Do you have a regular prayer that you repeat over and over?
Margaret Feinberg shared in her book Wonderstruck about a time she become so weary in spirit that all she could pray was:
God is good. God is on the throne. Breathe in. Breathe out.
These were the words she whispered while making snow angels in the crumbs on her kitchen floor. It’s such a vivid picture of crying out to God.
Sometimes we get to seasons that just sap us. The weight of our burdens is too heavy. It’s not that we forget how to pray. We just don’t know what to pray anymore. Words elude us. Eloquent speech isn’t possible.
A simple stanza can help, not just to recalibrate our faith and focus, but also to force us to be still and know that He is still God.
As my kids get older, as I get older, my most common breath prayer comes from Psalm 90.
The short version: “Teach me to number my days that I may gain a heart of wisdom.”
The longer version:
Lord, become my dwelling place. You are everlasting to everlasting. Teach me to number my days. Grant me a heart of wisdom. May your favor rest on us. Establish the work of our hands.
The writers of Scripture have given us so many beautiful affirmations of God’s character! We don’t need to be original. We don’t need to know what to ask for or how it all should end. We can borrow these ancient phrases, breathe them in and out, letting the truth sink into our being. Trusting our great and faithful Father to hear; trusting Jesus the Son to intercede on our behalf; trusting the Holy Spirit to translate the indecipherable mutterings of our hearts into the precise petitions that match our needs.
My life has a recurring appointment at 2am. It doesn’t take place every night. Some nights offer surprising and continuous, blessed sleep. Those are beautiful times. But most nights — I’d say three out of five for the past ten years or so — find me awake for this appointment, battling my past, my present, and all sorts of insecurities and accusations. Voices tell me I’m not enough; I’ll never be enough. They offer evidence of my failures and comparisons to others’ effortless success. They condemn without mercy, a repetitive loop of ceaseless striving and bondage.
The Apostle Paul never explicitly defined the “thorn in [his] side.” We only know it was a painful, persistent affliction he couldn’t shake. I wonder if it was like this.
On the morning after another sleepless night wrestling lies, I woke exhausted. Again. I confessed my struggle and the thoughts in my head to my ever-loving husband, tears silently leaking onto my pillow. Sometimes speaking it out loud helps. He prayed for me, over me. And then we got up to tackle another day.
Sometimes God speaks.
Shannon over at Sweet Blessings offers a really simple and impactful approach to the discipline of daily Bible time. Rather than giving a strict, multi-step regimen, she encourages Scripture writing. She publishes plans that give you just a few verses to copy from your Bible each day. That’s it. No questions; no forced pre-written prayers or contemporary devotional readings. Just writing. It’s simple, but the act of handwriting holy words breeds stillness. Contemplative moments.
This month I’m going through her ‘Birth of Christ’ plan. I have a blank journal. On one page I write the day’s Scripture. On the next page I write my observations about the passage or a prayer. Often both.
On that particular morning the writing was Isaiah 40:1–5. These verses come in the middle of a prophecy spoken by Isaiah to King Hezekiah. The verses, while directly spoken to the nation of Judah in their time, were echoed in prophetic fulfillment by John the Baptist as “a voice of one crying out” in the wilderness.
It is vital that, when studying to understand Scripture (or any literature, really), we consider first and foremost the context. That includes the original writers, the original audience, the original purpose and intent, and the culture and languages in which it was penned. But God also speaks directly to us in our day through these sacred texts. Sometimes it’s a lesson learned through their stories; sometimes it’s insight about our own. The past and the present work in holy concert to exalt Truth.
That morning as I read God’s promises to ancient Israel, the words sank deep into my weary heart.
“Comfort, comfort My people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and announce to her that her time of servitude is over, her iniquity has been pardoned…”
Isaiah 10:1–2 (HCSB)
Has my iniquity been pardoned? If I believe God’s words, YES. Christ made it so.
