Fearless

Day 92.

How do I become fearless? In a world where everything is mixed-up, uncertain, and upside down, how does one come to a place of perfect peace? Even the peace that passes all understanding? I once knew someone who claimed to be completely fearless. He wanted to jump out of planes, drive fast, climb mountains. He said the only thing he feared was going back into the sins God had saved him from, and to that end, his relationship with Christ was the most important thing in his life.

I’m not interested in jumping out of planes, or ever coming to a place where I would want to, but I would like to be confident that God’s plans for my future are good. No, not just good, the best possible outcome for my life. The Bible says, “he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” He will be faithful to complete that which He started. And yet, I find myself worrying about what happens next. What does my future look like? Where will God take me? How can I know His will, His path? My 28^th birthday is already in my past, and I’m antsy for God’s ultimate plan to unfold in front of me.

People continue to encourage me that things are going to be amazing on the other side of this, I’ll admit, around 4am when I’m up in the middle of the night, desperate for sleep, I have my doubts. But this is when I have to pull out my proverbial check list of answered prayers.

God really has done amazing things in my life. He has proved Himself faithful again and again. I can’t even count all the blessings, even miracles that He has brought into my life. There’s a song called “Let the Waters Rise” by Mikeschair and I love the lyric that says, “God, You know where I've been, You were there with me then, You were faithful before, You'll be faithful again.” That’s why I have to trust Him. I can’t be afraid of what’s coming because ultimately, He will always be faithful.

There’s still so much to sift through, so much to yet endure before the clouds roll away and allow the sun to shine. I’m trying to be brave, to have courage in the face of what I’m most scared of. This is where I lean on Him. This is when He will prove Himself.

Keys

Keys. By definition: something that affords a means of access; something that secures or controls entrance to a place. 

Every now and then, on this journey, someone hands me a key. I never know where the key will come from; I usually don’t seek it out. And most of the time, I don’t even know I should be looking for one. Allow me to mix my metaphors. It’s as if I started out in complete and total darkness, and each time I open a new door, there is a very little bit of light, like dawn easing in over the horizon, almost imperceptible. Because the little bit of light is such an improvement over absolute darkness, I have no frame of reference for greater light still. There is a sense that I’ve opened all possible doors and now it’s just a matter of walking forward, but I’ve thought that before, only to be handed another key and in an instant, be walking in more light.

Keys are of great importance in the Bible. Isaiah says, “And the key of the house of David will I lay upon his shoulder; so he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open.” Then, this prophecy is stated again in Revelation, “he that is holy, he that is true, he that hath the key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth; I know thy works: behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it: for thou hast a little strength, and hast kept my word, and hast not denied my name.” Christ proclaims, “I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death.” And, “And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” Yes, the right key can make all the difference.

Truly in my life, especially in the last few months, the right keys have been invaluable. Doors that have been locked for years, bolted shut, are suddenly open, casting new light on the path I must walk. With each open door, the path becomes more difficult. But now I can see some of the obstacles.

I know I'm being vague, all this talk of keys and paths and dawning light. There are things better left unsaid for now. But, in God's timing, when the last door is thrown open and I am greeted by the brilliant light of the sun at it's highest point, I will testify to the glory of God of the darkest moments I've ever known. I will have the keys of the kingdom of heaven, just as Jesus promised. So by faith, I move forward today.

He Leadeth Me

Day 82.

I will admit, these past few days have been some of the hardest yet. I have found myself completely consumed with the most unsettling emotion of all: Apathy. I’m sure you’ve all noticed my absence in the blogging world, and from past experience you know my silence speaks volumes. A wave of hopelessness swept over my soul in light of certain events at the beginning of this week. All of my motivation to move forward escaped me like a mournful sigh, and the urge to lay down and quit trumped all other thoughts and feelings. Like a zombie, I shuffled through the dark days and found little relief in the night. I thought I was encountering the new “normal.” And I couldn't see past my own dismal perception. Yes, it was a most difficult week.

It is in times of reflection, such as this, I am aghast at my lack of spiritual maturity. My faith is so small. My trust is so fleeting. My confidence is nonexistent. I can speak the words to others in difficult situations, but when the tables are turned, I cannot accept the words myself. Truly, as the hymn implies, I am a wretch saved only by grace so amazing. My shortcomings as a follower of Christ are innumerable, and while I should have enough confidence to simply trust and obey, I begin to question and second-guess everything. Just when I think I have “arrived” in this faith walk, I am challenged again, and again I see that I have a long way to go.

But then I am comforted by the knowledge that God knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. God does not expect me to be God. He expects me to be human. Which is good, because He made me a human and there's not a thing I can do about it. After all, no matter how hard I think about it, I can't even add one cubit unto my stature. No, I have to let God be God and I have to let myself be a human being. That means that I cannot know everything there is to know, and so I should probably stop stressing out about it. My Heavenly Father knows what I need, He will give me as much light as I need to walk and my only obligation is to move forward in all the light I'm given.

So even though I have so very much to learn (and that's so humbling), I can be excited about the fact that I AM learning. God hasn't given up on me, so I can't give up on me either. Even when I don't feel like it, I must put one foot in front of the other. I can't see where I'm going yet, but I know I'm being led by the Master. Yes, it was a hard week, but my spirit is rallying and my commitment to God has never been stronger. As Joseph H. Gilmore so beautifully wrote, “He leadeth me, He leadeth me, by His own hand He leadeth me; His faithful follower I would be, for by His hand he leadeth me.” This is all I need to know as I travel that path He has planned for me.

Oh For Grace to Trust Him More

Day 76.

It is my human-ness that desires a clear understanding of everything I go through. I need to grasp the “why” behind the suffering. I need to lay my hands on the tangible. And yet, it is that very human-ness that limits me.

I can't fully explain what all has taken place over the course of these past months. I do not have a big-picture perspective yet. I cannot see the world through God's eyes. I cannot see myself and my circumstances objectively. But I do know that something God-ordained passed through His loving fingers and came swiftly and undeniably on my life. It moved in like a plague of locusts, taking everything I had to give. And I, a servant of the living God, can only hold my hands up in surrender.

