"It's all in your head."
The voice threatens to overwhelm, to defeat my paltry effort at activity today, today when I am most definitely dragging, using every ounce of energy to pull myself - stroke by stroke - across the pool.
The dizziness comes. I must stop, I think, as I move - pull, kick, glide - down the lane.
I begin to resent, to let the already negative energy I've been battling all morning take me even further down the rabbit hole.
I hate this. I've only just begun. How could I need to stop so soon? Why won't my body cooperate? I don't like the message it's sending me.
"It's all in your head."
The words come again, but, this time, there is only a shadow of the former darkness. I can still see the face of the one who used to tell me that as a child. He meant well. He was trying to toughen me up, to teach me to push through mental battles and succeed in spite of weakness, limitation. He wanted me to learn strength.
I continue to swim, even when I know I shouldn't. I'm succumbing to the old lesson, the "push through" lesson, the "don't listen to yourself" lesson.
Then, the voice comes again, but it is softer, gentler, different yet the same.
"It's all in your head."
It is in my head - the message, the trigger, the flashing light I need to see before I move past the point of no return.
I am dizzy; therefore, I must stop exercising, whether I want to or not.
But it's more than that; somewhere along my journey I have had to learn how to flip a switch inside my head, to turn my thoughts over on themselves so that a new way of thinking comes out on top.
As I swim, I think: "thank you, God. Thank you that it's all in my head. My thoughts do matter, and I need to listen to them."
So I go gentler, move slower, think softer thoughts toward myself, my abilities, my limitations, my weakness.
I think...I can't push through, and I shouldn't. The lesson here is to listen, to honor, to obey the voice inside me that is a gift from my Maker, to embrace my weakness. To give up rather than go on.
The lessons of my youth were meant well. Everyone wants their children to be ready for what will come (and we all know that pain, challenge, stress will come). But they were ill-conceived, missing the key point.
I can not push through; there simply isn't enough strength there. And if I try to force the issue - whatever the issue may be - on my own strength I will ultimately do much more damage than if I had never tried at all.
It's when I embrace that holy truth that I live a much fuller life, a much rounder one, more complete, more perfect. I am, eventually, able to go farther and do more than I ever was, not because of my own strength but because of the strength of the One who binds me.
I'm not saying I'll be able to swim a triatholon any time soon, if ever. Who knows? But I am saying that I'll be able to keep swimming, one arm in front of the other, legs kicking behind, because I chose to stop today.
If I had "pushed through" and hurt myself in the process, it would have taken me weeks to recover (trust me, I've tried that...many times, actually). Instead, by treating myself kindly and honoring my ability to know myself, I will swim again, maybe even tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then definitely the day after.
My recovery time is shortened because I no longer fight to succeed in spite of weakness. I let myself be weak and don't deride myself for my limits, even when it's hard, even when I want to.
I repent. I say "thank you" when I want to complain. I trust that He knows even when I don't understand. I float when I can't stroke until the energy comes back again and I move forward. This is a good feeling. Good in my bones, good in my muscles, and, yes, good in my thoughts.
After all, it is all in my head.
What messages do you need to "flip" upside-down today? How do you need to "go gentler" with yourself?
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
How badly do you want it?
This post could also be titled, "careful what you wish for."
My husband, my dear, sweet, amazing husband, is working tonight. Like he has every night recently, even on Sundays, his one day off per week.
Tonight was supposed to be our date night, but he got stuck at work. He hasn't seen the kids for three days because work has pulled him out of town. When he is in town, he works nights, so he rarely sees them anyway. He and I see eachother in the morning, when I'm leaving to take the kids to school, a kiss on the cheek as I walk out the door.
Am I complaining? Maybe. Just a little. If I'm honest. But I'm also just sharing. Because I'm so proud of him.
He's willing to make the hard sacrifices in the short term to get where we want to be, as a family, in the long term. That's what love is (sacrificial). And that's what a husband does (provide). Even when it's hard. Even when it hurts.
I have to be honest: we've had a love/hate relationship with money since we got married. At times, we didn't think it mattered, so we ignored it. At other times, we loved having it and spent it like crazy (trips to Vegas anyone?). At still other times, we've had none, and I do mean none, and we've had to learn how to appreciate it for what it is:
A gift. And a tool.