Consider Paul’s writings to the Romans:
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, because the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free…
Now if Christ is in you, the body is dead because of sin, but the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you, then he who raised Christ from the dead will also bring your mortal bodies to life through his Spirit who lives in you. So then, brothers and sisters, we are not obligated to the flesh to live according to the flesh…
For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear. Instead, you received the Spirit of adoption, by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father!”
Romans 8:1-2, 10–12, 15
Does any of this make any sense to you?
Small Steps Toward Realized Freedom
In that moment of reading Isaiah, my heart heard the Holy Spirit affirming Christ’s work in my life, that he saved me for something far greater than slavery to negative thoughts and burdens long forgiven. He showed me that my time of servitude ended long ago — the moment I put my trust in Him.
Have I recognized my pardon? Or am I, like a stubborn dandelion seed, still clinging to the dead and familiar rather than flying free to produce life anew?
What is the purpose of my penance? Why persist in listening to lies that oppress and keep me captive?
This sounds like a simple switch of the brain. If I just change my mind, then I won’t struggle. I wish it were that simple.
Transformation is a complicated journey, but maybe the first steps are simple. Not easy, but simple. Maybe tiny victories can be found in remembering truth and fortifying my faith with those truths.
Maybe changing my mind in the daytime can create new habits for those 2am meetings.
And maybe one day those middle-of-the-night appointments will no longer be kept.
YOUR TURN: What lies might you believe that keep you captive? What steps can you take today to realize the freedom Christ came to give?
When people hear reference to ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), they think of the dogs in the Pixar movie UP!or maybe Dory from Pixar’s Finding Nemo. (I promise not to mention Disney movies in every sentence.) Being easily distracted and forgetful may be part of it, but there’s a lot more to it than most people realize.
ADD is more complex than short attentions and memories.
In the past few years counselors and psychiatrists have begun using a new label: VAST. It stands for Variable Attention Stimulus Trait. I like this because (1) it doesn’t carry the stigma of a word like “disorder” and (2) it better describes my experience.
Yes, I can be often distracted. I interrupt myself incessantly. I’m easily overstimulated and get irritable with repetitive or conflicting noises.
And, yes, I struggle with short-term memory. (Lists and calendars save me daily! You should see my collection of notebooks.)
But my attention and my emotions ricochet to opposite ends of a spectrum. They’re not always short and interrupted. Sometimes they’re intense and insular, sacrificing all else.
I can spend seasons in hyper-focus. My husband calls it “kidnapping.” A special project or pursuit (or sometimes a book) will steal me away with little notice. I simply cannot think of anything else until I finish it. This is especially true when I set a goal about which I am passionate. It could be days; it could be weeks.
Friendships are hard for me. I can’t remember names. Interruptions and disappearances aren’t great for relationships. Knowing how hard it is for me to control these natural inclinations, I can grow self-conscious and insecure, further complicating things. Rejection, criticism, and approval resonate deeply with me, often — right or wrong — becoming part of my self-assessment immediately.
Can any of you relate to any of this?
When life gets full, the blog goes silent.
And so — When life interrupts me, when a million things seem to happen at once, I disappear. I dig deeper into what seems to need my attention most urgently (real life people and problems within arm’s reach), and other things have to wait (online communities and seemingly inconsequential projects).
What has required my attention lately? Moreso than this blog? Quite a few things, actually. Spanning personal, professional, and ministerial. Those who subscribe to my newsletter got an update in their inboxes a couple weeks ago.
(If you’re not a subscriber, you can sign up here to join my Inner Circle of prayer warriors and fearlessly curious followers. If you are a subscriber and didn’t get the email, check your spam folder or click here.)
I’ll not apologize for being silent here. Other things have needed me. Truly and absolutely. I will, however, wonder if evil forces use all this to conspire against me.
I’ve been writing in relative obscurity for almost fifteen years. There have been seasons of prolific publication and seasons of abject futility. Each time I gear up for a re-start, with revitalized passion and purpose, life interrupts and my momentum all but dissipates.