This past weekend, I encountered an eye in this storm. It was a precious and sacred moment when I knew God was speaking to my heart. I had been agonizing over something I needed to do to bring me a sense of closure in all the turmoil. But I struggled. I knew what must be done, but I so badly wanted to make the right decision. Hours in the darkness I tossed and turned, moving from my bed to my couch, desperate for rest. God was asking me to do something for myself that I felt I wasn't strong enough to do. I was fearful. I wanted someone else to do it. I felt like they had the authority to do it, and I knew they would buffer the pain, if there must be pain involved. Somewhere in the morning, I felt a sense of clarity in my prayers. “God,” I said, “if I do it myself, I have no authority and I have no buffer.” To which God replied, “I AM your authority and I will be your buffer.” Before that moment, I didn't know if I would recognize God's voice if I ever heard it again. I thought maybe I would always second-guess, always wonder. But God has a way of making Himself known.

Though God spoke when I needed to hear Him so desperately, He did not take the pain away. He did not change my circumstances to suit my tastes. He did not wave His hand and fix all that was broken. He did not restore that which the locusts had eaten. He spoke. And in an act of trust and obedience, I listened. In faith, I did what I knew I was being asked to do. Truly God was all the authority I needed. And though pain has come from my actions, it was accompanied with a sense of His peace, a buffer from the worst of it.

No, I do not have a clear understanding or an earthly explanation, but I do know that as for God, His way is perfect. So says the psalmist, and so I believe. In His time, God will take the pain away, change my circumstances, fix that which is broken, and restore the years that the locusts have eaten. I must trust Him. That is what I must learn through it all. I must trust Him.

Amazing Grace

For several months, I have written a short article for my company’s eNewsletter that goes out about three times a month.  These are usually articles about money management and mismanagement.  But every now and then, I write something that hits a little closer to the heart.  The following article appeared in our July 22^nd, 2011 eNewsletter.  I think you’ll appreciate why I felt I should post it here.

Amazing Grace  (As published July 22^nd, 2011 in the Community Foundation of Grant County’s eNewsletter)

“I'm lookin’ at ghosts and empties…”  -Paul Simon

Over the course of the last few days I have been to Graceland about 87 times with Paul Simon.  I’m not sure what draws me back to that car, riding along the Mississippi Delta.  I am not experiencing a loss of love, or a personal crisis.  In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so pleased with my life and the potential I see laid out in front of me.  And yet, I keep going back to that YouTube page, cranking up the volume, and listening to the story that’s nothing at all like my own, and yet so familiar in its description of life--somehow, we’re all just bouncing into Graceland.

Dave says, “Not until the pain of the same is greater than the pain of change will you embrace change.”  Don’t you hate that?  Why is it that change is a product of pain?  It’s as common to the human experience as getting out of bed in the morning.  Even the Bible says, “we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope.”  It’s the theme of every good movie, book, and story across the ages.  Conflict and resolution-that’s what makes up the living part of life. 

For example:  My best friend had her life pretty well mapped out when she graduated from high school.  (Didn’t most of us!)  She was going to the perfect school, she was planning the perfect career, everything had been set up as if the world revolved around her hopes and dreams.  But when the bills came due and the money ran out, the world stopped spinning and she fell flat on her face.  Big time.  She looks back now at that moment in her life and recognizes it for what it was, a Gracepoint.  She learned what it was like to work her way through college and pay cash.  She enjoys a debt free lifestyle and has opportunities to share her experiences with others.  Sure, at the time she felt like she was falling flying or tumbling in turmoil.  But that Gracepoint changed her life.

Are you going through a Gracepoint?  Maybe it has nothing to do with money.  Maybe it has everything to do with money.  Maybe it has everything to do with your kids, your marriage, your job, your church, you plans for your future.  Maybe it’s intensely personal.  Maybe it’s dramatically public.  Whatever it is, only you know what it feels like.  Only you can understand its depth.  And only you can seize the opportunity to embrace the change.  And so today, my fellow gazelles, let me offer you a generous serving of hope.  Keep your chin up.  I’m proud of you and I know that you’re going to make it!  And  maybe I've a reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland.

Someone Carried Me

Day 72

What a strange journey this had been. The valleys have been so low, I never thought I would see daylight. The hills have been so slight, at times I barely recognized them. But I know I’m moving forward. Even if it’s not fast enough to suite me.

I know it’s been far too long since I’ve posted a blog. I was on a bit of a blogging hiatus while I pieced together some information. I have also been seeking some professional treatment that is helping me process this whole thing. I am learning so much. About how the mind works. About myself. About God. I am learning a level of trust that I have never even fathomed. I am learning a level of grace that has never been in my personal doctrine. I am learning how to confront fear with power, and love, and a sound mind. I am learning about love on a whole new level.

Yes, love. In some ways, this has been the most eye-opening experience concerning love. Such love. Such wondrous love. Love that will not let me go. I have learned that I am surrounded by people who love me. You've never seen a person more saturated with genuine, abounding, all-consuming love. And I think, I must know what it felt like to be the “one sick of the palsy, which was borne of four.” This is a man who could not get himself to Jesus. He was sick, needed Jesus' healing touch, but he couldn't walk, all he could do was lie there. But he had these four friends. These guys knew where Jesus was, and had the faith to believe Jesus could heal him. When they got to the house where Jesus was preaching, it was so full they couldn't get in. So, (and this is the best part) being determined that Jesus should see their friend and heal him, they got onto the roof, made a hole, and lowered him down right at the feet of Christ.

When I went through my first bout with major depression about six years ago, I wrote a song about this very story. I feel it applies to my life more than ever at this time. May it speak to your heart tonight.

Someone Carried Me

Vs. 1

I can't walk

And I can't move

And sometimes I feel that I can barely breathe

And when my God seems most far away

Still I find that I am at the Master's feet

But a lame man doesn't walk

No a lame man doesn't walk

Oh a lame man doesn't walk alone

Chorus

I have waded through the storms of life

That thundered over me

I've been tangled in the hopelessness

And struggled to be free

I've done battle with the darkness

In the valley on my knees

But when I couldn't carry on

Someone carried me

Vs. 2

I can't see

The darkness closes in

And I wonder if I'll ever find my way

I take the hand that's reaching out to me

And suddenly I'm in the light of day

But a blind man doesn't see

No a blind man doesn't see

Oh a blind man doesn't see alone

Bridge

Somebody called my name

In a quiet, secret place

Somebody brought my pain

Before the throne of grace

Somebody loved me so

Compassion overflowed

Somebody saw my need

Somebody carried me

Deeper Still

"We must tell them that there is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still." -Betsie Ten Boom

Day 68.