We've also had an ambivalent relationship to 'provision'. At times, we've felt like it's our job to 'get her done'. At other times, we felt like God would provide no matter what we did or did not do. At still other times, times like now, we know it's both more, and less, complicated than that.
Now, after nearly a year of unemployment and living in the absolute hardest circumstances either of us have ever experienced, we are both so grateful for work. Any work. Even work that keeps us apart.
Our journey has humbled us tremendously. We no longer treat money with disrespect. Nor do we seek after it as if it is the goal. We have grown up. We want money because of what it can do for us, and what we can do with it.
In the last year we have been given countless gifts. The neighbor who showed up with groceries when we weren't sure how we were going to pay our mortgage, much less buy food. The friends who wrote checks to cover medical expenses so I could stay healthy and thrive, not just survive, during this season of being uninsured. Parents who came to our aid through gifts and short-term work. Anonymous church parishioners who asked our priests to give to a church family that needed it, without ever knowing our names or telling us theirs.
Looking back, it's surprising that we were as poor as we were. Why? Because we lived life to the fullest. Truly. Every single thing we needed, and many things that we simply wanted, showed up at exactly the right moment. If you had been watching from the outside, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you we were on food stamps, and CHIP, and unemployment, all because we couldn't find work and had to rely on help from strangers in order to survive.
Along the way, our hearts changed. We learned how to trust the One who truly provides (every good and perfect gift comes from Him, the Father of Lights...James 1:17). Now, when I think about the bills to be paid or the expenses I know are coming, I don't fixate on how to find a way. I don't look for what I can do or what Justin can do. Instead, I truly know, with all of myself, that we will have what we need. And worrying isn't going to change that fact one bit. All I have to do is ask (Matthew 6:33).
That doesn't mean we don't work or try. I do my best to be a Proverbs 31 mom. I try to manage our household with precision and efficiency, but also with balance, choosing the occasional splurge as an act of faith that I don't have to stockpile in order to be okay. Justin goes to work. I work from home in the nooks and crannies of my day, doing odd jobs here and there. We do our part, making ourselves ready and available to be a vessel of whatever gifts He chooses to give us.
Does that mean we weren't 'doing our part' during the unemployment season? No. It's not that black or white. You can't say "welfare is wrong" or "self-sufficiency is good". Both have their places, their shades of grey. Though we certainly would have preferred to be working and providing for our family on our own, we wouldn't have been changed if we had done.
We wouldn't know - like we do now - that all of our hard work matters not if it's not for the One who created labor in the first place (Genesis 4:2).
Everything we have, everything we are, is because of Him. If I need something, He will provide it (Matthew 6:25-34). There is no reason to worry.
There is no reason to worry.
There is no reason to worry.
I can imagine that many of you are hearing "but..." inside your own head right now. Yes, circumstances don't always agree with what we know to be true. That's the deal. Our circumstances might never change, but our perspectives will. If we let Him change them. I promise you that. If you give yourself over completely to Him, choosing to believe even when you don't have faith, He. will. show. up.
And if we do let Him change our perspectives, our circumstances won't matter as much. We'll find joy in whatever moment in which we find ourselves.
So what will you believe in? Facts and experiences you can't control or promises you can trust?
I've never understood a certain verse from Scripture. In fact, every time I read it - which is often - it sort of makes me angry. It goes like this:
My husband, my dear, sweet, amazing husband, is working tonight. Like he has every night recently, even on Sundays, his one day off per week.
Tonight was supposed to be our date night, but he got stuck at work. He hasn't seen the kids for three days because work has pulled him out of town. When he is in town, he works nights, so he rarely sees them anyway. He and I see eachother in the morning, when I'm leaving to take the kids to school, a kiss on the cheek as I walk out the door.
Am I complaining? Maybe. Just a little. If I'm honest. But I'm also just sharing. Because I'm so proud of him.
He's willing to make the hard sacrifices in the short term to get where we want to be, as a family, in the long term. That's what love is (sacrificial). And that's what a husband does (provide). Even when it's hard. Even when it hurts.
