Counterintuition

(I had every intention of this being a coherent and, possibly, profound post, but my stream of consciousness took over and it became a bit meandering. My apologies.)
All my life, I've had people tell me that I'm too sensitive....too emotional....too *something* that makes me too willing to cry....too willing to wear my heart on my sleeve....too easily read. I've been made fun of for crying. I've been mocked for getting upset at times that I now know were understandably upsetting. At ridiculously young ages, I was accused of having PMS, just because I would get upset at things people thought I should not be upset about. Sad, but true.

This had lots of effects on me. It made me more independent, realizing that I might need to stand alone if I ever wanted to be understood by those around me. It made me private, not wanting to share my struggles and trials with people, for fear that they, too, would not only misunderstand what I was saying but find reason to laugh at me. It made me scared, fearing that something was wrong with me and that I was, perhaps, too sensitive and a burden on others because of my sensitivity. All of this led me to a belief in recent years that it's better for everyone if I just carry my burdens on my own. This has become both a cause and a symptom of my depression, anxiety, and agoraphobia.

O, Israel, how can you say the Lord does not see your troubles? How can you say God refuses to hear your case? Have you never heard or understood? Don't you know that the Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth? He never grows faint or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to those who are tired and worn out; he offers strength to the weak. Even youths will become exhausted, and young men will give up. But those who wait on the Lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:27-31 NLT)

It has been a real journey for me. There have been (and still are) times when I don't want to share my thoughts and struggles with anyone - not even Scott - for fear that they will one day become fed up. One day, they will have heard it enough. One day, they'll snap, and tell me that it's time for me to get over it. One day, enough will be enough and I'll lose them forever.

I'm still traveling the isolated road of depression and anxiety. I can liken it to a long country drive. As you travel a long country road, hour after hour may be met with no sign of civilization or development. When a town approaches on the horizon, it is a relief. You aren't alone after all. Your eyes dart back and forth at the new sights, you stop for a rest and talk to people, and are refreshed by the companionship - however temporary and superficial it may be. The time comes, though, when you have to leave. As nice as this town is, you feel the pull to keep driving. This isn't your destination, and you have miles to go before you can rest. So, even as you want to stay in the company of others, you get back in the car and drive away, back into the darkness and quietness of the road, where you will again spend an incalculable amount of time alone before you will again see lights on the horizon.

As I travel this road, I have learned (and often need to be reminded) that while it seems that I travel alone, I have a constant companion.

My Beth Moore devotional this morning said this: Few prisoners have people who are on the outside standing by them throughout lengthy incarcerations. Most people would just as soon forget prisoners existed. They are the unpeople of our society. The same trend appears among Christians. The best of our churches tend to welcome those captive at first. But if that person doesn't "fix" pretty quickly, they will probably soon be despised. In gracious contrast, God stands by us until we are free, never forsaking us. He is the only one who is not repelled by the length and depth of our needs.

That blew me away. I have long known I am a prisoner bound by the heavy chains of depression, painful memories, and fears of an uncertain future. I have known, even, that God desires more for me than a life in bondage. He doesn't want to see me as a prisoner any longer, and longs to see me walk in the freedom He designed for me. While my head knew that to be true, my heart cried out in fear: "No! I can never lean on God! I might push Him away, too. I might finally struggle one day too long, and He might get fed up. He might say I'm too sensitive - feeling too much and not trusting nearly enough - and leave me to travel this road alone. I can never pour it all out to Him."

My heart is finally trying to grasp the fact that God is not pushed away when I cry out to Him too many times, but when I refuse to cry out to Him at all. God never tires of hearing the same prayer for mercy, because that means His child trusts Him to take care of it. His child finally sees Him for who He is, believes who He says He is and who she is to Him, and seeks the life He has promised. That's what God wants.

He knows I can't fight on my own, and - as was pointed out to me today - He doesn't expect me to do so. I'm incapable of fighting and defeating this on my own, but in His mercy He comes after me fully aware that I'll need to cling to Him every step of the way, or risk falling back into captivity.

