A Minute to Meditate

/in

I have a minute. One I could fill with all sorts of things. There is laundry to be done, a book to be written, endless organizing and list making to satisfy the OCD in me. But my soul can’t take it anymore. I need a minute.

Sometimes we just don’t want to sit in our thoughts. We don’t want to ponder the deep questions or access the pain. But we can honor ourselves by going there.

I need a minute to meditate.

I am pondering who God is in the midst of suffering, where God is in the midst of suffering. And why suffering?

I’m not really looking for answers. I am just sitting with the questions, the uncertainty, the anger, the disappointment with God.

I just need a minute to meditate.

We don’t have to have it all right. I don’t think it’s about the answers. It’s about the questions, the exploring. The faith that God will remain no matter what I am wrestling.

I just need a minute to meditate.

 

When it feels like God screwed you over.

/in ,

I’ve never been able to compartmentalize my feelings to one situation. If someone has wronged me it spills over into our entire relationship until I have properly dealt with it. But until I do, it affects everything. I don’t love that about myself, but I know it’s a part of who I am. It goes hand in hand with being empathetic and sensitive, always asking deep questions and needing the answers.

I know I need God. My head believes in a higher power that looks out for us in ways we can’t comprehend. I believe that there is good in every situation and that angels surround us, stroking our hair when we cry and as the world falls apart around us. But the God in my head and the one In my heart just aren’t the same.

I came to this conclusion a few weeks ago with the help of my therapist. I have been feeling distant from God, craving lots of space from the evangelical normalcies I had grown up with my whole life. I can’t connect to many of the things that the modern church stands for, and yet there’s so much I love as well. I’ve realized that there’s a divine being that I know that I need, one I’ve been searching for my whole life, and then there is the God I’ve been hearing about my whole life. And the two are not the same.

As I grow and gain life experience, I am not willing to pretend anymore. I will not accept answers that explain away doubt and fear. I will not settle for another bible verse to stick into every situation. I want way more than that.

But in order to get there, I know I have baggage to resolve with the God of my heart. My past is riddled with painful moments where I don’t believe with my heart God was present. Everything I have learned might tell me that of course, He was. But I’m not there. I’m not feeling it. I need to work through the junk standing in my way so that I can cling to the feet of Jesus once again and fully believe that He is with me as has been with me this whole time.

Denying that I feel this way won’t help me. Walking through life submitting to the beliefs of others won’t free me. This is my journey to a deeper relationship with God. A deeper knowledge of this higher power who I am sure is much less like the God of the modern church than many of us think.

Are you there? Are you desiring God but unable to fit yourself into the box He’s been put in? Do you need to know it’s okay to rearrange every piece of your faith? Tear it all down people, rebuild brick by brick. Take the time to figure out who God is. Learn to separate that from cultural Christianity and find freedom in the beauty of both. You are not alone. So many of us are doing it. A journey to die to our own selves, and to really be more like Jesus-not who others say He is, but who He actually is.

Happy Friday dear friends!

When Doing Nothing is Everything

/in ,

I’ve always been drawn to excitement, adventure, newness, importance. I want to be a part of big things, and make big, beautiful waves with my little life. In Sunday School I was always taught that God had a big plan for my life. And so my little heart dreamed real big, like being the next mother Theresa, or carrying Jesus in my womb, or being a movie star. But what I didn’t quite understand is that God’s big plans often look pretty small and insignificant to us.

We search and search for that big plan for our lives we’ve heard so much about. But in reality, we’re already living it. Many of us won’t do a “big thing”. We won’t cure cancer, or become a well-known vlogger, or be the chef at Buckingham Palace. And the truth is, If we end up in any of those places, chances are that isn’t the “big thing” in our lives anyway. Because the little things, those are really the big things.

As I sit here staring into the eyes of my rambunctious little toddler, I’m wondering about the big things. Last week I turned down the opportunity to audition for a play I desperately wanted to be a part of. But the timing felt wrong, so I didn’t. And that felt like a much bigger “thing” a much more fulfilling purpose then choosing to be home to put my baby to bed every night. But I know, those little things matter. The cuddles, the diaper changes, the many “I love you’s”, the hand holding while I’m trying to drive. Those are really big things.

Sometimes people tell me I should write a book. In fact, I have some beautiful people in my life that believe in my big dreams more than I do. But the truth is, I may write a book, I may not. I may become a known author like my dad, I may not. But I’m learning not to care so much about the outcome, the goal itself. The meat of our lives, the shaping of who we are, it’s all about the journey. The good the bad, it all somehow means something.

Yesterday I had three panic attacks. The day felt like a total flop. Yes, I got some things done, but how am I making any kind of difference in anyone’s life, including my own, if I can’t even get through an allergist appointment without sweating through my sweater. But every panic attack is teaching me. It’s teaching me that I can mom even through really hard moments of anxiety. It’s teaching me to cling to Jesus because my moments feel out of control and scary. And it’s teaching me to slow down, to care for myself, to ask for help, to breathe deep. Important lessons that should not be ignored.