That sounds as if I have no control. That’s not at all what I mean. I’m quite opposed to any semblance of victim mentality. I am, however, acknowledging that this makes me vulnerable to spiritual attack and blockades. And it makes my journey uniquely challenging.
Be watchful, mindful, and still. Work and trust.
In the New Testament we read:
Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
1 Peter 5:8 (ESV)
This warning comes at the end of Peter’s letter, just after a series of instructions for leaders in the church. The admonition, however, is not just for leaders. It is for anyone who seeks to follow Jesus and live a life dedicated to honoring God.
Let’s add a few more passages to this conversation.
Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God…”
Psalm 46:10
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9
Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched by your completion of it, according to your means. For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what one does not have.
2 Corinthians 8:11–12
What does any of this have to do with attention spans or spiritual attacks? I’m not just randomly cherry-picking passages. These are entwined in our daily walks with God. How?
We know that evil forces conspire to keep us from God and from good works. They will utilize our weaknesses in those endeavors. May we BE WATCHFUL. What makes you an easy target? How can you guard against those attacks?
May we BE MINDFUL of the gifts God has given us — me and you — but also aware of our weaknesses and limitations. Time is a big one. How are we using it? Are we remembering our finite reality and numbering our days well?
May we BE STILL remembering that God is ultimately sovereign. There is no trial he will not enter with us. No mistake we can make that he can’t redeem. No pit we can fall into from which he cannot lift us. He is good. We can spend a lot of time thinking about ourselves. Let’s take some time to think about him instead. It is infinitely more comforting.
We love to quit, don’t we? Let’s not. Rather than seeing hurdles as signs that we’ve taken the wrong path, let’s view them as challenges we were meant to overcome. KEEP WORKING. Don’t give up.
That last passage, the one from 2 Corinthians, is striking me firmly this season. It sits in a chapter about generous giving within and between the churches. While the context is money, the heart of these verses goes much deeper.
“Eager willingness…”
Are you eagerly willing to complete what you’ve started? Are you excited to chase after the tasks God has given you? To pursue holiness in big projects and small?
That takes a lot of trust! Trust that God called the right person, that he’ll use you, that he’ll equip you… And trust that your success isn’t measured in human terms. How does one quantify willingness? How does one measure the spirit of obedience? It’s not about what we have or even what we give (of our time, talents, sweat and resources). It’s about our humble and faithful pursuit of righteousness.
In every prayer for all of you, I always pray with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
Philippians 1:4–6
God is faithful and he will be faithful to complete what he started in each of us at salvation.
So whether I am eternally distracted or seriously under spiritual attack doesn’t matter. What matters is that I get up again and take the next step with God. And the next step. And the next step.
We may be running a race, but it’s not a competition. Keep running, my friends.
When our son was five years old, he fell and shattered his femur into three pieces.
‘Shattered’ may sound a little dramatic, but when you watch your little guy suffer, when every nurse or doctor interrogates you over what happened, when someone in the ER finally confesses that typically injuries like this are caused by baseball bats … well, we may be excused a little dramatic language.
Long story short… He and his sister were playing on one of those awesome, wooden play forts. He tripped, his sandal caught, and flipped him upside down, smashing his leg against the metal rod of a ladder.
Two hospitals, one long ambulance ride, several sleepless hours, a lot of morphine, and one surgery later, my son was bound ribs to toes in what’s called a hip-spica cast. He had this for ten weeks.
This all happened on Memorial Day Weekend. In other words: our summer was immediately and irrevocably changed.
Even after the summer ended and the cast was removed, we faced four months of physical therapy. He had to learn to walk again. School was different, too, as not all classrooms were handicap-accessible.
It was definitely an unexpected season of stretching for our family.
Once, as we went through old photos and reminisced about that season, Zach said: “I feel bad for kids who never broke their legs.”
Baffled, I asked why.