 I feel like a rat in a labyrinth. I find myself running frantically down long and narrow corridors, turning down hallway after hallway, desperately seeking a key to unlock the next door.  And as keys come into my hands, sometimes from the most unlikely sources, I am able to open more and more locks. But none of the doors lead me out. They only lead me deeper. Deeper I go into the depth of the struggle. Deeper I go into the depth of the pain. I want to claw at the walls, but there's only one way out, and scramble as I might, I can't get to it fast enough.

Truth is bubbling to the surface of my soul, and it's not a pleasant truth, but a painful truth. The right words at the right time. The right keys in the right doors. Chasms of uncharted pain, un-granted forgiveness, unredeemed territory. Back and forth I pace the halls, wringing my hands, wiping my eyes. Back and forth my mind bounces from one thought to the next conclusion, from matters of the mind to matters of the soul, from my aching stomach to my aching heart. Am I here by design or here by discipline? Could I have avoided this place or was I destined to pass through here?

Something akin to madness creeps into my thoughts, seeps down my throat, and settles decidedly in my gut. There is no sleep to escape to, no destination to run to, no structure to hide behind. Hopelessness finds me like a fast moving tide, up to my knees, my waist, my chin. “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

Tonight, I am closer to the bedrock than I've ever been. There's so much, dear readers, so much that cannot be explained, expressed, revealed. I am on the verge of a break through or a break down. I am overwhelmed with revelation as God has been moving in the secret places of my heart, drawing things up into the light that have been forgotten long ago in the darkness. Everything must be re-examined, inspected, confronted. The healing process is painful as the spiritual attack kicks in at its most intense. I cannot feel the presence of God. “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?”

And yet, I know, somewhere in my head and mostly in my heart, He is with me. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” He will not leave me here. He is going to deliver me safely to the other side. But we must go through the valley. Though I cannot see the other side, I must turn my eyes upon Jesus and allow Him to truly be my comforter. Every unlocked door is progress in the right direction. The depth feels overwhelming, but God is deeper still.  Be encouraged. We're finally getting somewhere. It won't be much longer now.

Sleepless Nights

Day 66.


Two days without a post after the explanation of a bad week, I know, I know, it’s not comforting.  There really is a lot going on right now, so much that when I think about it, my frail little mind is boggled.  This may very well have been the most painful and productive week of this whole journey.  (I know what you’re thinking, “More painful than week three?!?!”)  I’ve had to confront some areas of weakness, accept my human-ness, and acknowledge things that are less than palatable to my pride.  Combined with the fact that the problem I thought was the problem that started this problem in a twisted and almost subconscious way really was the problem that initiated the whole problem after all.  I know, I’m rambling for poetic affect to give you a sense of how jumbled I feel; you get the point.  And somehow, I feel less than ever like the person I aspire to be.


Now that I don’t sleep anymore (at least not with any consistency), I use that time to lie awake in my bed and evaluate how normal I feel.  How does my stomach feel?  How does my chest feel?  Am I thinking clearly?  Am I overwhelmed or anxious?  Is God still with me?  Is He angry?  Am I making the right decisions?  Do I have a limited vision of God?  Do I have too high an opinion of myself?  Is there still hope for some of my fondest dreams to be realized, or should I embrace the loss and try and go on with my life?  Is God really big enough?  Does God really have a purpose in all of this?  Or did I bring it all needlessly on myself?


The struggle is real as I fade in and out of sleep, resting for a moment, then back awake to face my inner dialogue.  Somehow, it feels like I’m not in that bed.  That instead, I’m lying on a raft, floating out to sea, surrounded by dark waters and dark skies.  And I’m wavering between two outcomes.  Either I will eventually wash onto the shore, or the waves will roll in on top of me and capsize my little raft.  


Even as I think these things, I am aware that this is not me.  I am a happy person, a bubbly person, someone who loves to laugh and dream and plan.  I’m not easily intimidated, pushed-back, or discouraged.  I delight to be whole-heartedly in love, and give myself entirely to those who love me.  I rarely cry except at a sappy book or movie, or when I find myself in the beautiful, humbling presence of God.  This sickness has made me unrecognizable, and snuffed out my hope, turned me into a stranger in my own mirror.


But it won’t always be this way.  Of this, I am confident. I will rally again, stronger and better for having faced the worst of it.  It may be hard for a while.  It may get harder still.  But it will not swallow me up.  It will not defeat me.  One day, my little raft will dock on the shores of hope.  And God will be with me through it all.


From the book of Isaiah:
  But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.  When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.  For I am the LORD thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour….  Since thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee….  Fear not: for I am with thee.

Wilt Thou?

Day 63.

Apologies to all for not writing much lately. I admit, these have not been my best days. Maybe it has something to do with this dreary weather. It looks on the outside like I feel on the inside. The sky is gray, the rain is falling, no promise of sunshine in sight. It won’t always be this way…but sometimes I still wonder.

At the end of the day, I have to ask myself, have I done everything I know to do to help myself through this? Did I take the opportunity to go outside and breathe the fresh air? Did I go for a nice long walk and get my heart rate up. Did I eat well? Did I socialize? Did I pray for others? Did I reach out to help someone else who was hurting? Or did I sit around and feel sorry for myself? I’m afraid there are days when “feeling sorry for myself” is the only thing I can check off my list. And I’ll be honest, sometimes I just don’t feel like making the effort to do anything else.

But then I am reminded of the lame man who made his bed at the pool of Bethesda (John 5). He had been sick for 38 years. Thirty-eight years. That’s a long time to be sick. The means to be healed were in front of him, but he was never quite able to be in the right place at the right time. Enter Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus sees him, knows he has been sick for a very long time, and proceeds to ask him a seemingly ridiculous question: Wilt thou be made whole? Really, Jesus? Wilt thou be made whole? Do you really have to ask? Obviously this guy wants to be well again. He’s been lying on a porch in front of a pool waiting for an angel for who knows how long. His whole life has been sickness and waiting. Jesus, don’t you know how badly he wants to be made whole?