I have to be honest: we've had a love/hate relationship with money since we got married. At times, we didn't think it mattered, so we ignored it. At other times, we loved having it and spent it like crazy (trips to Vegas anyone?). At still other times, we've had none, and I do mean none, and we've had to learn how to appreciate it for what it is:
A gift. And a tool.
We've also had an ambivalent relationship to 'provision'. At times, we've felt like it's our job to 'get her done'. At other times, we felt like God would provide no matter what we did or did not do. At still other times, times like now, we know it's both more, and less, complicated than that.
Now, after nearly a year of unemployment and living in the absolute hardest circumstances either of us have ever experienced, we are both so grateful for work. Any work. Even work that keeps us apart.
Our journey has humbled us tremendously. We no longer treat money with disrespect. Nor do we seek after it as if it is the goal. We have grown up. We want money because of what it can do for us, and what we can do with it.
In the last year we have been given countless gifts. The neighbor who showed up with groceries when we weren't sure how we were going to pay our mortgage, much less buy food. The friends who wrote checks to cover medical expenses so I could stay healthy and thrive, not just survive, during this season of being uninsured. Parents who came to our aid through gifts and short-term work. Anonymous church parishioners who asked our priests to give to a church family that needed it, without ever knowing our names or telling us theirs.
Looking back, it's surprising that we were as poor as we were. Why? Because we lived life to the fullest. Truly. Every single thing we needed, and many things that we simply wanted, showed up at exactly the right moment. If you had been watching from the outside, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you we were on food stamps, and CHIP, and unemployment, all because we couldn't find work and had to rely on help from strangers in order to survive.
Along the way, our hearts changed. We learned how to trust the One who truly provides (every good and perfect gift comes from Him, the Father of Lights...James 1:17). Now, when I think about the bills to be paid or the expenses I know are coming, I don't fixate on how to find a way. I don't look for what I can do or what Justin can do. Instead, I truly know, with all of myself, that we will have what we need. And worrying isn't going to change that fact one bit. All I have to do is ask (Matthew 6:33).
That doesn't mean we don't work or try. I do my best to be a Proverbs 31 mom. I try to manage our household with precision and efficiency, but also with balance, choosing the occasional splurge as an act of faith that I don't have to stockpile in order to be okay. Justin goes to work. I work from home in the nooks and crannies of my day, doing odd jobs here and there. We do our part, making ourselves ready and available to be a vessel of whatever gifts He chooses to give us.
Does that mean we weren't 'doing our part' during the unemployment season? No. It's not that black or white. You can't say "welfare is wrong" or "self-sufficiency is good". Both have their places, their shades of grey. Though we certainly would have preferred to be working and providing for our family on our own, we wouldn't have been changed if we had done.
We wouldn't know - like we do now - that all of our hard work matters not if it's not for the One who created labor in the first place (Genesis 4:2).
Everything we have, everything we are, is because of Him. If I need something, He will provide it (Matthew 6:25-34). There is no reason to worry.
There is no reason to worry.
There is no reason to worry.
I can imagine that many of you are hearing "but..." inside your own head right now. Yes, circumstances don't always agree with what we know to be true. That's the deal. Our circumstances might never change, but our perspectives will. If we let Him change them. I promise you that. If you give yourself over completely to Him, choosing to believe even when you don't have faith, He. will. show. up.
And if we do let Him change our perspectives, our circumstances won't matter as much. We'll find joy in whatever moment in which we find ourselves.
So what will you believe in? Facts and experiences you can't control or promises you can trust?
I've never understood a certain verse from Scripture. In fact, every time I read it - which is often - it sort of makes me angry. It goes like this:
"The lions may grow weak and hungry,
but those who seek the Lord will lack no good thing."
Psalm 34:10
"How can that be true?" I think to myself. I know many people who seek the Lord but who, from our limited perspective anyway, seem to be lacking in lots of good things. Food, shelter...you only have to look abroad, or down the street, or next door, or in your own house, to know that not everyone is taken care of in the way that I would want, or you would want, or we would want.