“They never get to spend all summer at home with their families. They don’t get to spin in wheelchairs or have friends draw on their cast. They never get to use handicapped parking or have everyone bring them gifts for doing nothing. I loved that summer.”
Zach has a different perspective, both on that experience and on 2020.
Finding the Silver Lining
When I think back on that summer, my stomach clenches a bit. I groan inwardly, remembering how hard it was. All the bad pieces come to mind. The sacrifices. The difficulties. So much was out of our control. Plans shifted. Dreams were put on hold. Luxuries vanished. I felt trapped. We were forced to learn new life skills and remember what was most important.
I have the same visceral reaction when thinking about 2020.
While I sit here, sighing heavily over all that was lost, Zach insists this has been the best year of his life. Now, he’s not ignorant of the sacrifices or the grieving this year has brought. His baseball season certainly was not normal. He’s seen the changes we’ve had to make, the impact on my job and our family. (This was NOT a good year to work in the travel industry!) He’s had friends lose parents and grandparents. We’ve felt the impact of this pandemic on a very personal, very local level.
But like I said, he sees things a little differently.
At 15, he can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to go back to school when you could do all your work online and in half the time. He’s an introvert, so he’s thrilled to be stuck at home! He’s perfectly content to eat the same meals over and over for weeks without end. Add to this increased frequency of family game nights and mid-week movies… regular pajama days … more time to hang out with his dog … This kid is in heaven.
We all know this year has been rough. Really, really rough. There’s no denying that. But what if we flip the lens? What if, for just a moment, we stop focusing on the hard bits and look for something beautiful?
What good came of this year? What did we gain by stripping so much away?
What creative solutions were we pushed to find? How did those benefit us and others?
What might we have missed if we hadn’t had this journey?
This isn’t just an exercise of reflection, but also one of expectation. What might we — or our kids — be set up to do in the future because of the experiences of this year?
How might these trials have equipped us for greater ministry? To serve better? To love others better?
I would really love to hear your perspectives on all this.
I don’t need to convince anyone of that, but maybe we all need a reminder that, no matter what this year throws at us, we still get to choose the path we take.
We can choose to see the challenges of this year as opportunities or as limitations and burdens.
Opportunity to serve, to encourage, to celebrate, to grow and stretch and change. Opportunity to try new things, to settle into quieter times, to love on our families in more specific ways. We’ve been at home, restricted, confined, limited. But these are opportunities, too.
When someone complains about a situation, will we join the grumbling? Will we listen to their pain? Will we offer grace and hope?
When someone makes a political declaration, will we take up arms? Instantly unfriend? Rally the troops and engage the fight? Or will we hear them out and ask questions to further understand? To share ideas? To deepen relationships and chase unity?
This year has taken a lot from us, but it has also given us a lot. Don’t squander the opportunities. Choose who you want to be and what path you want to take.
These are crazy times. Heavy times. It feels like every night we go to bed praying and every morning we wake worrying and wondering.
What will we do? When will this end? How will our kids go to school? Will they be safe? Are we making the right choices? What about our jobs? What about our finances? What about community? How do we serve? How do we protect?
Life is chaotic, ever-changing. We have choices to make, but only clusters of incomplete information with which to make them. It’s exhausting. Frustrating. Draining. Isolating.
But we are not alone.
There are two sides to this that I want to explore.
We are all in this together.
The other day I was speaking with a dear one who insisted that “no one understands” what she’s going through. She complained about having to wear a mask and not being able to go everywhere she wants to go, but that was the end of her woes. Now, this is not a competition, but I know many people who have suffered much more than these mere inconveniences. Even so, she was beside herself with grief and pity. She couldn’t see that we’re in this together.
Side One: Everyone is enduring inconvenience and adjustments.
No one is living their “best life” right now. We’re managing a global health crisis and that means EVERYONE is affected. None of us — not you, not me, not the neighbors down the street or across the state line — are alone in this crisis.