Of course Jesus knows. But when Jesus asks the question, the man makes excuses for why he is still sick. Wait a minute. The God of the Universe, the Creator of all things, the Lamb of God, the Great Physician Himself is asking him if he wants to be well and instead of saying, “Yes, Lord!” he tries to explain to Jesus why he’s still sick. As if he's failed somehow by being sick for so long. He's tried to help himself. Obsessed with his illness and the possibility of healing, he's made his home this place where healing is said to occur. Who knows how many bitter tears he cried at night. Who knows how many, many mornings he awoke with new determination. Thirty-eight years of being sick, and he all but apologizes to Jesus because he hasn't found a way to make himself well.

Notice how Jesus does not scold the man for not being able to take care of his own problem. He does not even give a response to the man's desperate explanation of his condition. He just heals him. “Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. “ Jesus isn't out to condemn this man, He just wants to make him whole. Just as he wants each of us to be made whole in Him.

I know God wants me to be well again, and so I must keep at my routine, doing everything I can do to help myself. But I cannot allow myself to feel like I hold the key to my own healing. Only Jesus can truly restore that which is broken. I have to trust in Him and His timing. And through Him, I will be made whole again.

Let My Words Be Few

Day 62.

Today I can't find the words for a blog post. It has been an interesting day, with equal parts good and bad, equal parts progress and regression. I have cried and I have laughed. I have comforted and been comforted. I have made decisions and put off decisions. The book of Proverbs says, “In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: but he that refraineth his lips is wise.” So, in an effort to be wise this evening, I will refrain my lips (or fingers in this case) and leave you with the words of Paul:

But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith: That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death; If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead.

Show Me

Day 60.

Lately I feel like I’ve been under a second wave of attack, just as I was starting to really find a place of recovery.  I feel like I’m losing ground.  I can picture myself in a dark cellar, finally finding the steps that lead to the small slither of light way up high.  I see myself climbing up in the darkness, unsure of every step, unsure if the stairs will keep going up, if they will truly lead me in the right direction.  And just as I find myself half-way to the top, something, out of nowhere, pushes me backwards, laughing at me as I tumble all the way back to the bottom, now bruised and bloody from the fall.  And it’s hard to get back up when you’ve been so defeated.

As I continue to read in the book of Matthew, I find even John the Baptist went through a low time and had his doubts once he was in prison.  (It is no coincidence that I happened to read that immediately following my first paragraph.  It’s amazing how God opens His Word to us at the right time.)  John actually sent some of his disciples to ask Jesus if He was the One who should come, “or do we look for another?”  John the Baptist?  Really?  Even John the Baptist second-guessed Jesus?  John had prophesied of Jesus before he started His ministry.  John had told his own disciples, “Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world,” when Jesus was passing by.  John baptized Jesus.  And of Jesus he said, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him.  And I knew him not: but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is he which baptizeth with the Holy Ghost.  And I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of God.”  Then, when John and Jesus were standing there, “lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”  It was the audible voice of God!  How much clearer can it be, John?  And yet, here he is, maybe a couple of years later, thrown into prison, discouraged, confused, and questioning everything he knows.  “Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?”  Oh, how I identify with John in these darkest moments.

So, what does Jesus say?  He could have rebuked John, “Oh ye of little faith.”  After all, John, more than anybody should have known who Jesus was.   Jesus could have given John a simple, “Yes,” and expected John to just take His word for it.  He could have proved Himself by breaking John out of prison.  He was certainly able to do so.  But no, Jesus does none of these things.  Instead, Jesus answers and says, “Go and shew John again those things which ye do hear and see: The blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the gospel preached to them.  And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me.”  Jesus shows John who He is; He proves Himself by what He’s done.

These are the things that minister to my heart, that give me the strength to get up and start climbing again.  I can recount the amazing things that God has already done in my life, miracle after miracle, blessing after blessing, heaps upon heaps, line upon line, precept upon precept.  Yes, I know who Jesus is.  Just as John knew Him by His works on earth, I know Him by the work He’s done in me.  So, I’m putting one foot in front of the other again, trusting in my Savior and my God.  I cannot allow setbacks to keep me down.  Jesus has proved Himself again and again and I know that He is faithful.  I have tested and tried Him, and I’ve never been disappointed.

Make Me Whole

Day 59.

There are days when I think I’ll never get over this stupid depression.  Seriously, I sometimes hear or read about other people’s experiences and every time they use the word “years” it’s almost enough to set off a panic attack.  Sometimes I just want to pretend like it’s not happening.  Like I’m not feeling what I’m feeling.  Like I’m not experiencing what I’m experiencing.  Like it doesn’t hurt.  I try and force it out of my mind, and go on with my day, doing whatever it is that I would have done on a “normal” day before everything crashed.  I try and force it out of my body, acting as if it never happened, like if I just keep pushing it down, down, down it will all go away.  Sometimes I think, if I could just wake up from this nightmare and start July all over again, I’d do everything differently and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t get sick…so very sick.

Days like today, I live on the prayers of my godly support system.  I know they’re reaching Heaven on my behalf and as the burden begins to ease (ever so slightly) I start to think clearly again.  Even though there’s a piece of me that wishes I could hit the redo button on the last three months, I know that if I didn’t go through the valley, I wouldn’t be able to stand on the mountain with God.  I have to accept that as much as I hate being a victim of circumstances, there are things about the situation I’m in that I cannot change.  Though I can move forward in recovery, I can’t will myself out of clinical depression.  I can’t fix things that are broken, even if I didn’t break them on purpose.  I can’t make sense of senselessness.  I can’t even get out of bed in my own strength.  It is on days like these where I feel the need for Jesus the strongest.

In my mind, I can acknowledge that God is with me.  I know that He is holding me up.  I know that He is drawing me close to Him.  This is where faith goes from handsome theology to haggard practice.  It is no longer folded nicely on the shelf, but crumbled up in my trembling hands, worn and tattered as I rework it over and over, pulling at the seams.  It is tear-stained and dirty from this drag through the mud; still I wrap it around me as a shield against the world.

I know that I am going to get through this.  I know that even though this has dramatically altered my life, not to mention all my future dreams for myself, I will be okay again.  Everything has been filtered through God’s loving hands and He is faithful.  He has bigger plans for me than I could ever have for myself.  So even though I can’t see it, I rely on the evidence.  I rely on the substance of things hoped for.  Yes, even today, I believe my faith will make be whole.

Let's Get Clinical

Day 58.