But today, Jessica, I'm setting you free, taking the chains off your hands. If you'd like to come...with me, come along. I'll take good care of you. But if you don't want to come...with me, that's just fine, too. Look, the whole land stretches out before you. Do what you like...It's up to you." (Jeremiah 40:4-5 MSG)

Ultimately, it's up to me. I'm reminded again of the sermon that the Spirit used to lead me to the Lord. It was entitled "inDEPENDENCE Day," and was given over July4th weekend of 2003. I was deep into a valley when I heard it and could not peel my eyes away from the onscreen image of a broken chain. Suddenly, it clicked with me. If I wanted to be free, I had to surrender. It was completely counterintuitive, but it resonated with me. Give it up and become free. There's a God who wants to see your broken tears. He wants to see your weakness, because then He knows He can come to full strength.

Where the rubber meets the road.....

.....I sit in eager anticipation of meeting my God. I'm in a place right now that's teaching me a lot - I'm seeking Him and wanting more and more of Him, and He's faithfully meeting me right where I am.

I'm learning to trust Him. Different scenarios - some I've written about, some I haven't - have me in a place where I just need Him - only Him - because I'm completely helpless and unable to do anything about my circumstances. Literally, there is nothing I can do. There are times of desperation that lead us to extreme measures that aren't particularly helpful, but let us feel accomplished and satisfied that we have, at least, done something to change our situation (even if it didn't work, or the change that came was not for the best). My situaion now is not like this. There is nothing at all that I can do, one way or another, to change anything at all.....except my mindset.

My mind is tagging along with me on this journey, and it isn't always enthusiastic about the road we're traveling. I'm learning, though, that keeping my mind focused on God is the best way for me to see things differently. Without fail, when I take my eyes off Him, things become fuzzy and scary and overwhelming. I'm so thankful for this new study I'm emabarking on. Right at this moment in my life when I most need to hear from God, I just *happen* to be doing a study on how to better discern His voice.

Discerning His voice is like the trust thing I've been dealing with. You think you're doing it - and doing it well - until something requires that you do it every second of every day. That time for me is now, and it has shown me that I am so far from having things figured out - so far from being able to sit comfortably in my faith. I have so much to learn. As it turns out, those things I've thought I was doing all along will only be learned now, in the time that I most need them. With a realization like that, it's hard to be angry about my circumstances. I know He's doing this for my own sanctification, and is bringing me more into His likeness through this mess. I know that for a fact, and I'm actually excited, in a way, to be here. That's not to say that I'm enjoying this. Not at all! This is so hard, and so frustrating, and so scary.....but I'm grateful that He's teaching me something through this and He's going to bring me out on the other side (whatever that side might look like) a better person who knows Him better.

Word of God, Speak

I've just started a Bible study at Michelle's church called "Discerning the Voice of God," by Priscilla Shirer. I've never done anything of hers before, but I think this one is going to be really, really good. I've just done my first day....should have done it several days ago, but, well, life happened....and I want to keep going. I want to go ahead and do the next day, but I know I need to wait so that what I've just read and heard can sink in.

What I've learned after my first lesson is that God is always speaking, but if I don't approach my relationship with Him with an attitude of anticipation, expecting Him to speak to me, I won't hear whatever He has to say. I won't. A have to take everything I have on my mind and in my heart to Him, lay it all at His feet, and wait to hear from Him. He will speak.

It's humbling, really. I can plop myself down before the God of the universe, cry my eyes out over something that - in the grand scheme of things - probably doesn't amount to a whole heck of a lot, and God will hear my cries, feel my hurt, and reach into the broken and desperate parts of my soul to heal me and being me to a place of greater trust and intimacy with Him. Why would He do that? I'm such a mess, and overreact to everything. I don't trust Him like I should. I don't lean on Him, but instead try to stand and walk on my own two wobbly legs. I say I'm giving Him everything I have, so that He can do what He will with it all, but those are only words. My actions betray me. I'm nowhere near as spiritual and intimate with God as people might think. I'm just a big mess.