If you know me at all you know that I love David. David from the Bible that is. I love his story. Lowly shepherd boy, doing the dirty work. How boring to be a shepherd? How stressful to keep the wolves away from the sheep? How chaotic to herd all those fluffy little things exactly where he needed them to go. But guys, David became a king, and I’m sure you can guess how all of those mundane tasks translated into him ruling a nation. And yes, he might have kind of messed up a bit by having a dude killed so he could sleep with his wife. But the point is, he was just a human guy, being a shepherd, and God used that.

Okay, but we probably won’t end up ruling a nation or anything right? So what if we’re just a shepherd our entire life and it doesn’t amount to anything bigger? It always amounts to something bigger, we might just not always see the bigger or be acknowledged for it. Our lives have a ripple effect, causing shifts we know nothing about.

A few weeks ago our pastor spoke a bit about Mother Theresa. Now there’s someone who did something great, right? We can all see it, and secretly, we all want to live a life with that much purpose. But what struck me was what he said about her mother. She wasn’t extraordinary to the human eye, but she always welcomed people into her home. She told her daughter from a young age “never eat a mouthful without first sharing it with others”. That example she set for her daughter changed the world.

The little things matter, they really do. Because in the end, they really are the big things. So in the mundane day to day when it all feels like a jumbled mess, or when you’ve lapsed back into unhealthy coping skills, remember that it’s all important. It’s all about the journey. Maybe doing “nothing” is everything.

Even if.

/in , ,

I’ve always known I had a choice. I can live in constant fear of the worst happening, or surrender to the fact that I have no control.

This is the lesson that I have been learning my whole life in various ways, but parenthood has really slapped the icing on the cake. Because now there’s this teeny tiny person who relies on me for everything and yet I ultimately have very little control over her life. Yes I make choices that affect her on the day to day, but in the grand scheme of things, her life is out of my hands.

It happened on day one. I had already been wrestling with how my relationship with God might navigate parenthood. Pregnancy had brought with it more anxieties then I had expected. But when Lilah was born she was taken to the NICU. This was it, the moment of deciding what kind of parent I was going to be. Eric and just looked at each other and I said, “I guess this is parenting. We don’t have control of this.” And we didn’t. She only spent five hours in the NICU and ended up being okay, but at the time, we had no idea what was happening. I wasn’t happy about it, but I knew that if I was going to survive the rest of my life without fully breaking down mentally, then I was going to have to learn to take things as they come.

That’s always been quite hard for me. I come from a long line of senseless worriers and so I come about it honestly, and have lived most of my life walking in the ever pacing footsteps of my anxious relatives. But I’ve always wanted it to be different. Deep down I know that the only way to live a life free of deep worry is to open my hands and say “God, even if, you are with me”. Ugh but that is hard. Because how can God really be with us if the worst is happening all around us. If God is good, and just, and loving, then why is there so much pain and suffering? Well I don’t claim to be the theologian in the family but I can tell you that on my best days I believe God is all those things despite the horrors that may unfold around us. I believe that there is more to the story than we will understand. I believe that God mourns with us. But on my darker days, I can’t imagine how any of that make sense. And that’s okay too. Wrestling with these things is crucial, I believe.

But this is what I know without a shadow of a doubt. That even if, for reasons we may never understand, God does not heal your loved one, or prevent that hurricane, or stop that shooting, he is there in it all. When we hear stories of joy and goodness coming out of pain, that is Jesus. That friend who lost a loved one, but feels a strange sense of peace, that is Jesus. It may not always make sense, but we see it, right? We can feel it.

While the questions still remain, I can offer this: Even if, God sees you and is holding you and loves. If you don’t believe it that’s okay, I don’t always believe it either. But I do cling to it, because I’ve experienced it and seen it and choose to believe that it is true.

Just because it’s church doesn’t mean you have to say yes.

/in ,

I should be napping. My little lulu is and I need to catch up on some sleep. And yet my mind keeps turning and turning as I process so many similar conversations I’ve had this year. Conversations with dear friends and acquaintances, those who are getting so overwhelmed and caught up in the “task list” of their faith.

It is so hard. We are human. We are always looking for a formula, a way to “do more for Jesus”. I cringe. It saddens me that we fall into that trap so often.

It is specifically hard in a church setting. How can you say no to serving in church? Yikes! So many of us take on a million different roles that we can barely keep up with, not wanting to say it’s too much, because if Jesus died on the cross I can serve goldfish to preschoolers, right?

Okay. Let’s take a step back. Deep breath.

Just because it’s church doesn’t mean you have to say yes.