Let me be blunt: Some people need to stop expecting exceptions and recognize that we’re all in this together. And no one is particularly happy about it. So let’s try a little harder to make the best of it.
Now for Side Two. I promise to be a little kinder with this point. 😉
We are together, but not alone.
Society wants to sing “We are the World” and exalt shared community. Okay. Sure, we’re “all in this together”, but I find little comfort in knowing I’m surrounded by other fallible humans who are in the same sinking boat. We’re all struggling. No one knows the future and few know what to do in the present. Frankly, I’d rather know who’s controlling the waves than who’s clueless next to me.
Fortunately, we are not alone. There is Someone who is standing with and fighting for us.
“Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.”
– Hebrews 7:25 (emphasis mine)
Not only has God sent his Holy Spirit to indwell those who belong to Him – this Spirit granting strength, guidance, and comfort to those who call upon his name – but He has kept his Son, Jesus Christ our Savior, close by to serve as intercessor and advocate on our behalf.
Beth Moore wrote this:
“The Son of God occupies the seat at the right hand of God where He is the designated High Priest, the divine Intercessor for His people. Christ LIVES to pray for us.”
After extrapolating the exact definition of
the Greek word for intercede, she continues:
“[Christ] prays for us with familiarity. He is completely familiar with the Father and with us. He prays for us with complete knowledge and understanding of God’s perfect will, His ultimate plan, our deepest desires, and our greatest needs. He qualifies, therefore, as the perfect ‘go-between.’”
Oh, how thankful I am for an advocate that SEES. One who KNOWS. Not just what’s going on, by who knows ME. Who knows my deepest desires and needs and doubts and fears and he fights for me. And for you. He IS the perfect High Priest.
We get to choose where we look.
Do you remember the story of Peter walking on
water? It’s found in Matthew 14. The disciples were in a boat, the waves and
wind going crazy, when suddenly they saw Jesus walking toward them. They were
terrified, thinking he was a ghost. He called out to them, “Have courage! It is
I. Don’t be afraid.” Peter being Peter responded, “Lord, if it’s you, command
me to come to you on the water.” Jesus did, and Pete got out of the boat. He
walked on water.
Now, we love to read this story and criticize what comes next. Pete notices the waves and the wind (which have not calmed down) and gets scared, immediately beginning to sink. We want to point out Peter’s insufficient faith (which Christ does in the next verse), but I want us to note – Pete got out of the boat. He walked on water. Not only that, as soon as he started to sink, he called out to Christ – and Christ saved him.
Taking eyes off of Christ does not negate the courage required to get out of the boat. Peter showed tremendous faith, faith not exhibited by any of the other disciples on that boat that night.
Taking our eyes off of Christ is not fatal. It’s human. And we all do it sometimes. We begin to focus on our circumstances rather than our Savior. Doing so definitely makes our journey more perilous, but it doesn’t sentence us to isolation. Christ is still there for us, ready to save when we call out to Him.
We have lots of choices these days. We can focus on ourselves and how upset we are that life isn’t great. We can focus on our fears and what we don’t know or what we imagine (or whatever new conspiracy theory threatens our peace). Or we can focus on God, trusting Christ to advocate and intercede for us during these difficult times.
And here’s some really good news: every day we get to choose.
The choices we made yesterday don’t define today and today doesn’t define tomorrow. His mercies are new every day. We can choose Him every day.
The fear of inadequacy has chased me my entire life. You can blame any number of things from my past or present, but let’s not. Rather, let’s talk about the struggle this presents in the dailies.
Of all the theological concepts in Scripture, grace has always troubled me most. I love the idea of it and I believe in it! But living it is a challenge. Fearing inadequacy, I want to earn my way (even when I know I can’t) and prove my worth (even when I know evidence is scant).
God’s grace absolutely is real. And so is my humanity.
In that imperfect humanity, fear sometimes out-muscles the knowledge and questions assault me. Is it enough? Are you enough? Are you doing enough?
