One of the most often repeated lies people share with me in terms of what they think about themselves is that they are worthless. This has been communicated by various people in their lives, or by their own definition time and time again. Sometimes they feel they should be at a different place in their lives and that would give worth. Sometimes they believe if they had worked hard enough to make people like them that this would give them worth. Sometimes they have been told that their only worth lies in their being used for whatever purpose the user desires, and that they will lose worth if they stop allowing someone to use them.
Worth is not transactional. It is not given when we earn it. A person doesn’t gain worth the more they achieve, relate to others, or give. Some people try to convince themselves they have worth, but it is usually based in something they have to believe about themselves. When someone communicates they are not worth their time, the façade is gone and we struggle to believe we have worth apart from what others communicate.
When we experience rejection while trying to find someone to communicate worth, any sense of having worth is obliterated as we have placed the definition on a person or place in this world. It is gut-wrenching, and feels like death.
We had a crazy windstorm last week with almost 24 hours of intense wind gusts and the resulting damages—trees falling, fences knocked down, various lawn chairs and trampolines blown away. I’ve never been through a hurricane on the coast, and I realized what people talk about with the sheer noise wind can create. My husband had to wear earplugs to sleep, and the howling and crashing went on all night.
At some point during the night, I woke up and listened to the wind for a bit while lying in bed. It dawned on me that this was what the disciples felt when they were out in the boat with Jesus, except they were on a boat tossed by the waves rather than a warm bed in a safe house. I imagined the fear and panic that would govern in a situation like that. They were pretty sure they were going to die out there in that storm.
Jesus had been teaching about faith prior to this story told in Mark 4. When the storm comes up, he is SLEEPING. This makes no sense to us when we don’t realize that God is enough in a storm, but Jesus knew His Father was watching out for Him and didn’t need to worry or stress about anything.
God loves you. That phrase has gotten trite and feels shallow sometimes. And yet, it is anything but trite and shallow. While we hated, mocked, spat on Him, God loves us. While we ran from Him and fought any call of His to come to Him, God loves us. While we rebelled and invited more and more darkness into ourselves, God loves us. While the selfishness took over to distort us into maniacal narcissists, God loves us. While we postured in false humility and rode ego trips for our “good” deeds, God loves us.
God reached through the darkness with which we had surrounded ourselves, calling our names and extending His hand to pull us out of the pit. We didn’t know Him, but He knew us. He knew every bit of us and still chose to love us. He loved us to death, and to resurrection in power. Jesus walked the road of ultimate sacrifice, knowing what was in each of us and how we chose our own way. He looked past it and loved anyway. He never stops loving. We simply need to accept the love.
I have been thinking about how cool it is that we take a safe place with us no matter where we go. We are similar to snails—they carry their home on their backs, ready to pull into a shell whenever things get scary. The difference is that our safe place is within, and we can access it any time without physically moving. God no longer dwells in a temple made with hands, but in His people. (1 Corinthians 6:19-20) He has given us His Spirit, and His very Life within.
We are in Christ, and Christ is in us. We contain the wrap-around presence of God within us all the time. It’s kind of a cool picture, isn’t it? We carry Him, and He wraps around us and shelters us as well. So many things with God’s kingdom are both/and. His Life is in us, and we are in Him.
You don’t have to keep running.
You don’t have to keep fighting.
You don’t have to keep searching for the “cure.”
You don’t have to keep trying.
I know you are tired,
And ache for something more.
I know you just want to sit down,
Letting the weight you’re carrying fall.
The idea that you will get a place
Where it makes sense to rest
Is a fallacy and will continue to drive you
Crazy and exhausted and weary.
You don’t have to keep running.
You don’t have to keep fighting.
You don’t have to keep searching for the “cure.”
You don’t have to keep trying.
I know you are tired,
And ache for something more.
I know you just want to sit down,
Letting the weight you’re carrying fall.
The idea that you will get a place
Where it makes sense to rest
Is a fallacy and will continue to drive you
Crazy and exhausted and weary.
Rest is almost a foreign concept in our culture these days. We are so busy, and fill our lives constantly with productivity, hoping that the busyness will make us feel strong, superior or like we are at least doing life in a way that makes others think we have some value. I think sometimes we are trying to prove ourselves worthy of our own lives. We run at such a pace that we don’t have to stop and think, fostering true relationship or accepting the peace that rest brings.
Rest has almost become equated with laziness. I think often of how in Luke 10, Jesus spoke to Martha when Mary was sitting at His feet, and I wonder how anything practical was supposed to get done with people just sitting around! I would have had the same exasperation as Martha, and have had it in moments of stressful preparation. Jesus wasn’t criticizing Martha’s practical bent, I think, but rather saying that work must come from a source of rest, intimacy and relationship.
