Tanya Dennis Books

This has been a strange season.

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.

It was a simple enough text.

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:

1. 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.
2. 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.

— Psalm 63:5–8 (HCSB)