Remember, just you being, breathing, showing up-that is ENOUGH.

I took a break from serving at church this year. My gut was telling me stop-you need a break from everything. I needed to recuperate from my own longstanding emotional battles and some big life transitions. Not that we can’t serve in our weaknesses, but that’s not always the right choice. So often we assume that doing something “Christian-y” must be what’s right for us. But do you know yourself? Are you listening to yourself? Because I believe that our gut instincts, the things we know we should do but are afraid to, those are ways that God speaks to us.

Recently I started serving again at our church in a capacity that felt congruent with my own heart, soul, emotional health. And guys, I am NOT stressed about it.

When we make decisions based on the needs of others but ALSO our own needs, amazing things happen. We are alert and happy and successful, all because we listened to ourselves and thus listened to what Jesus is trying to tell us about our own needs.

So to my friends who are struggling with feeling burnt out in service, overwhelmed with the tasks they’ve signed up for week after week in an effort to “further the kingdom”, let me ask you this: could you do more in one area if you let go of all the others? Could you give fully of yourself once a month instead of spreading yourself so thin over the course of four weeks a month? Are you taking care of your own emotional health? That is so important.

Take a few minutes and google verses about Jesus resting. He wasn’t constantly doing big things. He was often resting up so that he could give more at one time.

Deep breaths, let go of what you need to, you are serving Jesus by learning to know yourself. Knowing yourself and honoring yourself honors him and his plan for your life.

Amen.

The little things are important.

/in , ,

Many of my conversations with others share this common theme; this need for purpose, excitement, newness. The hum drum tasks of life just don’t quite cut it and we are constantly searching for more.

When I break it down it’s all quite confusing. I’ve heard my whole life how Jesus is rest for the weary, and there have been times in my life where I have felt that so strongly. But hand in hand I have also gotten the message that I must do and achieve and work hard for his kingdom. In the Christian culture, aren’t missionaries idolized? We don’t look at stay at home moms or businessmen and say “wow. Look what they are doing for the kingdom of God”.

What a mistake we are making. To promote this culture where doing more equates to serving Jesus more. I just don’t buy it.

And so I’ve been on this mission in my own life to really sink my teeth into the sweetness of every single moment. To treat the little tasks in my life as if they were a great adventure with so much purpose and meaning. Because even though it may not always look like it, everything we do has promise.

Of course serve. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t do things for others or get out of our comfort zone, but what I am saying is that the little things are important. Grand gestures and big ideas aren’t always the best ones.

I guess the key is, are we listening to Gods voice? Are we so in tune with that greater plan that we can feel content in every moment because we know what we are doing has a purpose beyond what we can imagine? It’s so hard to live in that peace. But that’s what I want for my life. Not the certainty that I’m doing everything right, or that Im impressing anyone, but the acceptance that everything I do has a purpose and it’s never not enough.

Are You There God? Seriously…Are You?

/in ,

Ever felt this way?

Standing on a mountaintop shouting into the abyss hoping there’s someone out there greater than you that will hear you?

Jesus himself even felt that way in Gethsemane. He cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me (Matthew 27:46)”.

If Jesus can say that kind of stuff, then why can’t we?

If Jesus can sit in the midst of pain and suffering and the messiness of life and challenge God, then we can too.

We’re allowed. We don’t have to pretend.

I fight against my humanness tooth and nail.

I want to be God.

And so I spend a lot of my life standing on metaphorical mountaintops screaming into the abyss.

I am a loud screamer, not always a very good listener.

“If I can just control this one last thing then It will all make sense”, I tell myself.

And then I find myself in these places where I am screaming and screaming and wondering where God is.

And then He tells me that I was too busy trying to be Him, too busy running my own life, too busy perfecting my own life to pay Him any attention.

Crap.

He’s listening to me. He’s sitting with me in my sorrows. He’s walking beside me in my triumphs. But I’m too busy screaming on mountaintops and running my mouth to notice.

I all too quickly forget that when I’m face down on the bathroom floor shaking fists at the sky, He’s sitting there next too me waiting for me to turn around and notice Him.

“Who are you shaking your fists at?” He would say, “I’m right here.”

Lies Anxiety Tells Us.

/in , ,

Anxiety is ruthless.

And while this post last week was an encouragement to respect our fears and listen to where they come from, we do not have to listen to the lies they spin.

Anxiety is a nightmare.

Someone once told me that if I truly believe that God is bigger than anything and everything, then I wouldn’t have such crippling anxiety.

She obviously doesn’t struggle with anxiety.

It’s a war zone. a series of battles inside of myself that are sometimes won and sometimes lost.

Some days I wake up and I am ready to take on the world, and other days going outside seems like an outrageous task.

Anxiety spins lies in our brain like “You are not good enough”, “you can’t do this”, “you are a mess”.