Sometimes I believe I have a handle on all that I need to get done in a day, and I’m stressed immediately with anything I see as an interruption in this schedule I see as necessary to get so much accomplished. I think God might purposefully send me interruptions on these days in order to remind me that productivity is not its own source. I must have something that provides strength, wisdom and direction, or I’m just spinning my wheels to accomplish what I have put on my list.
This last week I got to speak to a MOPS group about anxiety, and the impossible standards or expectations we so often place on ourselves that result in this anxiety and overwhelm. I thought it might be helpful to share some of this here on a blog post as well, as I know it isn’t just moms who struggle with these feelings.
As I was flipping through social media recently, I found “10 Things You Are Doing Wrong With Your Kids”, “5 Ways To Make Your Body Look Like You Never Had a Baby “(not really, but that’s what they were saying), “3 Things to Do Right Now With Your House To Make It Look Like a Designer Lives There”, “What Your Husband Really Wants and How You Can Be That Desirable”, and (maybe the worst) “What God Wants You To Do To Be The Best Christian You Can Be.“ I know this kind of pressure isn’t just found on social media, but can come from impossible standards you feel from your parents, your church, yourself, and God.
I like to identify these expectations we put on ourselves so we can choose to do something different, and to listen to a different voice. There are so many voices that scream at us about what we should be doing, what we should be afraid of, and what we are doing wrong. I want to be a voice that reminds us all that God never put these expectations on us—we did that ourselves or accepted the ones that others put on us.
Do you ever feel burned out? Like you’d just like to pack up and run away from your life? Maybe it’s work, or maybe it’s the kids, the marriage, the bills, the house issues, the health problems, the recovery from trauma. It kind of feels like a little kid running to hide under the covers to protect them from the monsters in the closet—it probably won’t really change anything to run away, but it feels like it might be helpful somehow.
I feel that way sometimes. I want to hide from the parts of my life that feel too hard, too painful, too much work. Hiding doesn’t fix them, but at times it feels like the only way to deal with it all.
The communication from the world is generally—keep going, don’t quit. The communication from the church sometimes is—keep working, don’t let anyone see you are hurting. The communication from our own selves is—keep trying, your worth is tied up in not quitting.
I am invited into a friendship.
The kind I’ve not known before.
No rejection or conditions,
And weakness is my qualification.
My Shepherd wants to take my cares,
My worries, my struggles, my fears.
He lifts them off my shoulders—
I feel so lightened and free!
My Shepherd is tender and gentle.
He catches every tear in my eyes.
He is compassionate and caring,
Never impatient or condemning.
My Shepherd is an oasis of refreshment.
He nourishes and provides for every need.
He ushers in the weary,
To renew their strength and help them walk.
Have you asked someone how they are doing and had the common response “busy”? I know I’ve given it myself, and it’s supposed to imply that you are important and productive. Except we forget that just because we are busy doesn’t mean we are doing what God has called us to do. That’s a tough one to admit sometimes. In the North American culture, we equate busyness with productivity and worth. It’s not the same, though, and really hinders many of us from entering God’s rest and understanding our worth as defined by Him.
I have learned that when I am getting overwhelmed or stressed because my life is too full, I need to stop and ask a few questions:
1. Am I called to do this? Of course, I am called to Jesus first, not to a task. But from there, sometimes God calls us to do something, and sometimes He doesn’t. When we assume that everything that’s in front of us is a calling, we can tend to get overcommitted and overwhelmed. First, we stop, slow down and really question God on whether or not this task or commitment is something He has for us, or if we are taking it on to try to prove worth or meaning.
When Joshua and the Israelites had conquered the land for seven years, they set up the place of worship to God at Shiloh. It had been a crazy time, watching miracles of waters parted, major enemies defeated by the power of God, and some pretty rough losses as well when they didn’t do things as God had directed. Shiloh means whole, sound, quiet, secure, health or abundance. This sounds like a good place to me, especially to get away and just have time with the God who was leading their nation.
I often want this quiet place to get away, and sometimes I get time for it. But what I fail to realize when I focus on a place is that Jesus is our Shiloh now, and I can go anytime I want as He lives within me. I want the place of worship to be external, and sometimes it is. But no one can take that access from me, even if a church is destroyed, circumstances have limited us, or we feel as though we are imprisoned.
Edith Eger wrote about her time in a concentration camp during World War 2 in her book The Choice. What she credits with getting her through this time of horror was something her mother told her before they were imprisoned: Just remember, no one can take away from you what you've put in your own mind. She kept pushing into the internal because she couldn’t find freedom in the external.
