God of the messy and the inconsistent,
God of the distracted and ashamed,
God of the broken-hearted and grieving,
God of the discouraged and anxious—
Thank you as we start the year afresh,
We do not fear our own weakness or lack.
That we don’t have to pretend with you,
For you already know us inside and out.
Thank you for choosing to be the God of the messy.
Thank you for not expecting us to have it all together,
Or figured out or planned ahead.
Thank you for your patience in our failings and flaws.
In the work I do with pastoral counseling, we discuss the past and the way it has shaped our view of ourselves today, as well as our views of God. I do believe there is validity in doing this analysis to a degree, as it allows us to know why we do what we do presently, and also how to do something different as we move forward. So often we need to know the problem before we can allow God to heal the problem.
I do, however, believe that there is a limit to this, as continuing to go over and over the past ends up getting our eyes on the hurts and not on the way through. We must allow God to take the hurts of the past and replace it with our new identity. He has already done this, but we get to recognize how that plays out in our lives. Instead of continuing to believe we are worthless, shameful, unloved and unacceptable, we get to move into the reality that Jesus has made us worthy, shame-free, loved enormously, and acceptable completely. The more we focus on the past, the more stuck in it we become. So, it becomes a fine line between understanding the past and the effects on today and letting the past continue to control our present and future.
Mike Wells used to say that dwelling on the past and our pain for too long is incredibly boring. We get bored just over-analyzing all of it and getting nowhere. I want better, more and new. I don’t want to allow whoever hurt me to continue to control where I go now, both mentally and physically.
I have been intrigued by David and his life quite a lot this year, and have loved watching his emotion be expressed in so many of his psalms. He is angry, sad, depressed, confused—so many emotions we tend to stuff and pretend God doesn’t want to hear about. David is very honest about all of them, and I love that God receives it. The other thing I’ve noticed about David’s writings is how much He focuses on praising God, even in the middle of less than ideal circumstances.
This man had a rough life. He was running away from people who were trying to kill him often—sometimes they were enemy armies, and sometimes they were people who were supposed to be allies but betrayed him. His own son ended up making him run for his life. David made a lot of mistakes, and the Bible is very honest about too. We are never under any fantasies of David being perfect with a perfect life. But still he praised God, and thanked Him for His love and faithfulness.
I read recently that studies have shown that anxiety and gratitude cannot coexist in your brain. If we are focusing on gratitude and praising God, even in the middle of suffering and struggle, we don’t let the anxiety have the run of our brain. Praise actually becomes one of our greatest brain weapons. We are able, no matter the circumstance, to stop and praise God. We may not be thankful for the situation, but we can thank Him for His love and faithfulness just like David did. We may be in physical pain, in mental anguish or in emotional upheaval, but we can still worship Jesus and lift our spirits. I find it fascinating that Paul and Silas in Acts (***) were singing praise to God WHILE in prison. Yes, God busted them out, but they were singing before that happened!
My friends in Haiti are isolated from the world again after the gangs fired on a commercial plane and the airport was closed this week. They were ousted from their homes for over a year while fighting raged around them and they went into hiding. They have shown up for teen and preteen kids who are watching their friends die, and who are still healing from their pasts. I am so blown away by their faithfulness.
I speak to several woman who are raising kids while dealing with debilitating illness and chronic pain in themselves. They show up for their families in the ways they can while desperately surviving their own health journeys. I know they often feel like they are failing, like they can’t do what other moms can do. But I stand in awe of their faithfulness to keep showing up.
Several years ago, my husband and I were camping in Moab, Utah with our one-year-old son. Camping is probably a generous term—we did have a pop-up camper and weren’t really roughing it. We did, however, drive about half an hour outside of town on a dirt road to the middle of nowhere, and then parked the camper at the top of a rocky hill. The views were spectacular, and we would only see another car on the dirt road about once every few hours. It was a little taste of the wilderness, with only us and our little camper. No cell service, no toilets, and no other people around.
This seemed like a fantastic experience until we decided the next day to head back into town to get a few groceries. After piling in the truck, my husband tried to start the vehicle, but it wouldn’t start. The truck’s battery was dead. And the wilderness experience that seemed like a lot of fun became quite scary.
I started to panic, wondering how we would ever get out of there. No cars came by on the road, and it was at least a day’s walk to get back into town with a one-year-old and only so much food for camping. Finally after a bit of worry, my husband brilliantly figured out that he could use the camper batteries to jump the truck battery, and we were finally moving again.
But what about the figurative wildernesses in which we find ourselves where we can’t figure a way out, and we sit and wait with no resources and no hope? Wildernesses are a real experience in life, and one which often catches us by surprise. I’m not sure why, as so many of the people in the Bible went through years and years of wilderness, sometimes figurative and sometimes quite literal. There are stories of prison, hardships, desert-living, wandering, frustration, hopelessness, disbursement and aching for home.