I’ve kind of been avoiding blogging about the clinical side of this journey because it’s a topic that can make some people uncomfortable.  Somehow, when we bring up “clinical depression,” we move from the realm of what is known and accepted to something less easy to define and not as socially palatable.  And yet, here I am, unable to explain it away, exhibiting the symptoms, and researching the treatments.

Like it or not, the illness is very real and the effects of it are my constant companions these 58 days.  Though it may not be noticeable to the uninformed passer-by, I am currently experiencing moderate to severe depression.  This particular episode was brought on by overwhelming stress.  I’m not certain what the exact straw that broke the camel’s back was, but it was followed by a nervous breakdown and a spiral into major depression that made me feel like I was dying.  Yeah…that was a rough month.

But, by the grace of God, there is hope for recovery (I say recovery instead of cure).  Today I am managing my depression naturally.  This means that it will take longer for my symptoms to dissipate, but as I continue to move forward, a little at a time, allowing for bad days and rejoicing in good days, I will recover and become whole again. 

Today I was reading in Matthew and story after story was about how Jesus healed the sick and then praised their faith.  I feel like the woman with an “issue of blood” who reached out to touch Jesus’ garment as He passed by in the crowd.  She believed He could heal her if she could only touch Him.  I keep believing there is healing for me as I move forward in faith.  Though I’m not sure when, I know I will be made whole once again.  I will recover. 

For more information about clinical depression, the following website is very helpful.  Also, if you google it, you can find a variety of sites that explain the chemical imbalance that causes clinical depression.

http://www.christian-depression.org/cdp/main.php

Follow Thou Me

Day 57.

Sometimes life is just hard. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t seem fair, and just plain hurts. You can be going along, minding your own business, having a perfectly nice day, when all of the sudden: WHAM! Someone you love betrays you. Tragedy strikes in your household. Sickness consumes you. Dreams fall apart right in front of your eyes. That which was certain dissolves in confusion and pain, crumbling like a poorly laid foundation, and everything you built on it collapses all around you until your life lies in ruins. And we’re tempted to say, “Oh God, couldn’t You have rescued me before I got to this point? Couldn’t You have led me away from that which would hurt me? Why is this happening to me…again?”

I guess I’ve been believing this whole time that when I became well again and after I’d learned everything God wanted me to learn during this season, I would be given back the things that I gave up at the beginning. After all, I’ve read the story of Abraham and Isaac. I would think, "What a beautiful conclusion to all of this hardship--if God gave back what I gave up for Him!'” But I guess that’s not truly giving up anything at all, and it’s really a rather hollow sacrifice.

I am not Abraham. His journey is not my journey. His sacrifice is not my sacrifice. His blessings are not my blessings. But, His God is my God. So, when the hardest days come and I’m so tempted to compare myself to Abraham, or family members, or even people who seem so very undeserving, I am reminded that God is God of all, and He says, “follow thou me.” 

Even still, there are days when my eyes are so blinded by tears I can’t see the path in front of me. Where fountains of hope that seemed to sustain me for a time, turn back to bitter wells of grief that poison my heart. When that which I had been depending on to get me through this desert, vanishes like a mirage in the sun, and I realize that I’ve been pinning all my hopes on something fallible and finite, temporal and fleeting. (Oh, how very fleeting.)

And still, Jesus bids, “follow thou me.” And I am reminded, “He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure, gives unto each day what He deems best, lovingly its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest.” There will be bad days, hard days, near impossible days. There will be pain and toil weaved into the tapestry of our lives. To expect a life without hardship is to expect a spring without rain. Some days must be dark and dreary, but the Psalmist tells us, “The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.” Oh God, draw nigh to this broken heart. Get me through the hard days until I can again see the sun shine.

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Want To

Day 56.

Like a castaway on a deserted island, I continue to count the days until I am fully liberated. I’m coming up very soon on the two-month mark of this journey. Wow. Only two months. It feels like it’s been a lifetime. And in some ways, I guess it has.

The truth is, I’m feeling so much better than I was. Somewhere deep inside of me, things are changing, the weight is lifting, the light is starting to shine. And something very important is happening: I have my “want to” back. 

Today, I want to take a long walk in the late summer breeze, breathing in the cool air that warns of a fast approaching autumn. I want to scoop up my little niece in my arms and blow raspberries on her face and neck and hear her giggle. I want to pick out my clothes for the week, marrying practical and not-so-practical pieces to make cute and functional outfits. I want to go out for Chinese food with my aunt and catch up on each other’s lives, and laugh. I want to dance in my living room when no one’s home but my dog to look at me like I’m ridiculous. I want to sing. Not on a stage or in a studio, but in my car or in my shower. I want to eat festival food, drive around town aimlessly on a Saturday morning with my friend, play Phase 10 with my brothers, pop in at Mom’s just for a chat. I want to wear a flower in my hair, or bounce down the stairs, go for a run, or just curl up on the couch and watch home videos. 

I want to help people. All kinds of people. I want to help teenagers who are fighting a culture war completely unprepared. I want to help other women to find God’s gender-specific purpose for their life. I want to help children who are wards of the state, faceless numbers in the foster-care system. I want to help others who suffer from clinical depression. I want them to know there’s hope, there’s healing, and that Jesus loves them. I want to help my friends and family in any way they need me, through their hardest days and longest nights.

I want to worship God with complete abandon. I want to shout, cry, and sing praises to Him without being self-conscious or disingenuous. I want to follow Him to the ends of the earth and not second-guess, hesitate, or regret one moment of the journey. I want to understand the deep, deep love of Jesus. To know Him in the beauty of His holiness. I want to pray with earnest. I want to trust without wavering. I want to be always ready to give an answer to everyone that asks me the reason of the hope that is in me, with meekness and fear.

Ah, the healing season. I hope it takes every bit as long as it needs to and not one second longer. Because even though I want to be through this difficult valley in my life, more than anything, I want to never forget where I’ve been and where God’s brought me from. Only then, can I truly appreciate all those “want to” ‘s as the beautiful gifts from God that they are.

Yes or No

Okay, write a blog on patience and guess what happens the next day…inner turmoil. That’s kind of exciting because it means I must be doing something right. Someone out there in the vast cyber-world must be getting something out of this blog, even if it’s just me. So even though I don’t enjoy the inner turmoil, I “glory in tribulations also.”