But I'm not God, am I? I don't see everything clearly.
I still don't understand it all, but I can tell you this...I'm thankful for this season of poverty and lack.
I'm thankful that I had to wonder how we would feed our kids and cry out to God with everything I had. I'm thankful that I had to confess our situation to our neighbors, shattering any delusion of pride or plenty. I'm thankful that I got to experience life from a different perspective, one I've heretofore only witnessed as an outside observer, sympathetic and condescending, even when I wasn't meaning to be.
I'm thankful that I had to get to the end of myself, again, in a way I never thought possible, because it's there that I once again found God. And now I know Him far better. What's more, I trust Him in ways I could never have imagined trusting. I don't need to understand as much anymore; I simply need to believe.
So yes, the lions may go hungry, but they will also lack no. good. thing.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Childlike Faith
Forgive me.
I'm going to use rather common metaphors to illustrate some revelations God has been slowly working into my consciousness. I hate over-used imagery, but it's what He's doing so here it is.
This morning, my three-year-old daughter Lilian strolled into my bedroom at 5:30.
Did you catch that? 5:30. In the morning!
We normally wake up around 7 so I was, naturally, concerned. What in the blankety-blank could she want at such an ungodly hour?
It turns out her need for me was legitimate. There was a potty issue and a "my back hurts" issue and who knows what else. It was pre-dawn, people; I had a hard time focusing. Needless to say, I tended to her needs with bleary eyes and then pulled her into bed with me, shushing her so that she wouldn't wake up Big Brother (down the hall) or Daddy (one pillow over). I informed her of the task at hand in one simple word: "sleep."
She's three, and she was up, so sleep was most definitely not her top priority. But being with me was. When I tried to get her to go back to her own bed, being way too tired to get up and carry her there myself, she politely refused, opting instead to snuggle under Mommy & Daddy's covers and pretend to sleep just so that she could be near us.
I drifted in and out of consciousness for the next thirty minutes until I finally rolled my you-know-what out of bed, but in my half-awake state I noticed one, simple thing.
My daughter has to be touching me.
Constantly. Preferably with as much of her body as she can. Arms, legs, fingertips, noses, torsos...you name it, she crushed it up against me. I was tickled, patted, snuggled, held, combed...you get the picture. When I turned away from her (I was tired people! Cut me some slack!), she would immediately snuggle up close and throw her arms around me, her tiny limb barely making over my mountain of a profile.
Even in my tired state, I thought, "that's pretty adorable."
And I also thought: "she sure knows how to get her needs met, doesn't she?"
This is something I've often thought about Lily. If she needs something, she goes and gets it. If she can't, then she'll either figure it out or find someone who can help her.
Gunnar, my four-year-old son, also has no problem expressing his needs and wants. He's just a little more dependent when it comes to getting them met. He wants Mommy to do it for him, more often than not (thought that's changing as he gets older), but not Lily. She's been like this since she was a baby. A laid back, low key, get-her-done type of gal. I really like that about her.
While I've reflected on this aspect of her personality a lot, I had yet to extrapolate to a greater truth. Until this morning. In the pre-dawn hours. In my half-awake state. In that moment, it hit me:
Children never apologize for their needs or wants.
And they never hesitate to ask me to meet or fulfill them.
Obviously, this made me think of God. Am I that childlike with my Father? Do I do whatever it takes to get close to Him, snuggling into the nooks and crannies of His frame with unashamed abandon?
But more than thinking of God, Lily's snuggles made me think of my human relationships. It takes trust to put your needs and wants out there, to feel safe enough to express them without fearing reprisal.
My children don't think I'll make fun of them or deny them out of spite. They expect me to take care of them. What's more, they expect me to want to.
Do I expect the same of the people that love me, the people I love? Am I willing to be so open that I am not self-conscious in how I relate to them?
I know I'm not. I'm way too afraid. What will they think of me? Will they hate me, find me needy and annoying, think I'm self-centered, and, ultimately, grow so weary of taking care of me that they leave, in the name of something big and adult like 'boundaries'?*
Or will they - will I - love with abandon in a way that makes me go to the Lord to find the energy I need to give to those who need it?
