with depression can sometimes hope for is just to breathe through the moment.
I say again, I’m lucky. Through years of hard work, self observance, and a decent group of friends to support me, I’ve learned to identify my triggers and my solutions.
I’ve learned to monitor my body. If I’m not eating healthy enough or sleeping enough, that can make my thoughts a little less clear. Which makes it hard to filter out the negative thoughts.
I know the difference between having a glass of wine with dinner, and going out to a bar so I don’t have to stay home alone. Self-medicating isn’t just about medicines. It can also be food, TV, thought patterns . . . whatever a person uses to feel better.
I’ve learned that the most important thing I can do is reach out. It’s also the hardest. My depression embarrasses me. I’m a typically joyful, outgoing person. I love nothing more than to be surrounded by people whether it’s church, fellow writers, or even my favorite clients from the day job.
I also don’t like to bring other people down. I don’t want to explain myself or disappoint my friends. I don’t want to hear someone’s outside opinion of what I’m doing wrong. So I keep to myself. Or I hide it behind the fake smiles and the hugs and the I’m-Doing-Fine’s.
And I keep hiding. Until it’s bigger than I can handle. Until something’s gotta give.
“Stop forcing a catastrophe where there’s not even a storm.”
I’m lucky to have friends who have known me long enough to realize my triggers before I sometimes do. Friends who can talk me down from the ledge when I didn’t know I’d even stepped out. And I’m lucky those friends were there for me this weekend.
I wasn’t in physical danger, but I was certainly not in a good place. What I thought was just fatigue and anxiety had combined with, as they pointed out, the exorbitant amount of stress from the last few months until I stopped fighting the triggers. I began barking at people with an unfiltered vocabulary. I broke promises. I was ready to fight almost everyone in my path. And I didn’t care.
Depression can garble thoughts. What I think is right in the moment, isn’t. Who I think is against me, isn’t. But I can’t recognize what’s right, or I don’t want to admit the embarrassment of misunderstanding. Even if it’s fleeting. Even if it’s undeserved. Apologizing for being irrational is a painful and humiliating experience. So I don’t.
I just can’t seem to get this life-thing right. So the depression grows. And I keep it to myself.
My depression comes with its own trust issues. It’s hard to know who to talk to, who to tell what to, and who to listen to. Do they really understand me? Do they have my best interests at heart? Or do they want to “help” me to feel superior about themselves? They’ve not been here, they’ve not had these thoughts. How can they possibly understand.
I tried to read my Bible for that whisper of hope and direction. I just heard the words “Be still.” Which I couldn’t do. I mean, I’m depressed, right? Which means I’m anxious. My legs are bouncing while I’m sitting. Or I’m up, pacing the floor. Or sitting on the bench practicing my steady breathing and hoping not to hyperventilate.
If one more person asks how I’m doing then keeps walking instead of waiting for a real answer, I’m gonna lose it.
I didn’t want to lose it. I had to find a way to fight this. I had to find a way to get back to being me. But I’m afraid to talk to anyone because this is different than who I was ten or twenty years ago. They won’t see that. They’ll just see this and think same ol’ same ol’.
And then I found it. Exodus 14:13-14. Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
Just as God led Moses to the Red Sea, He led me to my shore. He parted the stormy waters so that whatever was threatening them in their future vanished, and He promised that what was troubling them in their past would remain in their past. He didn’t promise them a perfect tomorrow. He just promised them a way out for now.
Stop. Take a breath. You asked for my help, and I’m here. Now. In this moment.
And in that moment, with my trusted friends, I was able to securely reach out and know, it’s gonna be okay. They’re not judging me based on past moments. They’re not judging me at all.
They’re just reaching back.
December 8, 2014
My depression is something I will always have to live with. Most of the times, it’s dormant, hidden, controlled. When it isn’t, I have to learn it’s okay to stop fighting myself and others. I don’t always have to keep this a secret.
And I don’t have to be ashamed.
This weekend I realized I have too much to say. I’ve been quiet for too long. It’s time to be authentic and reach out, so others can reach back.
Tonight I feel just a little less lonely. And I think I’m gonna sleep better than I have for a while.