It takes a seemingly simple work party, or a trip to the park, or a grocery store run feel like climbing Everest in bare feet and a bathing suit.

It steals precious moments from our lives without us even knowing it.

Most nights when I come home, I sit on the couch and take a deep breath and realize my shoulders have been clenched up to my ears all day.

Anxiety. The silent dictator.

A wise person once told me to let fear ride in the passenger seat, but not to let it drive.

I love this imagery.

I imagine this faceless person next to me in a cute convertible, they reach to change the station and I say, “no way. you can ride along, but I’m in charge of the details”.

I know It may sound incredibly weird to actually give your anxiety permission to be a part of things, but really all anxiety is, is a part of ourselves that wants to be heard. That doesn’t mean that we have to live our whole lives enslaved by it and it is a frustratingly ongoing process. But by letting our anxiety sit in the passenger seat, we can keep an eye on it and allow it to feel heard, while still driving the car.

I know sometimes the burden of anxiety seems too great, and it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get off of the hamster wheel. Sometimes the last thing we feel we can do is muster up a corny pep talk.

So when that is the case, and you’re missing one more social event because you’re in panic mode, tell yourself that you’re doing the best that you can, snuggle up on the coach or draw yourself a nice bath, and give yourself a break.

Anxiety sucks you guys, and the least we can do is be on our own side.

The thorn in my side

/in , , , ,

This thorn in my side anchors me to Jesus.

My eyes wander, my heart flutters to other things to fulfill it; but my anxiety, that thorn in my side, it is the most uncomfortable blessing. It keeps me clinging to Jesus because I have no other choice. Even when I’m unsure of my faith, the theology surrounding me, my place on earth-there’s this still small voice experiencing something greater than myself.

When I was a teenager I was sure I wouldn’t live to be 21. In fact, I didn’t want to live to be 21. For someone whose life felt like constant turmoil, It seemed like an absurdly long time to be alive. Childhood trauma had festered into wounds I had no idea how to heal. I was self-medicating and limping my way through life. Christianity was a muddle of “dos” and “donts” that I couldn’t keep up with. I felt deserted by the God that was supposed to be with us in our pain. But regardless of it all, I still found myself clinging to Jesus in the recesses of my subconscious, on the off chance that he actually existed and cared. And so it’s been my whole life.

I’m 28. I’ve lived well past my 21st birthday. In many ways, I am so different than I was 10 and 15 years ago. But even though I’ve worked through so much emotional pain, I will always be an empath, sensitive to others and the world. Earth will always feel a little unsettling to me. But when I find myself seeking comfort in things that ultimately give me no true joy- like endless shopping, seeking the illusion of perfection, self-medicating. I am reminded of the gift that I’m too much of a mess to ever think I can do it on my own. Thankfully. If I didn’t wrestle with daily anxiety, emotional ups, and downs, chronic OCD and perfectionism, I can’t say I’d cling to God in the same way or be able to acknowledge my need for that relationship regardless of whether or not I am angry at God in that moment.

I’m not in love with Jesus all the time. I ask lots and lots of questions and demand answers from God which may or may not include a few expletives. I am daily confused by modern Christian theology and cannot stand the constant use of Christian buzz words.

I’m just figuring it out. Still navigating through past traumas and shame, still experiencing panic attacks and dark days and lots and lots of messiness. But I do know that whoever God is, whatever he or she is really like. It resonates deeply in my soul. So when nothing else makes sense and I don’t know quite where I belong, I just cling to that.

When It’s More Than We Can Handle

/in

We’ve all heard that sweet saying, “God never gives you more than you can handle”. But I have come to wonder about this. It sounds so nice and safe by worldly standards, but is that the God we serve?

Sometimes, I have found, it is more than we can “handle”. Can anyone really “handle” a terminal diagnosis? Or the news that their child is dead? Or the pain of abuse? Or even the day to day struggles that we all face? Can we really “handle” anything?

We are given more than we can handle all the time. So what happens then? What happens when you are given more than you can “handle”? What happens when your life seems to be crumbling all around you and people keep telling you that you can handle it because “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”. What then?

That is where the beauty of our relationship with Christ comes into play.

I want you to take a moment to navigate from this page and read a blog post written by an incredibly faithful woman who is dying of cancer.

http://www.mundanefaithfulness.com/home/2015/2/10/if-i-tried

I read this, this morning and immediately my wheels began to turn. I realized as I read, that this journey Kara is on is WAY more than she can handle. But thankfully we are not called to handle the pain that life has in store, we are only called to trust in our savior’s goodness and let him take the wheel.

I don’t want to believe that I am never given more than I can handle. That is meaningless to me. I want to be given more than I can handle constantly so that I am always in need of Christ in the deepest way possible. I don’t ever want to fool myself into believing that I can “handle” it without Him.

-Psalm 23:4-

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”