I'm in a process with this. Not sure exactly where I'll land, if anywhere. It will probably continue to be a process. But I know this morning's tangible picture of Lily smashed up against my backside with her arm thrown over my shoulder won't soon leave me. When the time comes, and I really need it, will I be able to smash myself up against a friend or family member, giving and receiving love with all of myself? I can only hope so.
*Just a quick note to clarify: I definitely believe in boundaries. We need to be able to self-love in order to love outwardly. But I also think we often put up too many roadblocks to authenticity and that, sometimes, we could use a little abandon where the boundary walls have become too thick.
Linking up with Soli Deo Gloria today, because it's Tuesday. :)
I'm going to use rather common metaphors to illustrate some revelations God has been slowly working into my consciousness. I hate over-used imagery, but it's what He's doing so here it is.
This morning, my three-year-old daughter Lilian strolled into my bedroom at 5:30.
Did you catch that? 5:30. In the morning!
We normally wake up around 7 so I was, naturally, concerned. What in the blankety-blank could she want at such an ungodly hour?
It turns out her need for me was legitimate. There was a potty issue and a "my back hurts" issue and who knows what else. It was pre-dawn, people; I had a hard time focusing. Needless to say, I tended to her needs with bleary eyes and then pulled her into bed with me, shushing her so that she wouldn't wake up Big Brother (down the hall) or Daddy (one pillow over). I informed her of the task at hand in one simple word: "sleep."
She's three, and she was up, so sleep was most definitely not her top priority. But being with me was. When I tried to get her to go back to her own bed, being way too tired to get up and carry her there myself, she politely refused, opting instead to snuggle under Mommy & Daddy's covers and pretend to sleep just so that she could be near us.
I drifted in and out of consciousness for the next thirty minutes until I finally rolled my you-know-what out of bed, but in my half-awake state I noticed one, simple thing.
My daughter has to be touching me.
Constantly. Preferably with as much of her body as she can. Arms, legs, fingertips, noses, torsos...you name it, she crushed it up against me. I was tickled, patted, snuggled, held, combed...you get the picture. When I turned away from her (I was tired people! Cut me some slack!), she would immediately snuggle up close and throw her arms around me, her tiny limb barely making over my mountain of a profile.
Even in my tired state, I thought, "that's pretty adorable."
And I also thought: "she sure knows how to get her needs met, doesn't she?"
This is something I've often thought about Lily. If she needs something, she goes and gets it. If she can't, then she'll either figure it out or find someone who can help her.
Gunnar, my four-year-old son, also has no problem expressing his needs and wants. He's just a little more dependent when it comes to getting them met. He wants Mommy to do it for him, more often than not (thought that's changing as he gets older), but not Lily. She's been like this since she was a baby. A laid back, low key, get-her-done type of gal. I really like that about her.
While I've reflected on this aspect of her personality a lot, I had yet to extrapolate to a greater truth. Until this morning. In the pre-dawn hours. In my half-awake state. In that moment, it hit me:
Children never apologize for their needs or wants.
And they never hesitate to ask me to meet or fulfill them.
Obviously, this made me think of God. Am I that childlike with my Father? Do I do whatever it takes to get close to Him, snuggling into the nooks and crannies of His frame with unashamed abandon?
But more than thinking of God, Lily's snuggles made me think of my human relationships. It takes trust to put your needs and wants out there, to feel safe enough to express them without fearing reprisal.
My children don't think I'll make fun of them or deny them out of spite. They expect me to take care of them. What's more, they expect me to want to.
Do I expect the same of the people that love me, the people I love? Am I willing to be so open that I am not self-conscious in how I relate to them?
I know I'm not. I'm way too afraid. What will they think of me? Will they hate me, find me needy and annoying, think I'm self-centered, and, ultimately, grow so weary of taking care of me that they leave, in the name of something big and adult like 'boundaries'?*
Or will they - will I - love with abandon in a way that makes me go to the Lord to find the energy I need to give to those who need it?