Comparison almost always serves as a trigger. Oh, that blasted social media!
I see friends making a difference in so many amazing arenas. They’re fighting against poverty, injustice, political crisis, and depression. They’re raising awareness about inequality and disease and literally saving lives with their acumen. They’re bringing beauty into the world. They’re educating their children (and others), raising the next generation of world-changers. I celebrate every single one of them!
But then that nagging little voice asks: What are YOU doing?
Do any of you hear it? Does it plague you too?
Today was one of those days.
The sun rose as I Iay in bed. I checked messages and then, without purpose, scrolled through social media, waiting for my husband to wake. By the time he did, tears silently coursed down toward my pillow. I confessed to him: “I feel so lost. What am I supposed to be DOING? How do I know if I’m doing enough??”
We prayed together (as is our morning habit), then began the day, all my questions left unanswered. After my shower, I grabbed my phone again. An alert popped up on my home screen: the verse of the day.
“And let the peace of the Messiah, to which you were also called in one body, control your hearts. Be thankful.”
— Colossians 3:15 (HCSB)
This isn’t the verse I would search for or choose when chasing peace, but it’s the one God gave me.
Why? Why THIS verse? I don’t know every reason, but I want to tell you what I see.
I don’t need affirmation and God knows it.
Affirmation — Oh, you’ve done so much! Here’s a list to remind you and make you feel better. — centers the conversation back on ME and my abilities and accomplishments. That’s not what I need. My focus should be on the Messiah and on the body, not on me.
This isn’t about me or them.
That “body” — the great and global collection of Jesus-followers — includes me. The work we do together matters. It’s not about Kim and Sarah and Cheryl and Latasha or whoever the visible front person is. Because we all have a job to do. Sometimes I’m running lead, and sometimes I get to stand behind and celebrate, encourage, and bolster. We are all part of the body, unified to bring glory to God and His Kingdom to earth.
Gratitude goes such a long way.
Whenever my heart gets out of check, whenever fears and doubts attack me, giving thanks re-centers me. It reminds of all that God has done for me, all He has given me — spiritual, physical, material, experiential, emotional … EVERYTHING! And in so doing eliminates fear.
Maybe let peace chase us.
This verse tells us that peace can “control [our] hearts.” Let me get a little grammar geeky for a moment. Control is an active, not passive, verb. Furthermore, it’s active upon an inactive (passive) object. In other words, our hearts can rest while peace does the work. And who directs that peace? The Messiah.
Our pastor reminded us this week that we are human BEings, not human DOings. Our value is found in who we are — redeemed children of God becoming more Christ-like each day — rather than in the specific activities or titles we pursue.
Maybe we need to rest more in the BE than the DO. Rather than chasing affirmation, maybe let peace chase us for a while.
If you read my last post, you know I have good days and bad days and I’m learning to be okay with not being okay. I don’t want to just leave it there, so even though I am no expert on escaping dark moods, I want to share a few things that help me. Maybe they’ll help you too.
Limit negative exposures.
What is it that’s getting you down? What feeds into your dark emotions and invites you further into the pit? Identify those triggers, then see how you can limit or avoid them.
For me, it’s the news. Not just the news, but conversations about the news and politics, the incessant social media drone of debate and toxic discourse. I don’t even want to call it “discourse” since so much of it involves mocking, ridicule, and attack rather than sound exchanges of ideas and opinions. THAT I could handle. But that’s not often what I find, so I need to limit my exposure.
Read intentionally.
Find something that will challenge you, encourage you, or help you escape. Hmm…maybe that should be Elevate, Encourage, Escape. That sounds very organized and inspired, right? Sure. My point is that you need to get out of your own head. Or rather, let someone else into your head to shift your thinking.
I never read just one book at a time. Right now I’m reading Identity Theft (a nonfiction book about rooting your personal identity in Christ and what God says of you), Get Out of Your Head (a nonfiction book about spiritual warfare and the power to take every thought captive), and From Sky to Sky (a speculative fiction work about immortals among us). Each of these is helping me get out of my pit.