The great thing, though, is that Jesus sees that, knows that more than I do, even, and accepts me in the middle of that. He sees the mess and looks right past it to what I could be if the mess were not there.

Sometimes I just want to hear His voice, though, you know? I wish it were audible, as weird as that would be. (Can you imagine browsing the cereal aisle at the grocery store and being stopped in your tracks by the booming voice of God?) I wish I could hear it and recognize it and respond to it the way I know is possible. I wish I could know it's Him when I hear something in my mind/heart. Scripture tells us that His sheep will know His voice, and while I believe that's true, there are so many other voices that are vying for my attention that it's a little confusing sometimes. I wish I could hear His words of comfort and peace and let them penetrate my heart because I knew they were from Him. I wish I could be as intimate with Him as people think I am. I wish I could know Him as well as He knows me.

As though He knew what I was thinking.......

From my devotional calendar today:

Jealousy and envy are torments from hell. I spent many years being jealous of anyone who looked better than I did or had talents I didn't have. I wanted to be happy for that individual, but something in my soul just would not allow it. What God does for you or for me may not be what He does for someone else, but we must remember what Jesus said to Peter: "Don't be concerned about what I choose to do with someone else - you follow ME!"

I'm in the closet..........

...........trying to figure out what I'll wear for the day. Many thoughts go through my mind. It's cold (or hot) outside, but it's going to be hot (or cold) inside. It's raining (or extremely sunny). I can't wear *that* because people I work with *ahem....Eddy* will have something to say about it. I need to be comfortable. I need to look nice. Those shoes gave me blisters last time I wore them. Those pants are too short for those shoes. Those shoes are too flat for those pants.

On and on. Suddenly, I'm seized by panic. Completely overwhelmed. Stressed. All in a lather about this - the first of many decisions I'll face in my day, and certainly not the most important one, at that. Desperate for help, I call out to Scott. "Hey, babe........pick a color." He shouts a color from wherever he might be in the house, I target that color in my search, and - unless he says red, which he seems to like a lot - the issue is resolved.

This inner conflict stems from a lot of things, I think. Remnants of adolescent insecurities tell me that I have to look perfect or people will laugh at me. Perfectionism says I have to look perfect or I'll be a bad person. Agoraphobia says that if I just stay home, I won't have to worry about it. Depression says that I'll never look as good as I want, so it's best to cry about it.

I read scripture that attacks these ideas.

Proverbs 31:30 - Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

1 Peter 3:3-4 - Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.

Psalm 139:13 - For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

Job 29:14 - I put on righteousness as my clothing; justice was my robe and my turban.

Matthew 6:25-29 - “That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are.

I pray about it.

"God, help me to see myself as you do. Help me to understand, deep in my heart, that this stuff doesn't matter if I'm secure in who I am in You."

I talk to other people.

"Jess, we think you're beautiful, and we love you! It doesn't matter what you're wearing!"

And I continue to panic. I continue to buy more stuff so that I'll have more options and will feel complete. I continue to think that my appearance - what I have on - will somehow make me into the person I want to be. I continue to chase after an unattainable image. I continue to play the game. I continue to hide it all.

Blue January

Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The LORD, the LORD, is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation." With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. In that day you will say: "Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing to the LORD, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world. (Isaiah 12:2-5)

I'm still scared. I'm debating whether or not to look online at WebMD. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes, though, the plethora of information is overwhelming and because I already verge on hypochondra sometimes, that's not really a good thing. I get just enough information there to become convinced that I'm deathly ill and not have anything I can do about it.