Today I am musing on the clarity of God’s will, and I am struck with a question, “Can God make a ‘Yes’ as clear as He can make a ‘No’?” Maybe it’s just my personality, but it seems to me that I can more readily accept a “No” from God, but find myself constantly second-guessing a “Yes.” For instance, I have been trying to find a doctor for about a month now. I don’t want just any doctor, so I’ve been seeking recommendations from trusted friends and family. With each suggestion, I have been praying for God’s will and asking that God would open doors wide or slam doors shut. Three slammed doors later, and I’m starting to get the message. That’s what a “No” looks like in my life. So you’d think, that if I can identify the “No”, I should just as easily be able to identify the “Yes,” right? After all, if the door’s wide open, I should just walk through it. But fear will keep me in the doorway, leaning back and forth, straining to hear that “No,” so I can step back into the safety of the hallway. What’s up with that?

I think I’m afraid of the desires of my heart. I think I’m afraid that if I want something, really want something, it must not be a good thing. I could get very very specific about what I want right now, what my heart longs for, what can bring me to tears (even just writing this much about it), but I’ll spare you the details. The point is, even if God did tell me “Yes” on those things I want so badly, would I have the courage to move forward in faith? Or would I constantly be second-guessing myself? 

Psalm 37 says, “Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.” I believe that’s a promise from God, but I want to tread carefully here. The qualifiers in this passage, in order to receive the “desires of thine heart” are to: Delight in the Lord, Commit thy way unto the Lord, and Trust in Him. Am I doing all of those things? Am I truly delighting in Him? Am I really committed? Do I really trust Him? And when I examine myself, I begin to realize that those are truly the desires of my heart: to delight in Him, to commit my way to Him, to trust Him. So even though there are earthly things my heart desires, my greatest desire is to be in the will of God.

So, back to this “Yes” or “No” question. I think I have to really commit my way to Him, whatever that might look like, and then trust Him to bring it to pass in His timing. More of that patience stuff we talked about yesterday. More relying fully on God to reveal His perfect will step by step. And maybe that means having those things I want so desperately, but maybe it means waiting for something better (I can’t imagine) to come along. Regardless, I am delighting in the Lord today, even as I battle the inner turmoil; I am standing on the promises of God.

Have Patience

Allow me to ease any concerns, my faithful followers, I did not post yesterday due to technical difficulties. My computer froze up and try as I might, using all the tricks I knew to use, I could not make it work. Finally I shut it down manually and went to bed. My patience for the day had been tapped. Ah, patience.

Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to celebrate two major events in the lives of two of my closest friends (and Bible study gals). One friend (my cousin) had her very first baby. Up at the hospital on Friday night, I cradled the child in my arms, declared him to be beautiful (which he most certainly is), and shared in the joy of such a wonderful occasion. She told the story of the labor and delivery as we agonized with her and felt the appropriate concern, knowing that she survived the worst of it to become our candid narrator. What a blessing to share her joy.

The other friend allowed me to tag along as she went to buy a wedding dress. (She has less than five weeks before the big day.) We went to a small variety of stores, passing over dresses that cost thousands, embracing (literally) dresses on the sale rack, and finally finding “the one” among the hundreds of others that seemed so very lovely, but just not quite right. As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she knew no other dress would do for that very important day. More blessings. More joy. And more reminders that God is urging me, compelling me, even begging me to be patient.

The psalmist says, “Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him.” Paul tells us in Romans that, “tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope.” And, “if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.” He says in Colossians, we are “Strengthened with all might, according to his glorious power, unto all patience and longsuffering with joyfulness; Giving thanks unto the Father.” And I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea. The Bible has a lot to say about patience.

As I flesh out this idea of what it means to be a patient person, I begin to wonder exactly what patience looks like. I've heard people say, “Don't pray for patience, that will only bring about trouble.” So instead of patience, we pray for blessings and then get frustrated when we have to wait for them. I can't imagine that's what God has in mind for His people, especially in a culture that caters to the demand for instant gratification. God's people should look, act and believe differently. We're so afraid of “patience” that though we tell our children there is value in waiting, and that tantrums are not acceptable when we don't get what we want when we want it, we often, among other believers, say, “God is teaching me patience” in a way that might as well be “God is teaching my Calculus.” (For those of us who aren't so mathematically inclined.) We'd rather flunk the class and make up those credits in Art or Choir.

I think our real issue is this: We think patience is a feeling that we can't quite accomplish inside ourselves, when in reality, it's an action that forces us to rely completely on God. Patience is something we do. And it's not because it feels so good at the time. It's an act of putting those things we're anxious about purposefully into the hands of God. There are certain things I put into the hands of God about 35,000 times a day. Do I feel patient? No. But when I surrender things to God and take my hands completely off of them, I am allowing for my tribulation to work patience in me, knowing that will work experience, and that experience will work hope. I am being patient without feeling patient. When we say we don't want to pray for patience, it's like saying we don't want to rely completely on God. Ouch. And being impatient is just another way of assuming we don't need God. It's not just a personality flaw, it's a failure to allow God to work His will in our lives. (And now I've gone from blogging to meddling.)

So as I am waiting for those special and particular events to come about in my own life, God is using this time to mold me and make me. He is teaching me to rely fully on Him and to trust Him completely. I'll admit, it's a little scary at times because I'm not really sure what it is I'm waiting for and I'm constantly fighting the urge to want to “help” God. But this is where I place my trust in the divine and sovereign Creator of the universe. Even if it's something as simple as my computer freezing up, I know that God is intimately involved in my life. He is teaching me to be patient, and reminding me of His unfailing patience toward me. What a humbling thought.

Loose

Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonished, and rose up in haste, and spake, and said unto his counsellors, “Did not we cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?”

They answered and said unto the king, “True, O king.”

He answered and said, “Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt; and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.”

Okay, who can guess what Bible story this is? (You Bible College buffs don’t count.) It’s a very well-known story that you may have seen depicted on a flannel graph board when you were in VBS as a child. You guessed it! The Hebrew captives, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They refused to bow to the king’s idols and were cast into the fiery furnace because of it. I was listening to a sermon on cd and the preacher brought out this idea that they had been cast into the fire bound (all tied up) but they were visible within the fire loose (free from their shackles). And I thought, oh yeah, that’s me!

When I started on this journey to holiness, I was certain that the entirety of my anguish was condemnation from God. I thought I was being punished for something I couldn’t see or understand. I couldn’t feel the peace of God and I couldn’t comprehend why everything was so dark and awful. I was a complete mess emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and even physically. I had set myself up for a major crash without realizing it, and the crash felt like I’d been completely blindsided…by God. But the further I get away from it, the more clearly I can see it.