Identity Theftis reminding of Scriptural truths about who I am and what I am called to be. Get Out of Your Head is helping me combat some long-seated lies I’ve held about myself and my position in community. From Sky to Sky is offering me escape. It’s letting me rest my thoughts on things completely different from my everyday life and current situation.
Complete a project. Any project.
Sometimes the pit stems from a lack of purpose or control. Finding a project and completing it feels good. It offers a temporary, but solid, measurable sense of control and purpose. It doesn’t matter what the project is. It could be something creative or practical or even both. Maybe painting a table. Organizing your pantry. Cleaning out your closet. Making a menu for the week. Trying a new recipe. Any of this will do!
The form of the project doesn’t matter. What matters is that you finish it.
Starting a project doesn’t have the same impact. In fact, it may cause a reverse effect. It’s fun and a little exciting, but rather than giving you a sense of accomplishment, it could add to your stress by putting one more thing on your list of “things you have to do.” We want to experience success, not further burden. So find a project you know you can finish and get it done.
Connect with others.
I feel a little hypocritical saying this, but … we need community. I tend to isolate, especially when I’m in a dark place. I don’t want to burden others; I want to encourage them! So when I get in a pit, I tend to stay there by myself until I can dig my way out. On my own. But I have learned — I am learning that I can get out of that pit a lot faster when I invite others into it with me. Not that I want them in the pit, but they don’t want me there either. They can help me get out. They can often see things I can’t. They can show me that the pit isn’t as deep and dark as I imagine. Together we can overcome it.
How can we connect with others? Reach out. It’s as simple as a text or phone call. A coffee date or an invitation to … anything (once everything opens up again). It doesn’t have to be complicated.
One little thing though … You need to be brave. Connection doesn’t come simply reaching out. You need to open up, too. I’m not suggesting you lay bare all your secrets, but choose to share. Be honest with your feelings. Pray together. You can live in parallel or you can live in community. Community is a riskier, but it beats being alone.
Laugh.
I’m not kidding. Find something that makes you laugh. A ridiculous movie. A game with your kids. A lip sync battle with old friends via Zoom. Find something that makes you laugh. Not a polite little giggle, but a toes-deep, soul-cleansing, make-you-cry laugh.
Admit fear, but refuse to submit to it.
“For God did not give us a Spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control.” — 2 Timothy 1:7 (NET)
Timothy, the original recipient of this letter from Paul, faced persecution and great difficulties. Paul even urges him to “by God’s power accept your share of suffering for the gospel.”
I don’t want to start a “biggest loser” game in which we compare who has it worse: you or me, us or the early church leaders. It doesn’t matter. The point is that God has not changed. If He has the power to get Timothy through those days, He has the power to get us through these. If we have accepted Christ as Savior, then we have the same Spirit Paul speaks of here, and it is not a spirit that surrenders to fear. Fear is real, but it does not own us. We have been granted freedom and can thereby lay hold of the power, love, and self-control the Spirit who lives in us possesses.
Acknowledge fear, but refuse to live there.
How? Spend time with God. Pray. Read your Bible. Listen to worship music, not just in the background, but meditate on the words. Focus on the attributes of God and the truths of His Word.
“You will keep the mind that is dependent on You in perfect peace, for it is trusting in You.” — Isaiah 26:3 (HCSB)
YOUR TURN: Tell me what you do to get out of the pits. What helps you shed the funk?
I should have been able to answer it easily, quickly, without much thought.
I didn’t. I couldn’t. That text sat unanswered on my phone for hours. Overnight even. I stewed over my reply.
Should I be honest?
Not great. I’m struggling. The world is falling apart and it sucks and I hate it and I feel like I’m slipping into a dark place.
Or should I put on my well-worn mask of positivity and encouragement?