In any case, I'm a little bit fragile this morning. Last night I cried and cried, for no reason, really, and Scott had to rub my back until I fell asleep just to keep me calm. I don't know what it is. I had so much on my mind and felt so overwhelmed. I talked to Karla last night, though, after my horrific day, and she helped me out a lot. (She's amazing. I just love her so much. I should tell her so.) She got me talking about it, which I didn't want to do but knew was necessary. I came to the realization that I probably have post-holiday depression. The excitement of Christmas and Thanksgiving and New Years dies down, there's not another holiday in sight for awhile, things go back to "normal," and I get blue. I never thought about it before, but that's true for me. I've always been one to get sad on Christmas night and the day after Christmas, feeling the big let-down after so much anticipation. I think I'm just sad right now, and that's coloring how I see everything. It helps to know that, because with that in mind I can remember that while the stuff that happens might not be great, it almost certainly isn't as catastrophic as I might perceive it.

In an attempt to see if this is a noticeable trend for me, Karla went to my file and looked at her notes from a year ago. She started reading things to me that she had written and things that I had said, and I couldn't help it - I started weeping. I felt like I was listening to myself in my darkest moments - it was me, yet I was detached from it - and it was so sad and scary....but so refreshing because I'm not there anymore....but so fresh because it wasn't that long ago. It was a very strange thing. Though the tears kept coming, I wasn't ready for her to stop reading. It's been such a journey for me. The depression, the anxiety, the agoraphobia and panic attacks. God has been carrying me through this for a long time - longer, probably, than I realize - and He's not finished carrying me yet. I'm still in the middle of it. He has never left me alone before, and I have no reason to believe that He might do so now.

Sometimes I just need a reminder. That's all.

Hurry up and weight.

Last night Scott and I were at the gym when I heard something really sad. These two teenage boys were working out - doing a little while on each of the contraptions in the gym. They were very fit and athletic looking, so I didn't think anything about it until one of them said he had to go. I was stretching right by the door, which is right by the bikes (where one of them was), so I was in prime position to hear the exchange.

Boy 1: It's 7, man. I'm out.
Boy 2: Not me. I've gotta stay awhile.
Boy 1: All right. See you later. (walks out the door, then comes back in) Dude......you'd better get that weight off by tomorrow.
Boy 2: Yeah. I know. I will.

This just made me so sad. These two athletic young guys are so concerned about weight....why? So that they can wrestle in a particular weight class. They each had wrestling team sweatshirts on.

I have a soapbox devoted primarily devoted to this subject. When I was on the rowing team in college, I rowed on a lightweight crew. To be on this crew, we had to be under 130 pounds before we were allowed to race. We had to go through the ordeal of stripping down to our spandex and jerseys on freezing fall mornings so that it could be determined that we were under the required weight. This was a little objectifying, but I never minded it that much, personally. I'm blessed (and I do mean blessed) to be petite. I have a small frame that has never carried much weight. It was never an issue of whether or not I would "make weight." It just never was, and I was thankful for that.

I was thankful because of what I saw some of the other girls going through in order to be able to race. They always had a certain degree of consciousness about what they were eating and how many calories that might contain. This would get particularly bad the week of a regatta (virtually every week during the fall). The timing of this heightened awareness was unfortunate. Not only would we be working extra hard in the gym and during our practices to prepare for the upcoming race (burning extra calories and requiring more fuel to keep going), but these girls - each beautiful and in no position to be so concerned with such things - would be extra concerned with what they ate. They dreaded that moment early on Saturday morning (or, in some cases, late on Friday night) when they would have to strip down and face the music.

I place no blame on these girls. They were doing what they had to do in order to do what they loved to do. Crew is addictive. They just wanted to race, but the sport said that they had to be under a certain weight to do so. If, by some chance, all of their preparations did not help them "make weight," they would run. Then use the bathroom. Then run some more. Then they would return to the race headquarters to be weighed again.....and on and on until they made weight. It wasn't just my teammates, either; they were never alone on those frantic post-weighin runs.

I hate this. How many young people - at the most self-conscious time in their lives - are told (on top of everything else they're feeling and the other pressures they're feeling) that now they have to lose weight? Those words stick with them forever. Trust me. I've seen it.

"Get that weight off by tomorrow."

