Rethinking Gifts

A few years ago Scott and I made this crate for a series at church. I don’t remember the message of the series, or why this crate was the perfect visual aid for it, but I have never forgotten building this box with my (then) new husband. Since then, this picture – of the box in one of our church’s trailers after the series was over – has been on our refrigerator; I saw it the other day, in the middle of some things I’ve had going on, and it seemed to resonate. Here’s why.

If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, it’s no secret to you that depression and anxiety have been something I’ve suffered with for a long time. I have the diagnosis of general anxiety disorder with agoraphobia (read: fear related to social situations) and depression. Recently, I had the opportunity to share my story – in graphic and ugly detail – in church, following a message entitled, “I’m Not Who You Think I Am.” (If you’re interested, you can hear the message and my testimony here. I’m at the very end, starting at about 35:00.) It was very difficult for me, and I shed many tears in preparation for doing that. I speak up front every week, but never like this; it was scary to rip off the mask I’ve worn for so long and expose the ugly truth about who I am and how I live.

In any case, I did it and I got a huge response from it. I experienced real healing from revealing that part of my life and seeing that people still loved and accepted me in spite of it, and I had the opportunity to speak to a lot of people afterward who struggle with the same (or similar) things but always thought they were alone. There have even been people who have completely different struggles who have come to me and thanked me for my honesty, because my openness and transparency and boldness in sharing allows others to do the same, or to at least feel safe and free to do so.

I won’t lie. It wasn’t fun or easy to do it, and it hasn’t been fun since then. Yesterday at church, after I did my welcome spiel at the beginning of the first service, I nearly panicked. I told Scott, “They’re looking at me funny. They’re all thinking about what I shared last week. They’re looking at me differently.” With the help of a friend and some reflection, though, I realize that yes, they were looking at me differently…but not in a bad way. You see, now I’m real to them. I’m a person with struggles and fears and problems…and they can relate to me.

Through this, I’m seeing something become reality that I’ve suspected for awhile: My depression and anxiety, while a thorn in my flesh and something that I am going to have to work through for the duration of my natural life, is a gift from God. He is using it for something absolutely beautiful, and I’m a vessel for His work. My struggle is about more than me. God’s working in it to change more than just me. This thing I’m living with, while very personal, is not about me.

That’s the truth, and I’m seeing it come to life.

My vial of anointing oil.

Yesterday in church we continued with the series we’re in right now, talking about “things you can’t say in church.” After the message and during worship, we offered the chance for prayer and anointing with oil. As one of the leaders of the church, I was available to pray with people up front.

All I knew was that I had people in line to talk and pray with me. All I knew was that I prayed a lot, and my hands were slippery with anointing oil, and that my heart was now heavy with the confessions of suffering whispered in my ear. It wasn’t until after worship that I was told, by one of the women I admire most in the world, that my line was the longest. People were flocking to me, wanting to pour out their grief and pain and suffering to me.

This is not a statement of pride. This is not a pat on my own back. This is an expression of awe.

You see, this struggle that I’ve had was never something I intended to share with people. I saw it as a weakness…a flaw in my character and a chink in my armor. I never wanted anyone to know…but God did. Years ago, He had a plan for the nervousness in my heart and the tears in my eyes. He paved the way for me to be in a spotlight position in my church, and cleared the path for me to share my story. He knew that others needed to hear that. He knew that my story would combine with my God-given talents to touch lives. He knew that, even while I cried alone in the darkness. He saw my tears, wiped them away, and made a way for it all to be bigger than myself.

He did it, and He’s not finished. Everything – every good and perfect gift – is from above, and He turns everything around for my good. I believe that. I’ve seen it. It is a reality in my life, and I have to figure out how to stay out of His way and allow His will to be done.

So think about that. Something I wanted to hide – like an old stage prop in a storage unit – was pulled out, dusted off, and placed in the spotlight for everyone to see….and to be used for something so much bigger than it was originally. What gifts do you have stowed away in the dark recesses of your life? Is there something you’ve been through that could be meant for something bigger? Can’t God do something magnificent with your suffering? I think He can, and He will.