God has amazing ways of doing things. He sees us for who we are. He knows where we’re at. He appreciates the big picture. I still can’t say that I understand everything that happened last July or in the following painful weeks and months, to make such a claim would be to put myself on level with God. But I can say that God allowed it for my good, and that’s good enough for me. He lovingly crafted my furnace of affliction and has led me so gently through it. What a wonderful Savior! Like the Hebrew captives, He is in the fire with me. And like the Hebrew captives, I am no longer bound!

Here’s the exciting conclusion- Though the Hebrew children were still in the fiery furnace, they were there with Jesus and they were loose. They were free in the furnace to walk with God Himself, even though the fire was burning as hot as ever. Isn’t that exciting?! Even when we can’t feel God, even when He seems a million miles away, He’s right there in the fire and He can set us loose so we can walk with Him. It doesn’t really matter what your furnace looks like. It could be clinical depression. It could be grief over a loss in your life. It could be loneliness, illness, rejection, stagnation. Everyone’s journey is different, but God is ever the same, and He is always with us. He wants us to walk with Him even in the hard times. And by His grace, we no longer have to be bound by sin, by fear, by confusion. We can be made free in the fire. Praise God, I’ve been cut loose!

Who Am I?

Nancy Leigh DeMoss says, “Circumstances do not determine who we are; circumstances reveal who we are.” I’ve always found that statement particularly convicting. Under certain circumstances, I’ll admit it, I just don’t shine. As I reflect over some of my reactions to these current circumstances, over particular behaviors, thoughts, outbursts, and frustrations, I begin to see myself for who I really am. And if I set the reel of my memory just a little bit farther back, I begin to see myself for who I really was.

I think that in general, in life, I have been a “Martha.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story found in Luke 10, it’s rather short, so I’ll just go ahead and post it here:

Now it came to pass, as they went, that he (Jesus) entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

“Martha, Martha…,” says Jesus with the utmost patience. (I just imagine the Lord saying in the same tone, “Ashley, Ashley….”) This is where I identify with Martha: She’s not a careless woman, far from it! She wanted Jesus to come to her house; she was pleased to have Him there. She wanted to serve Him. That doesn’t seem so bad, does it? It’s good to want to serve Jesus, right? And of course, we’re talkin’ about Jesus here, so just any ho-hum servitude won’t do. We want to present Him with the best, the most, the greatest! And in doing so, Martha gets “cumbered.” Definition: to hinder; hamper, to overload; burden, to inconvenience; trouble. Martha, Martha…. She got so caught up in serving Jesus, she became overloaded by it all. (This barely sounds exactly like me.)

And then, (and I love this part because it’s so me) Martha starts looking around for someone to help her bare this load she’s taken on (voluntarily) and is struggling with. And there’s Mary, just sitting around, and letting Martha do it all by herself. Can we see why Martha was so frustrated? Here she is, wearing herself out to serve the Lord, and there’s her sister, just hangin’ out with Jesus. I wonder how many times she paced across that kitchen before she finally made up her mind to say something. I wonder how many dirty looks she shot Mary across the room as she was coming and going, all the while missing all the best time with Jesus because someone had to put dinner on the table. After all, how many times have I thought or said, “well, someone has to do it!” And then was all stirred up, and angry with everyone else who didn’t feel responsible. Ashley, Ashley….

So when she finally expresses her frustration to Jesus, and this is the part that always gets me, Jesus scolds her and says Martha’s the one who is wrong, not Mary. What? How is that possible? Couldn’t Jesus have just told Mary to go help her sister who was having a rough time? Didn’t He see all the effort Martha was putting in? Didn’t He know that her intentions were to please Him? Yes, this is where my cousin (who reminded me of this story) and I cry foul. 

Reading Martha’s story is like staring into a mirror. And honestly, I don’t like what’s looking back at me. Martha knows she’s got a problem, but instead of asking Jesus what she should do, she tells Jesus how He should fix it. Been there; done that. As if He doesn’t see our need. As if He couldn’t intervene at any time. We insist on having it our way, and then expect Jesus to make it so.

But Jesus knows Martha’s heart. He knows who she is. “Thou art careful and troubled about many things.” Oh Jesus, how clearly You see us. Martha was wearing herself out trying to serve Jesus, until she got frustrated with others and even frustrated with Jesus Himself. She didn’t take any time out to sit with Jesus and hear Him speak. She was too busy trying to serve Him. And I wonder if at that moment, when Jesus so highly praised Mary for doing what Martha found so very irritating, if Martha stopped what she was doing and sat down beside her sister, or if she turned around and stormed back into the kitchen, humiliated, wounded, and determined to be right. And I guess that scares me. How many times did Jesus bid me come, and I stormed back into the kitchen, more frustrated than ever? How many times did I go back to setting the table, cloaked in my self-pity and self-righteousness when He was asking me to be still? How many times have I thrown a temper tantrum when I didn’t get my way?

So the question is, who am I? Clearly the circumstances have changed, but the question remains. What are these circumstances revealing me to be? Can a “Martha” ever become a “Mary “? Can changed circumstances permanently change who I really am? I think this is where the journey gets interesting.

Out of the Pit

I feel like I can say with a significant measure of confidence that I am on the healing side of this journey. That even though outside my window the sky is overcast and gray, I can feel a shimmer of hope illuminating the interior of my heart, bringing a sense of peace that will pave the way for joy. I have never felt the ground beneath me so solid, never before known the true security of the solid Rock upon which I stand. I have never embraced such full surrender of my soul, my body, my very life. 

I am still experiencing the physical aspects of clinical depression- anxiety, indecisiveness, nervousness, and the tenseness in my chest and stomach. But I’m determined not to let them overpower my good sense and sound reason. God has so blessed me to be able to distinguish what is reality and what is misconception. For those of you who don’t understand what clinical depression feels like, the best way for me to describe it is that my “fight or flight” reflex kicked in about two months ago and the intensity of those feelings has stayed with me day and night over the last 50 days. Those chemicals keep rushing through my bloodstream. The indecisiveness comes from my “gut” telling me that all options are bad. Everything must either be fought or ran from. (This brings some clarity to the drastic decisions I was making at the beginning of all of this-but all that’s in God’s loving hands.) So when your gut tells you everything is bad, it’s hard not to confuse it with your conscience, or the Holy Spirit, or your emotions, or even satan (who capitalizes on it immensely, to be sure). Logic tends to go right out the window because the feelings inside are so demanding. It’s a very real and very scary place. King David described it as a horrible pit and it seems impossible to hear the voice of God when you’re at the bottom.