I'm in a process with this. Not sure exactly where I'll land, if anywhere. It will probably continue to be a process. But I know this morning's tangible picture of Lily smashed up against my backside with her arm thrown over my shoulder won't soon leave me. When the time comes, and I really need it, will I be able to smash myself up against a friend or family member, giving and receiving love with all of myself? I can only hope so.
*Just a quick note to clarify: I definitely believe in boundaries. We need to be able to self-love in order to love outwardly. But I also think we often put up too many roadblocks to authenticity and that, sometimes, we could use a little abandon where the boundary walls have become too thick.
Linking up with Soli Deo Gloria today, because it's Tuesday. :)
Ramblings & What Not
Hi.
I'm supposed to write a post today.
Let me explain that: technically, I should write a post every Monday or Tuesday, so that it will be ready for my weekly link-up with the online community called Soli Deo Gloria. Somehow, I never quite 'get her done' that early in the week, so here I am.
Furthermore, I'm "supposed" to write a post today because that's where I hear God leading. I sat down with Him this morning, at my computer, as I do every Tuesday and Thursday, ready to work on my novel. No. Eager to work on my novel. I'm loving the flow right now and can't wait to get to it whenever I have a spare moment.
(Side note: for those of you keeping track, I'm on revision two of my first novel. I've written it, revised it, gotten feedback, and now I'm revising again. This is the best iteration yet. I really like it! Woo-hoo! Feel free to give a little cheer in my honor.)
So, back to my point, I sat down, ready to go, and heard the Lord say, "write a post."
Ugh, I thought.
"About what?" I asked. No clear answer, just the same voice I hear saying in my head, "write a post."
Now I realize that it's rather brave of me, if I do say so myself, to put out there, for the entire blog world to read, that I hear voices in my head. (And what's more, I sometimes listen to them....) But, I figure we all hear voices; we just don't normally talk about it out loud, to other people, who might think you're, you know, unbalanced.
Don't worry, I'm definitely unbalanced. You don't have to wonder about it; I can just about guarantee it.
That might be where I am, but it's not where I'm going. I'm in a lifelong journey toward balance, a journey that involves seasons of pendulum swings, settled equilibrium, steps forward, leaps backward. If I were to claim that I've achieved it, I'd be lieing. I'm closer than I was but not as close as I can be. How's that for clarity?
I seek balance because I truly believe that that's where God lives. Some wouldn't agree with me. They'd point out how radical Jesus was (is), and they'd be right as well. They'd interpret the word 'balance' to mean compromise, 'tolerance' as relativism, and 'grace' as giving in. We're supposed to fight for truth and justice, after all.
Like I said, there are aspects of those interpretations that I agree with. As Christians, we are called to stand up for something greater and not apologize for it. But we can't pretend to understand it completely, to understand Him or this journey called Christen-dom.
Since we don't know everything, can't know everything, we have to be open to other ideas, interpretations. We need to be genuinely sensitive to other perspectives, allowing for the possibility that we might not see the whole picture. And we need to be willing to meet in the middle in order to function as a whole body, not a fractured one.
I guess when I talk about balance I'm not just referring to support, where beams must be placed strategically on all sides of a structure in order to make it stand upright. And I'm not just referencing that 'happy place' between anger and euphoria, where one can receive what the world gives without becoming controlled by it.
I'm speaking about a space of grace where not everything has to fit together and have its place. A space where I can serve a radical, fierce God and a God that pulls me toward tolerance and grace. A lover and a fighter all rolled into one.
Ultimately, I'm talking about a place where I do not have to understand. Where questions can go unanswered. Where the unknown can remain unknown and I can be okay with it.
Balance is a fluid place. Like a tree that bends in the wind, we have to be willing to move in order to be able to stand.
In this space, faith prevails and grace abides.
So I don't have to know what to write about, exactly; I just have to write.
Where's your balance? What does God call you toward that helps hold you upright in good times and bad? Can you remain in a space of incongruities and simply let it be?
I'm supposed to write a post today.
Let me explain that: technically, I should write a post every Monday or Tuesday, so that it will be ready for my weekly link-up with the online community called Soli Deo Gloria. Somehow, I never quite 'get her done' that early in the week, so here I am.
