The Pain Of Christmas

I'm going to say up front here that this isn't going to be my typical style of blog post. If you follow my blog even a little bit, you know what my style tends to be--the use of story and metaphor, both personal experience and otherwise, to draw out greater truth that I use in my daily life and hopefully you can as well.
This, however, may stray from that typical style. But regardless, I feel it is something that should be addressed.

Christmas is tomorrow and I realize that there are many of us who have gotten terrible news this holiday season that has left a bad taste in our mouths. Maybe it was a loss of a loved one or the news that you have cancer or the loss of a job you really needed. Whatever it may be, Christmas just isn't the same for you. But for many of us, the thing that ruined Christmas didn't even happen this year or last year, but many years ago. You lost someone that made Christmas Christmas, and with them gone, the holiday no longer carries the joy it used to.

I've lost people too. Believe me, I know what it's like. That being said, there's not much of anything that can lessen the pain right now except time. But I do believe that prayer, love, and support can help as well. So, even though I probably don't know you, I would like to pray for those of you grieving a loss this Christmas season. I pray that you find peace and comfort in the reminder of what this season is about. For it's not about lavish gifts, shopping trips, colored paper, and bright lights. It's not about food, time off from work, or tradition. Don't get me wrong, all these things are fine, and even uplifting when taken in the right heart, but they are not what Christmas is about. Christmas is about God giving up His standing as the most powerful being in the universe to take on our skin, our lives, and our suffering--to become completely helpless in the form of a newborn child. He gave up all He had to learn our language, experience our struggles, and feel our pain so that we could fully relate with Him not just as eternal souls but also as human beings, and so He could teach us how to live the way the Father made us to live.
But mostly He came so that he could defeat death once and for all. So that even though we may die here on earth, we will not remain that way, but join Him in the life we were always destined for.

I pray that you remember this as the pain of lost loved ones hits you with yet another wave of grief. I pray that though it may not make it hurt any less right now, that you will never forget that your Heavenly Father knows exactly what it feels like to lose someone dear to Him, for His Son died once too.

Out On a Limb

As someone who has struggled with anxiety, I know how terrifying it is to go out on a limb. To do something that could end horribly wrong.

Most people struggle on some level with this fear of the unknown, so I'm sure you can relate; but with anxiety, it is much worse. The fear is almost debilitating sometimes, and it makes the one struggling with it have trouble saying or doing things that would only make your average person somewhat nervous.

 

I have come to learn over the last couple years that anxiety roots itself in a lack of peace and manifests itself in the form of fear. Fear of doing something wrong, fear of sounding foolish or looking stupid, fear of disappointing those close to you, fear of being misunderstood. Most of all it manifests as a general fear of failure. Where most people are a little nervous that something may be awkward or not go quite as hoped, those of us with anxiety answer the question of "What could possibly go wrong?" with a loud and uncomfortable, "EVERYTHING!"

 

I don't know about others, since people with anxiety usually have anxiety about talking about their anxiety (ironic, I know), but my mind would always jump to one of the worst possible outcomes. Usually the second to the worst, then I'd think of something worse than that and I'd no longer want to confront whoever I needed to confront or have whatever conversation I knew I needed to have. So I made a habit of thinking of as many possible outcomes as I could, having them get progressively better. I'd end up with a list of six or more outcomes, lots of time wasted, and still the desire to hide under a rock and wish the situation would go away on its own, but usually somewhere in thinking of all those potential outcomes, I'd find one good one. Some glimmer of hope that got me to move and made me know I had to take the risk with the less than favorable outcomes.

But sometimes these "glimmers of hope" didn't always glimmer. They didn't shine, they didn't promise a chance at the perfect outcome, they sometimes weren't even the least negative option on the table. In fact, sometimes, what made me move away from my fear to take a leap of faith was the scariest option on the table. Now before you misunderstand me completely, allow me to explain.

 

You see, there was once this girl named Esther. Esther was nothing more than a simple Jewish peasant girl, but boy was she pretty. Now I don't mean generally pretty, but she was gorgeous enough that when the king needed a new wife and decided to round up all the single ladies in the area, she was the one he chose  out of the masses. Fast forward a bit. Esther was now queen, and as queen, she heard a terrifying bit of news. One of the king's highest in command had plans to kill the Jews, her people. She knew she must appeal to the king if she were to stop this disastrous thing from taking place, but she also knew the king's temper. He did not like to be disturbed. He wanted no one to come to him unless he called on them, even her, his wife. It was common knowledge that the reason he needed a new wife in the first place was because he had the last one executed for doing something that angered him. So, naturally, Esther was afraid to seek an audience with the king. She was afraid of what might happen to her, but after weighing the options, it was the darkest and scariest option that moved her to action.

If she didn't talk to the king, everyone she'd ever known and loved would die.

So she put her trust in God and went to speak to the king, not because she found some hope to cling to in her analyzing of the situation, but because she realized there would be no hope at all if she didn't move. She realized that what would be lost if she did nothing was far worse than what would be lost if she tried and failed.

 

Several months ago, I, like Esther, had a decision to make. Unlike Esther, my decision wasn't a life or death situation, but with how anxious about it I was, it might as well have been. My decision would, however, effect not only my life and future for at least a short time, but another's life and future as well. Like Esther, I found myself having to make a choice I didn't feel quite ready to make, though I don't know if I'd ever have been truly ready for it. Fear almost kept me at a standstill, but also like Esther I discovered something in my weighing of the situation. I realized that if I did nothing, I very well could lose any chance of keeping the other person in my life. And it wasn't until faced with the possibility of losing someone I cared deeply for did I realize how minor any of the other outcomes I had been stressing over really were.