We’re good! The kids are loving remote schooling. Everyone is healthy. It’s so nice to have all this extra time together as a family. ❤ How are YOU??
Both responses are true.
We ARE good. We are so blessed it’s ridiculous. My job has imploded obviously — No one is booking travel these days! — but we don’t depend on my income to make ends meet, and my husband is able to work from home. We have food, shelter, health, education… Even the dog is fine.
But we’re also NOT good. I’m an extrovert. There’s no hiding that. I didn’t realize how MUCH I needed other people and wide spaces, though, until I was trapped in this house with the same four people for days — WEEKS! — without end.
So how am I?
I’m sad. I’m overwhelmed. I’m discouraged and tired and weary.
And that’s okay.
Too often we feel like we have to be happy. Not just happy, but chipper. Not just chipper, but a buoy for everyone else.
We want to encourage and uplift, but that could mean sitting in the muck with others rather than trying to lift them out. Sometimes encouragement comes from being vulnerable and truthful about how we really feel in a situation.
As a society we now scoff at #firstworldproblems. We’ve invalidated the frustrations and complaints of anyone who lives seemingly better than most. The result: those who know they have it good feel they should never confess discontent.
I’m not dealing with world hunger or devastating poverty. My daughter is not being trafficked and my son is not an addict. My husband is good and loving and kind. But none of this means that roses are popping up every morning and little woodland creatures sing while cleaning my house. It doesn’t mean that I don’t struggle. Nor does it mean that I need to downplay my honest feelings about life.
And neither do you.
Right now the world is upside down. Life is crazy, and we’re all going through something none of us have experienced before. IT IS OKAY TO FEEL UNSETTLED.
Having negative emotions does not negate our faith nor deny that we know we’re blessed. Faith is not proven by ever-present positive attitudes.
Want proof? Read the Psalms. These writings are filled with despair, but no one looks at them and shakes a judgmental head at the authors. No. We strive to learn from them, to glean wisdom and faith through their example.
So here’s my advice for today: Take the time to feel what you feel. Then choose not to get stuck there.
Sure, I spent time falling apart last week. I curled up on the floor next to my bed and cried. I lamented our lack of control. I confessed my sadness and discouragement and how I didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel (or rather: an end to this stay-at-home quarantine order). But once my tears were spent, I got up off the floor.
When you read through those biblical psalms of lament, the ones in which the authors cry out to God in pain and frustration, you’ll notice two things:
The psalmists are not afraid to be honest with God. They call Him out from their limited perspectives, accusing Him of judgment, rejection, punishment, silence, apathy… all kinds of ill-treatment. They confess their true feelings and demand attention. They want their enemies slaughtered; they want restoration, and they want it now. We think of the Psalms as beautifully-phrased poetry — and they are! But they’re also courageously honest.
The psalmists don’t stay in the pits. Almost every one of those psalms ends with praise. The writers vent and yell and cry and plead, but then they remember who God is and the power and position He holds.
Go ahead. Look for yourself. Spend some time today in the Psalms minding the journeys and patterns of petition. Now let’s imitate that.
Yes, we’re in a difficult situation now, so let’s be honest about it. Shout out your feelings, your fears, your frustrations to God. God isn’t surprised by our true thoughts. Nor is He intimidated by our proclamations of them. Why?
Because of who He is.
He is the Creator. He is a good, good Father who loves us and seeks to bring us favor. He is POWERFUL and He has this whole world — including this pandemic — in His very capable hands.
Does this mean He’s going to cure it immediately? That all who are sick will walk away healed? That the economy will be saved and our nation will thrive more than ever before?
No. Maybe. I don’t know.
None of us know the answers to those questions. We don’t know exactly what the future holds. What we can know right now is this: HE IS.
Rest in God alone, my soul, for my hope comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I will not be shaken.
My salvation and glory depend on God; my strong rock, my refuge is in God.
Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts before Him. God is our refuge.
Tanya Dennis Books 