Furthermore, I'm "supposed" to write a post today because that's where I hear God leading. I sat down with Him this morning, at my computer, as I do every Tuesday and Thursday, ready to work on my novel. No. Eager to work on my novel. I'm loving the flow right now and can't wait to get to it whenever I have a spare moment.
(Side note: for those of you keeping track, I'm on revision two of my first novel. I've written it, revised it, gotten feedback, and now I'm revising again. This is the best iteration yet. I really like it! Woo-hoo! Feel free to give a little cheer in my honor.)
So, back to my point, I sat down, ready to go, and heard the Lord say, "write a post."
Ugh, I thought.
"About what?" I asked. No clear answer, just the same voice I hear saying in my head, "write a post."
Now I realize that it's rather brave of me, if I do say so myself, to put out there, for the entire blog world to read, that I hear voices in my head. (And what's more, I sometimes listen to them....) But, I figure we all hear voices; we just don't normally talk about it out loud, to other people, who might think you're, you know, unbalanced.
Don't worry, I'm definitely unbalanced. You don't have to wonder about it; I can just about guarantee it.
That might be where I am, but it's not where I'm going. I'm in a lifelong journey toward balance, a journey that involves seasons of pendulum swings, settled equilibrium, steps forward, leaps backward. If I were to claim that I've achieved it, I'd be lieing. I'm closer than I was but not as close as I can be. How's that for clarity?
I seek balance because I truly believe that that's where God lives. Some wouldn't agree with me. They'd point out how radical Jesus was (is), and they'd be right as well. They'd interpret the word 'balance' to mean compromise, 'tolerance' as relativism, and 'grace' as giving in. We're supposed to fight for truth and justice, after all.
Like I said, there are aspects of those interpretations that I agree with. As Christians, we are called to stand up for something greater and not apologize for it. But we can't pretend to understand it completely, to understand Him or this journey called Christen-dom.
Since we don't know everything, can't know everything, we have to be open to other ideas, interpretations. We need to be genuinely sensitive to other perspectives, allowing for the possibility that we might not see the whole picture. And we need to be willing to meet in the middle in order to function as a whole body, not a fractured one.
I guess when I talk about balance I'm not just referring to support, where beams must be placed strategically on all sides of a structure in order to make it stand upright. And I'm not just referencing that 'happy place' between anger and euphoria, where one can receive what the world gives without becoming controlled by it.
I'm speaking about a space of grace where not everything has to fit together and have its place. A space where I can serve a radical, fierce God and a God that pulls me toward tolerance and grace. A lover and a fighter all rolled into one.
Ultimately, I'm talking about a place where I do not have to understand. Where questions can go unanswered. Where the unknown can remain unknown and I can be okay with it.
Balance is a fluid place. Like a tree that bends in the wind, we have to be willing to move in order to be able to stand.
In this space, faith prevails and grace abides.
So I don't have to know what to write about, exactly; I just have to write.
Where's your balance? What does God call you toward that helps hold you upright in good times and bad? Can you remain in a space of incongruities and simply let it be?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Holy Yoga
I'm back. I know, I've missed you too. But, to be honest, I've stayed away on purpose. There have been a few posts here and there, of course, just to let you know I'm alive, but I haven't been present. Not really. I've been avoiding you. There. I said it. And that's the truth.
Why?
I'll tell you. Since round-about July I've felt this little tug on my heart, the Holy Spirit gently pulling at the edges of me to do something I absolutely, positively do not want to do. And since I didn't want to go where He is calling me, I simply avoided the issue altogether. (You can't relate, can you?)
What was the tug?
Exposure
Vulnerability.
Authenticity.
There are things I don't talk about. Things from my past that I, honestly, don't know how to talk about. Not yet. But I come here and I write and I give...parts of myself. I package my pain and hide the truly awful parts behind the only sort-of embarrassing moments. I let you see what I want you to see in a way that I know will impress. You'll say, "wow, thank you for sharing," or, "thank you for being so vulnerable."
I am being vulnerable, truthfully I am, but there's more. There's more that I don't want to share. There's more that is so painful, still, that I can't even go there inside my own head, much less in this completely public forum called a blog.