 

In case you don't know the story, Esther went out on a limb, sought audience with the king, and prevailed! Not only were her people spared, but the man plotting to kill them was executed. I also went out on a limb, and so far, I'm not disappointed in my decision. In fact, I have learned so much more about myself, my God, and others in the last few months than I would have if I let this slip through my fingers.

 

So, you see, I understand how terrifying it can be to go out onto a limb. I know how debilitating all the "what ifs" popping up around you can be. But if I've learned one thing in this life, it's that the most beautiful flowers and the most delicious fruits often grow at the end of the most seemingly dangerous branches.

How will you ever experience the beauty and taste the joy if you don't take the risk and climb out into the unknown?

Losing Control

"If any would come after me, they must deny themselves, take up their cross daily and follow me."
Mark 8:34

In my last post I talked about fear. Specifically I talked about letting go of that fear to find peace. I think this verse fits that concept perfectly.
I, like many, have spent a lot of time focusing on the second part of this verse, the "pick up your cross" part. But that's not the part that stood out to me the other day. For the first time, my eyes were drawn to "deny yourself," and I began thinking about what exactly that looks like. At first, I thought of what I described in In the Face Of Fear, about how we must turn our fear over to Jesus. But how exactly does that go hand in hand with denying ourselves?

Fear comes from a lot of things. We fear change, we fear death, we fear loss, but largely I think a lot of fear comes from feeling like we no longer have control. Fear comes when something big is happening, something that could mean we have to change the way we live, act, or view the world. Fear comes when something happens that we really have no power to change. So, by surrendering that fear, we are denying ourselves in a sense.
But denying ourselves goes deeper than that. It's not just admitting to God we're afraid so He can eradicate that fear. It's denying ourselves the right we think we have to hang onto any negative and destructive habits and mindsets that we continue to cling to. Things like worry, doubt, anger, and judgment. But really all four of those boil down to fear--fear for ourselves, our loved ones, our comfort. But mostly we fear our loss of control. A dear friend of mine recently put it this way, "Fear makes us choose the easy route, the predictable route. But fear is never a solid foundation. Fear only breeds more fear. We think we're in control until the inevitable storms tear the notion from our hands and we discover we have absolutely no control. Hence, more fear."
When we deny ourselves, we say no to our desire to control our situation and give it back over to the only One who has control in the first place.

Recently I got to first hand experience what denying yourself is really like when God convicted me of holding onto something I knew wasn't mine.
You see, my boyfriend has been going through some health issues recently, and I have this bad habit of taking the pain of others onto myself. I mean, don't get me wrong, being able to empathize or even just sympathize with others is great, but I've always been good at taking everything a step farther than needed. I end up worrying and stressing over a problem in another's life as if it were my own problem. I would work myself into these knots where I could no longer feel God's presence, even though I knew He was there.
Now these aren't life threatening health issues or anything like that, just something that will require him to change the way he does certain things and even maybe give up some stuff neither of us expected he would have to quit this soon. Regardless of whether it's life threatening or not, I know how much pain he's in physically, as well as emotionally and spiritually, I can imagine. Having to face changes like this is never easy, and while I should be trying to offer some peace to him during this, I found myself as threatened by the storm as he was.

It was on a Sunday morning shortly after this all began that God brought to mind a prayer I had said several months before when facing something else that was out of my control.
"Lord," I had said. "I don't really know what to do with this situation, and there's not really anything I can do, so I'm sorry for trying to take over. You're in control, I know you are. So, here, you can have him back. Thanks for letting me have him in my life, but he's not mine anyways. So you do your thing, and if you would still have me be a part of this plan of yours, I would very much like to see how it unfolds."
Sitting there remembering that prayer, I gave this heavy sigh and said, "I know I've said this already, but I'm holding on again, and I shouldn't be because he's not mine anyway. Thanks for letting me borrow him for a while, but ultimately he is yours, and you know what you're doing. So here, you can have him back."

It wasn't until I denied my flesh the right it thought it had to worry and stress over what to do with this storm was I able to understand what to do with my situation. It's truly amazing how the Spirit works, bringing not only the fruit of the Spirit with which you longed for, peace in my case, but also those that will go hand in hand it help you face what is up ahead. For with the peace came a joy that made the clouds less scary and a courage to face the next road blocks.Also came patience to wait out this storm no matter how long it would take and strength to allow the one who's facing the storm to lean on me whenever he has trouble seeing Jesus, who I lean on, at the stern of the boat.
But along with equipping you, the Spirit also brings this inexplicable level of understanding. For when my peace came, so also came this understanding that though I may not know how long this will take or how painful it may be, we would come out of it and there would be something awesome at the end. I knew it like I knew I still breathed, like I knew the earth was still turning and my heart still beating. How I knew, I don't know, but I can't shake this knowing that goes beyond my understanding. Something good is coming, even if we can't see it yet.

But the same way we cannot ignore the first part of Mark 8:34, we shouldn't ignore the other half to focus on it. "Take up your cross daily and follow me."
Daily we must practice this denying our desire for control to follow the only One who knew true peace. Do not get discouraged when you find you've picked back up fears and insecurities that you've already surrendered in the past. Instead, keep in mind a prayer my sister shared with me several years back when she was facing her own storms and fighting her own demons, "I'm sorry, Lord, that I have picked back up what I already laid at your cross."
It is never too late to turn to the Lord and release the white-knuckled hold you have on your need to control that which is out of your grasp.