There are few things you can say to someone that would be as destructive as that.

"Happenstance"

I'm so grateful for the ways that God works. More than once today I've marveled at how He beings things together according to His good plan. Things happen, people come together, relationships form by that thing we call "chance," and He's behind it all. It's amazing, isn't it? One little thing can happen on an idle afternoon that impacts the way you think - the way you see the world - the way you live. Nothing is happenstance. Nothing comes out of the blue for God. He ordains it all to go according to His plan, and it's so comforting to know that my life is in hands that are infinitely bigger and wiser than my own.

Jen, my friend and coworker, is leaving her job next week. She's leaving her position and I'm entering it, in one of those weird twists, and we won't see each other nearly as often. This makes me really sad. She has made such a difference to me since she started here, and though it has only been a couple of months that we have been here together, I know - beyond any doubt - that God placed us here together for a time for a specific reason. Someone who doesn't believe in divine appointments might let the friendship fade away and eventually disappear, but knowing that God brought us into each other's lives to minister to and help each other, it would be impossible to do that. He used this job - this random place of employment - to introduce two women who would never have met without His intervention.

That just makes me think, you know? Nothing happens in my life without a reason. Nothing comes into my little world without some purpose. With that in mind, it's hard to just drift through my days and let time pass me by.

When I think I'm just wandering around cyberspace, I "stumble" upon a blog that holds healing words for my hurting heart. When I think I'm just taking a job so that I can earn money for my family and work outside of the house, I find a place that works in me, releasing insecurities and fears I've held onto for so long. When I think I'm turning the radio on to fill the silence in my car, a song comes on that speaks to me in words I needed to hear.

There is no chance. There is no such thing as coincidence. I used to love those things called "coincidences," but now I don't even believe in them........and it's so much more amazing when you don't see things as happenstance, but as something planned beyond our understanding. I like that even better.

How do people make it in this world when they don't believe there's something more?

"Look, God is all-powerful. Who is a teacher like Him? No one can tell Him what to do. No one can say to Him, 'You have done wrong.' Instead, glorify His mighty works, singing songs of praise. Everyone has seen these things... Look, God is exalted beyond what we can understand... We cannot comprehend the greatness of His power." (Job 36:22-26, 37:5)

Treading Water

Today I'm feeling overwhelmed. Not stressed, really. Just overwhelmed. I have so much going on, all the time, and while I love it all, I feel like something is going to have to go. Something has to stop. I feel like I can't do anything really well because I'm trying to do so many things moderately well. I feel like I'm barely treading water.

The hard thing is that most of the things that are causing me to feel this way are things I do for the church.

I am on the Worship Design team, and as a part of that team I do the welcome, introduction, and announcements every Sunday. I love doing this. In a weird twist, this introvert really likes speaking in front of people. (I'm a study in contradictions.) It gives me a creative outlet, of sorts, as I try to think of ways to draw people in to the worship service and introduce whatever ambitious topic we're tackling that day. This does require some preparation, though, and some anxiety (usually on Sunday mornings as I'm getting ready for church, as I try to sort my thoughts out so I know what I'm going to say when I step on the stage).

I organize the devos. These are devotionals written every week by members of the Quest community. Every week I make sure everyone has the topic, understands what to do, and gets them in to me on time (ha!). Then on Sunday morning, I spend the better part of an hour printing and folding them to insert them into the bulletins. Then I post them online. It's time consuming and stressful........especially when people decide not to write one and don't tell me. It's always fun to have to write something inspirational when you haven't thought about it at all beforehand..........or better yet, have already written something on that topic and now have to write something else that sounds completely different..........at the last minute because someone else blew off the assignment. I like writing them, yes. Organizing them? Not so much. If I didn't do it, though, I don't know who would, and they're important. They have to be done.