But remember Psalm 40 from yesterday? King David said, “He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.” What a beautiful thought! God will reach down into the pit where I am crushed and broken and bring me out and then tell me what to do next. I think that’s my favorite part. I have been such in the habit of establishing my own goings, it will be a wonderful relief to finally allow God to establish my goings. Especially with all the indecisiveness I’ve been facing lately. Then again, the truth is, He’s already establishing my goings. I’m living a surrendered life. A purposeful life. A blessed life. He is leading me on to green pastures and beside still waters, but I must first pass through the valley of the shadow of death.

So today I say, I am on my way up out of here. I’m not going to live down at the bottom of the pit when Christ has already made a way for me to be rescued. I'm going to keep moving up into the new level that God is calling me to. I am totally surrendered to God's will for my life. So I can say as Paul did, “we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.” Ah yes, that shimmering hope. That's what makes the journey worth it.

Rejoice in the Lord

Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice. –Philippians 4:4

Notice what this passage of scripture does not say. It does not say “Rejoice in the Lord sometimes.” It does not say, “Rejoice in the Lord when everything is going your way.” It does not say, “Rejoice in the Lord when you feel like it.” It says, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” And this is not just a suggestion. This is a commandment from the word of God.

Today, I am rejoicing in the Lord. I am rejoicing in who He is. In what He’s done. And in what He’s going to do. I’m not rejoicing because my life is perfect. I’m not rejoicing because I have all the answers, or because I feel like I’m back to normal, or because I know what the future holds. I am rejoicing because the Word tells me to rejoice. And the amazing thing is, that when I purpose to rejoice, I start to feel like rejoicing. I start to feel the presence of God on my life. I start to think of how much He’s done for me, the unrestrained blessings that have been poured out on me again and again, heaps upon heaps. I start to lay hold on His promises and claim them.

Today I was reading in Psalm 40 and I was so blessed by it, I am just going to post the whole thing and let it suffice for today. This is truly worth rejoicing over.

I waited patiently for the LORD; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD. Blessed is that man that maketh the LORD his trust, and respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies. Many, O LORD my God, are thy wonderful works which thou hast done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: they cannot be reckoned up in order unto thee: if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered. Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt offering and sin offering hast thou not required. Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God: yea, thy law is within my heart. I have preached righteousness in the great congregation: lo, I have not refrained my lips, O LORD, thou knowest. I have not hid thy righteousness within my heart; I have declared thy faithfulness and thy salvation: I have not concealed thy lovingkindness and thy truth from the great congregation. Withhold not thou thy tender mercies from me, O LORD: let thy lovingkindness and thy truth continually preserve me. For innumerable evils have compassed me about: mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of mine head: therefore my heart faileth me. Be pleased, O LORD, to deliver me: O LORD, make haste to help me. Let them be ashamed and confounded together that seek after my soul to destroy it; let them be driven backward and put to shame that wish me evil. Let them be desolate for a reward of their shame that say unto me, Aha, aha. Let all those that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee: let such as love thy salvation say continually, The LORD be magnified. But I am poor and needy; yet the Lord thinketh upon me: thou art my help and my deliverer; make no tarrying, O my God.

Trusting in the Lord

The devil is a sly old fox. I’d like to catch him, and put him in a box. Lock the lid and throw away the key, for all those tricks he’s played on me. I’m glad I got salvation. I’m glad I got salvation. I’m glad I got salvation. I’m trusting in the Lord.

Now theologically, I’m not sure how that little children’s song holds up against the great hymns of Charles Wesley or Fanny Crosby, but it does start with the premise of acknowledging our enemy and concludes with a declaration of trust in our Lord. And that’s good enough for me.

I feel like there have been times during this journey that the devil himself was sitting on my shoulder whispering the most palatable and plausible lies ever told. Here I was, trying desperately to hear the voice of God (a still, small voice) and all the while being romanced by a master deceiver. He made everything so believable, so easy to accept as truth. It’s not as if I liked what he was saying. He was not telling me things that would make me feel better or good about myself. No, just the opposite. He was telling me things that were easy for someone with shattered self-esteem to latch onto as truth. Mean, vicious things that felt so very true, I assumed they proceeded out of the lips of logic. Hateful things. Spiteful things. They wormed inside my head and heart, cycling round and round, gnawing at my conscience, clawing at my sanity, dizzying me with their perceived consequences, nauseating me with the weight of their potential reality. His favorite lie to tell, and my favorite one to believe: You’ve messed things up so bad, not even God could fix it now. Over and over he spoke it to me. Over and over I endured it. I tried to deny it, but over and over it came into every thought. Over and over it clung to every bit of rational I could muster. Over and over I was flooded with examples of people who had made irreparable choices, even Biblical examples. I fought it. I denied it. I grieved over it. But over and over it came, wave upon wave until I nearly drowned in it.

1Peter gives us the following warning: “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.” Devour is a serious word. He doesn’t just want to pacify you, subdue you, maim you, or bench you. He wants to devour you, to destroy you. He wants to eat you alive. 

So how do you battle a lie? You confront it with the truth. Jesus said, “ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” Free from the shackles of the enemy’s lies. Free from the bondage of the enemy’s deceptions. Glorious, wonderful freedom! The truth is, God has the strength and the power to make something beautiful out of my life. I can never mess up so bad that God can’t redeem me. God is bigger than any mistake. He is bigger than any bad choice. He is big enough to form the universe, and big enough to run my life…if I let Him. So here’s another truth that I’m finding particularly helpful: Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. That’s a promise from God. He has to flee when we resist him. Not if he wants to. Not if he feels like it. Not if it’s convenient and he’s tired of tormenting us. No. It’s a promise from God. He HAS to flee when we resist him. Praise the Lord! He HAS to flee. In the name of Jesus Christ, I have been set free. I don’t have to believe the lies of the enemy any more. According to God’s promises, I can send the devil on the run. Because I’ve got salvation. And I’m trusting in the Lord.