Sometimes the callings on our lives seem so grand and enlightening. And sometimes, they seem more like just surviving. Our week-long camping trip in southern Colorado turned out like the latter. After pulling the kids out of school, we would head off to the Great Sand Dunes for a few days, followed by Pagosa Springs and maybe the Royal Gorge if we had time. I was really looking forward to sitting in a hot springs pool for an afternoon after a stressful back-to-school month.
If you’re anything like me, there are things you give up on all the time. So many resolutions are made around New Year’s Day, and so many are discarded within a month of making them. Sometimes I give up on them because I realize there is a better way of doing things, or other times I realize the plans I had were just unrealistic altogether. I am enough of a visionary that I can plan for all sorts of wonderful changes, but the details of actually doing them can make me realize they aren’t happening.
Someone recently asked me about my definition of hope. I remember when I was first thinking about what to call this ministry, “Broken and Hopeful” came to mind instantly and my next thought was—well, that’s a stupid name. Ha! But I couldn’t get away from the name, and I believe it’s what God had for me to call it.
Of the many topics I can write about in this blog, this one made me cringe more than most. I am so grateful for the freedom God has brought me in some areas of my own addiction to pleasing others (or at least trying really hard to do so). But the way we learn to be free from this is to have people not be happy with us, or to be in a place where we can’t get acceptance no matter what we do. And as an expert people-pleaser, this meant that I had to be rejected a lot before I was willing to even entertain the idea that I needed to get my acceptance from only one being in my life—Jesus.
You wouldn’t think a little shift in perspective would change your life, but I have experienced exactly that. When we obsess on all the things we think are wrong or how we don’t have enough of something, we move to the negative and live in that mess. When we recognize Jesus even in the hard of life, we can move forward with a totally different mindset.
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.
Every couple of weeks, I attend a little ladies’ Bible study at my neighbor’s house. These women have been such a gift to me in their kindness, lack of judgement (even if I didn’t read all the homework!) and compassion in walking with each other. We are studying a series on Gideon, and I have been surprised at how much I see God’s compassion for the Israelites in some of the passages of the Old Testament. This people messed up over and over, running the opposite direction from where God had told them to go.
Waiting, waiting, waiting.Waiting for the waiting to end.Waiting for the prayer to be answered.Waiting for God to do something to bring relief.But in the frustration of waiting,Sometimes we forget to notice the meantime.For in the meantime, God brings enough for today.In the meantime, we see His strength in our weakness.
I think I will always remember the exact spot in baggage claim at the airport where I was standing when I heard the news that my second father, teacher and mentor Mike had died suddenly. My husband and I were on our way back from a trip (which Mike had used his airline miles to send us on) with our infant son.
As a little girl, I dreamed of the princess transformation like Cinderella’s done by her fairy godmother. I think even as adults, women (secretly) would love to have a magic wand waved over them to change their hair, their dress, their shoes and then whisk them off in a carriage to a ball with a handsome prince. And little boys (and sometimes girls too) dream of being the best baseball player and winning the championship, or being the strong knight in shining armor who heroically rescues the damsel in distress.
As someone who works in a people-centered career doing counseling every day, my garden is something that usually allows me to see something tangible for my efforts. There’s no point at which you can check someone off your list as being “done” but you can look at the lovely pile of spinach, carrots, tomatoes and squash and feel a real sense of accomplishment.But not this year.This year, I mourn the loss of the fruits of my garden and hope for a better season next year.
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?
A few days ago, I got caught in the funk of the “always” and “never” statements in my life. I started thinking that I would always be in this place, and circumstances will never be change. It is pretty discouraging when you start thinking this way, and often we don’t realize we are trying to play God in our own lives.
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.
I watched a show the other day in which a character was having a crisis of faith. All the things she believed about God came crashing down around her as she battled through an emotional trauma which started the whole thing. The questions sometimes seem to rise up with enough force to crush us. I talk to people often who are dealing with the same thing—questions, doubt, discontent with what God is doing or not doing.
I remember the reading of 1 Corinthians 13 in church or elsewhere as the one that made me feel most wanting. Here are all the things you are supposed to do to be loving, and I could see my failures in every place. I’m not patient. I’m not kind. I keep records of wrongs. I’m jealous. I don’t believe the best about people. I’m irritated. I’m offended. I delight in wrong sometimes. I give up on people.
We celebrate freedom in the U.S. with great fervor. Freedom is lauded as the construct which founds our country, and the ideal for which people are willing to die, to fight and to yell about on Facebook. And I agree. Freedom is phenomenal. But I would argue that most of us don’t actually live in freedom.