I lead a cell group with Scott. Granted it's a small group, with only two other couples besides ourselves, and it's pretty casual. It's still something I have to think about. Something else I have to plan for. Something else that I feel suffers when my attention is so scattered. I hate that, too. Cell groups are supposed to move people toward change. They're supposed to help people grow spiritually and connect with other people in similar life situations as they are in spiritual ways. When I don't have time to prepare....or feel like I've just thrown something together....I feel like I'm cheating everyone out of something that could be powerful and life-changing. That just doesn't happen when the lesson is shoddy and we end up chatting about random stuff for an hour instead of diving into and discussing Scripture.

Most recently, I've been working on adapting my pastor's sermons for print. He has a very conversational style, if you've never heard him, and this takes some work. Our dream is to have them professionally printed and bound so that they can be distributed to people who might be more inclined to read something than listen to it - those people do exist! I am thrilled to no end to be doing this. My dream is to be published. I long for that. In no way do I NOT want to do this.

We had a sermon a few months ago about being pruned. We talked about how sometimes things have to be cut out of our lives so that God can grow us into the people He wants us to be, and how those things that have to go can really be anything at all. It can be sin, a hobby that takes to much of your time......even something you do for the church (under the ruse of serving) that is a burden and keeps you from thriving. I don't feel like I'm blooming, and I think it's because I'm being held back by something. I've prayed about it, and I still don't know what I'm supposed to do. Of all the things that are cluttering my time and my mind, it's probably the devos that are causing me the most stress, but I can't quit them because someone has to do them and I don't have anyone on the devo team that might want to step up and take over.

Drr. How did this happen? All I wanted to do was serve God in my church, and it's become this monster that's dragging me under water.

Not feelin' it.

I'm having a rough time this morning....but I'm putting on a happy face! I've been feeling really, really anxious - well, I shouldn't say that, because "really, really anxious" now is NOTHING compared to what "really, really anxious" would have looked like at this time last year. That's the truth, and I'm so thankful for that. It still doesn't feel all warm and fuzzy, though. It's that nagging, sad, overwhelmed feeling........the kind that has so often made me curl into a ball and hide. I was victorious this morning, though. I got up and ready and am at work. I made it here on my own which, again, doesn't sound like much but is HUGE given where I was a year ago.

Why do I put on a happy face? Sometimes we all feel a little...floppy...and that should be okay. When someone asks how we are and we're having a poopy day, we should be able to say, "Honestly, pretty poopy." Yesterday at church we addressed the topic of hypocrisy in the church, and how we - as Christians - feel this need to act like we have it all together, even when we really just don't. This covers a lot of stuff, really....covering up our sins (or acting like we don't even have them)....pretending to be happy when we're not at all....on and on. It's a plague.

The Real Meaning of Freedom

Choice.

I was talking to a friend yesterday, and she was afraid to talk to another friend of ours because of what she would think about the direction her life is heading. She's not doing anything wrong. She's not making any bad choices. She's not endangering anyone.

Her choice? She is going to stay home with her children after she gets married later this month.

See, our other friend is also divorced, and has a little girl. She is very independent and could be called a feminist. She believes strongly in a woman's right to make a life of her own, independent of any man. Friend #1 was afraid to talk to her about her decision not to work and to stay home with her children because she was afraid she was going to get the feminist lecture.

My first thought was this: Isn't the real mark of freedom the ability and the right to choose?

I think that being free - whether as a woman or an American or whatever - means being able to choose the life that's right for you. Feminism, really, is the polar opposite of anti-feminism (whatever that could be called) but is very much the same. Throughout history, women were told that they should stay home. They should take care of their families. They should not work, should not speak up, should not have a life of their own. To tell a woman, then, from a feminist perspective, that she should do any one particular thing seems no better than telling her she should stay home......barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.

Freedom should mean that she does not have to do any specific thing.

Freedom should allow her to choose the life that's right for her. She should be able to plot out her own path. If that means she will stay at home with her children, great! If that means a woman may never marry but will instead focus on her career, fantastic! That's her choice, and whatever the choice may be, she should not have to feel bad about it or worry what anyone will think. I'd like to think that we've come far enough to allow her that.