Anyone else a little weary? I find myself tired sometimes before I even start the day. Political conflict, divisive arguing, virus protection and discussion, people’s problems and our own—all of it makes us exhausted and spent very quickly.
Sometimes, I forget to remember that my worth is not defined by productivity, or stick-to-it-ness. Sometimes when I’m weary, I end up berating myself with guilt on top of things—and it’s a terrible perfect storm to make it even worse. Instead of walking in step with Jesus, and being the branch on the Vine that requires His Life to do anything that sows into the Spirit-life, I get distracted thinking it’s all up to me and I better get with it. As much as that looks like sowing good seed, it’s actually my flesh trying to sort it out on my own, and it’s unproductive.
I was chatting with a friend recently who gave me a great reminder. She told me that her friend had made her a little sign that asked “What are we doing today, Jesus?” My friend hung it across from her bed, so every morning when she woke up, it was the first thing she saw. What a difference it makes to wake up in step with Jesus and to keep coming back to that, rather than pushing off on our own agenda of what we think we need to accomplish today.
Just keep walking, a little step at a time.
Sometimes that’s all I’ve got to do.
One foot in front of the other,
Without knowing what is next,
I just keep walking and waiting
For the way God’s making ahead.
Some days the walking seems drudgery,
And I want to stop and rest.
He reminds me that rest is constant,
If I will just trust Him and ask for His strength.
So, one foot in front of the other,
Walking continually onward.
When Moses walked forward, the Red Sea parted,
Giving God’s people an escape.
When Joshua walked forward, the lands were given,
Everything his feet walked on was theirs.
When Jesus walked forward, the water held him up,
Showing how nature worships its Creator.
When I walk forward, I am tuning my ear,
Listening for God to call out right or left.
He often doesn’t give me the whole set of directions,
But directs as the moment calls for it.
Sometimes I stomp my feet at this waiting,
Wanting control and knowledge rather than dependence and trust.
As we close out 2019, I am reflecting on the word God gave me this year. I don’t do a word for the year often, but this one was incredibly prominent throughout the year for me. He gave me the word “rest” and I wanted to tell you what He’s taught me about rest this year.
When God first told me that “rest” was the theme for the year, I laughed because of all I had to accomplish this year. It was not the year I would have picked for rest. But what He was showing me was that rest wasn’t about what I had to do, but the Source from which I operated. When I realize that everything I need for the Christian life comes from the Life of Christ within, I don’t have to overexert, overcommit, or overwork to try to make it all happen.
I recently watched a TED talk in which Shawn Achor discussed happiness and success. He pointed out that if we measure happiness by successes in our life and external determiners, we have to keep upping the ante. Thus, we are never really happy. If we reach the goal that determines success, we have to push the standard higher or come up with a new goal. We start over and are always lacking. If, however, we turn it around and learn to be content in our circumstances, we can be happy before we become “successful” in whatever terms we use for that.
Sometimes I throw temper tantrums about my life.I might as well be a 2-year-old with the fits I can have concerning all the things I feel I should not have to be experiencing, the comparisons I make to find myself lacking, and the struggles of others I want to wish away. I get mad at God, at the situation and at myself. It’s really hard for me to understand rest in the middle of struggle.
Do you ever feel the pressure of living out your calling, and wonder how you are going to be what everyone needs or wants you to be? How are you going to raise these kids? How are you going to preach on Sunday? How are you going to show up to a marriage which requires so much? How are you going to do one more day in a menial, thankless job that barely pays the bills? How are you going to love a person in your life who keeps responding in bitterness? How are you going to listen to the question of an aging parent and answer with patience for the hundredth time today?
I don’t know about you, but I often forget the incredible pursuit of the love of God. I forget that He reached out to us while we hated Him, while we were sinners—our filthy rags of “righteousness” and of outright rebellion all mixed together in a mess and even still He did not turn away. He walked right into that mess and declared Himself victor as He willingly laid down His Life.
January and February are not my favorite months of the year. They are still definitely winter, but the fun of the Christmas season is over and they often just seem bleak and cold to me. I thrive in spring and summer—the green shoots coming up that I’ve planted and nurtured, the warmth of the air and the smell of new life.Recently, though, God’s been reminding me of the importance of winter.
So many people I’ve talked to recently speak of feeling “beat up” especially after the holidays. Family time has been scathing and torturous rather than enjoyable. Relationships you thought you could count on have turned on you and left you feeling betrayed. The days you looked forward to because of what they are “supposed to be” as portrayed by our culture have stung you like a scorpion hiding in a shoe.