Last weekend I went to a retreat. The Soli Deo Gloria retreat put on by my dear friend Jennifer Ferguson. We're a community of female bloggers that link up every Tuesday. Some of us also meet "boots on the ground" at Jen's Bible Study Monday mornings at St. Luke's on the Lake, Austin, Texas. Some of us are just friends who became part of this group because another friend invited us. Our purpose is to serve Christ and encourage one another.
The retreat blew me away, and I highly recommend that you join us - online, at church, or at our next gathering. It's amazing what happens when we retreat, when we leave the noise of our lives and create a space to meet with God. He loves community. He loves vulnerability. He loves to use us to help one another. ("As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17) If we stay in our hiddenness, we remain dull.
On Saturday afternoon at the retreat a wonderful woman from Ignite came in to lead us in a yoga class. She led us through a series of postures, half of which help you physically open your chest to make room for your heart. She kept saying, "lift your heart".
I kept thinking, "I can't lift my heart to you, God, if I remain closed." There has to be a willingness to become vulnerable for there to be space to reach for Him.
Interestingly enough, it's these poses in yoga that are the 'energetic' poses. As I bent my head, shoulders, chest backwards, imagining my heart connected by a string to the ceiling above me, I could feel energy pulsing throughout my body. It's when I let go and exposed my vulnerable place that strength coursed through me.
So, I will keep meeting you here. I will try to be as authentic as possible, bringing all of myself into this space. I'm sure it won't look pretty at times, I'm sure I will "fail" and be less than authentic, but I'll keep trying. And I know that He will honor it, just as He does whenever we choose to trust in Him.
Linking up with Soli Deo Gloria this week.
Why?
I'll tell you. Since round-about July I've felt this little tug on my heart, the Holy Spirit gently pulling at the edges of me to do something I absolutely, positively do not want to do. And since I didn't want to go where He is calling me, I simply avoided the issue altogether. (You can't relate, can you?)
What was the tug?
Exposure
Vulnerability.
Authenticity.
There are things I don't talk about. Things from my past that I, honestly, don't know how to talk about. Not yet. But I come here and I write and I give...parts of myself. I package my pain and hide the truly awful parts behind the only sort-of embarrassing moments. I let you see what I want you to see in a way that I know will impress. You'll say, "wow, thank you for sharing," or, "thank you for being so vulnerable."
I am being vulnerable, truthfully I am, but there's more. There's more that I don't want to share. There's more that is so painful, still, that I can't even go there inside my own head, much less in this completely public forum called a blog.
Last weekend I went to a retreat. The Soli Deo Gloria retreat put on by my dear friend Jennifer Ferguson. We're a community of female bloggers that link up every Tuesday. Some of us also meet "boots on the ground" at Jen's Bible Study Monday mornings at St. Luke's on the Lake, Austin, Texas. Some of us are just friends who became part of this group because another friend invited us. Our purpose is to serve Christ and encourage one another.
The retreat blew me away, and I highly recommend that you join us - online, at church, or at our next gathering. It's amazing what happens when we retreat, when we leave the noise of our lives and create a space to meet with God. He loves community. He loves vulnerability. He loves to use us to help one another. ("As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17) If we stay in our hiddenness, we remain dull.
On Saturday afternoon at the retreat a wonderful woman from Ignite came in to lead us in a yoga class. She led us through a series of postures, half of which help you physically open your chest to make room for your heart. She kept saying, "lift your heart".
I kept thinking, "I can't lift my heart to you, God, if I remain closed." There has to be a willingness to become vulnerable for there to be space to reach for Him.
Interestingly enough, it's these poses in yoga that are the 'energetic' poses. As I bent my head, shoulders, chest backwards, imagining my heart connected by a string to the ceiling above me, I could feel energy pulsing throughout my body. It's when I let go and exposed my vulnerable place that strength coursed through me.
So, I will keep meeting you here. I will try to be as authentic as possible, bringing all of myself into this space. I'm sure it won't look pretty at times, I'm sure I will "fail" and be less than authentic, but I'll keep trying. And I know that He will honor it, just as He does whenever we choose to trust in Him.
Linking up with Soli Deo Gloria this week.
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