Fear vs. Trust

Jeremiah 42:5-6:
Then they said to Jeremiah, "May the Lord be a true and faithful witness against us if we do not act in accordance with the whole message with which the Lord your God will send you to us. Whether it is pleasant or unpleasant, we will listen to the voice of the Lord our God to whom we are sending you, so that it may go well with us when we listen to the voice of the Lord our God."

A bit of context: the Jews had just been conquered by Nebuchadnezzar, fulfilling the prophecy Jeremiah had been saying for years. The king had been carried off, many people were killed, and everyone was afraid.

I love how they say "Whether it is pleasant or unpleasant, we will listen to the voice of the Lord our God ..." I underlined those words in my Bible, because that is the attitude I want to have.

The Lord responds to them, and tells them to stay in Jerusalem (Jer 42:8 -22). He says "Do not be afraid of the king of Babylon, whom you are now fearing; do not be afraid of him,' declares the Lord, 'for I am with you to save you and deliver you from his hand.' (v. 11, emphasis mine)

What wonderful, pleasant promises! Surely the Jews will respond with joy, and settle down fearlessly.

Spoiler alert: Nope.

As soon as Jeremiah finished speaking, there is an immediate clamor against him: "Jeremiah is trying to entrap us, and give us over to the Chaldeans for exile and death! (43:3, my words), and everybody raced off to Egypt for safety, even though the Lord warned there was no safety in Egypt (42:13-16).

Fear is a powerful motivator. The Jews swore "we will listen," whether Jeremiah's words are pleasant or unpleasant, but they were afraid, and ran off to Egypt to save themselves.

I wish this was less convicting than it is. But so often, our words of faith "I will trust in You," "I will call upon the Lord," "I will wait for You," become empty promises as we race around trying to save ourselves (see James 5:12).

Jesus' words in Luke 17:33 ring heart-breakingly true: "Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it."

If the Jews had responded to Jeremiah's words with trust in the Lord, and obeyed, all would have been well. Instead they responded with fear that ultimately led to death.

Our relationship with the Lord is shaped by our relationships with those around us; parents, family, friends. People aren't always trustworthy. Many of us soon learn that the only person with our best interest in mind, is us! When God asks us to trust Him, our learned fear response kicks in, and we run off in fear.

I see this especially true in America, land of the independent, home of pull-yourself-up-by-your-own-bootstraps. It can be difficult for us Americans to understand our dependence on God, and in our "can do," "instant" culture, waiting for Him to act is seen as foolish and lazy. It took ten days of waiting before God spoke to Jeremiah (42:7). When you're afraid, ten minutes seems like eternity.

In the cacophony of life's storms, it is difficult to be quiet and wait for that "still, small voice (1 Kings 19:12)." When we are afraid, the urge to "act now" is strong; it is hard to obey a command to be still and trust. But we are called to act out of love, not fear. "There is no fear in love; but  perfect love casts out fear, because fear  involves punishment, and the one who fears is not  perfected in love." 1 John 4:18 (emphasis mine)

We can trust that God knows all our needs (Matt. 6:32); He has promised to supply all our needs (Phil. 4:19). Until we actively begin to trust those promises, basing our decisions and actions on Who God says He is, and what He promises to do, instead of our emotions and faulty human examples, we cannot know God, and we will not know peace. 

"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in the inner man, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.

 Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen." Eph. 3:14-21

Swimsuit Shopping With Jesus

I went swimsuit shopping yesterday - the summer quest women dread. I knew this year was going to be extra difficult, as I've gained 2 sizes this year from depression. You never want to be bigger when you go swimsuit shopping, but I had no choice.

Now, when I go clothes shopping for myself, if I'm going to be by myself, I consciously invite Jesus along, because clothes shopping without a friend is a terrible experience. Of course, swimsuit shopping is even worse than normal shopping, and it is so easy to quickly fall into the trap of "My body is all wrong! Nothing fits!" Before I started, I asked Jesus to please have the perfect suit for me, that I would feel pretty in and would fit my body well. That is a tall order coming from a plus-size woman. 

Because money is tight, I went to Walmart first. There is a six item limit in the changing rooms, so I had to undress, strain and squeeze myself into suits that only partially went on, change back into my clothes, go out to the cart, return with a new load, etc. Of course, the only suit that went ON properly was the last one I tried on, and it made me feel very ugly.  I did not feel properly covered, and thought the expanding polka-dot print made me look like a gangrenous, bloated whale. Disheartened, I texted Shannon about possibly checking Lane Bryant. A store considerably out of my budget, but one that I found guarantees a good fit. She texted back that I should *not* get the whale suit (to my relief!), so I headed for the car. 

As I was leaving Walmart, I had a little thought of "Go to Fred Meyer's" pop up. I set it aside for later, doubting that Freddy's would have anything, and went to Lane Bryant.

I hadn't visited Lane Bryant's new location in Valley River Mall, so I wasn't sure where they were located. After driving around the mall, futilely looking for a hint or sign of their location, I parked in the shade behind J. C. Penny, and walked in. Of course, I immediately checked the store directory, but Lane Bryant wasn't posted (they moved in May). I peered down the store aisle before me, craning my neck, but did not see any Lane Bryant sign, so I swung off to the right, through the food court. I thought I had remembered hearing they were by the old Gottschalk's, but they weren't. 

After walking the full circuit of the mall (with a slight detour through Bath & Body Works 75% off sale), I ended up on the opposite end of the aisle I had peered down earlier. There was Lane Bryant! Hips, knees, and ankles aching, I waddled painfully toward the store, and gratefully stepped inside.

I've always loved Lane Bryant. It feels so welcoming, which is not usually the feeling I plus-sized me gets from departments stores. Sadly, THEY WERE ALL SOLD OUT OF SWIMSUITS. =_= All the cool kids go swimsuit shopping in March. I found out I could still order online, and sadly left the store, walking a few steps to reach J C Penny's, and then out to my car. 

Hot, aching and exhausted, I resolved to pop in to Fred Meyer's, just in case, but I didn't hold out much hope. I was a little alarmed walking in to Freddy's, because I could see a lot of clearance items, but NO swimsuits! Dispirited, I wandered past the bright sundresses to the back end of ladies' wear, and TA DA! I found them! Swimsuits!! Hurrah!

Not only were there several suits to choose from, there were a variety of sizes, and many sizes for ME! Every suit I brought into the fitting room (with no silly limit of six items) went on easily, without feeling like I was trying to stuff and squeeze myself into a misshapen sausage skin. I actually got to choose which suit I felt prettiest in, with the color and pattern I liked (hot pink!), instead of being forced to choose between the lesser of two evils. It was wonderful.

I really like my new suit. The hot pink color pleases me. I feel properly covered, and I know I would feel comfortable sitting or walking around after swimming without having to change. 

I should have listened to that still, small, voice the first time.

Take Chances, Get Messy, Make Mistakes

Can I just be really honest for a second? And forgive me if I've said this before.

All the kids' activities on Pinterest kind of freak me the heck out. Not because they're bad activities (we all know the horror of the THIRD RAINY DAY IN A ROW), and I love all the creativity that goes into them, but ... Hmm. I'm not sure how to say it. *thinks*

It seems to me, that there is this cultural consciousness that expects kids to have every moment scripted out for them. What they're doing, who they're with, how they're playing, etc.

I love that there is more parental involvement, especially father involvement, and as the homeschooling movement has become rather mainstream now (certainly comparatively, and also from my perspective), I love that there are so many options for parents-as-teachers.

But I do *worry* that the constancy of pre-scripted crafts, play, activities, and constant supervision have a hidden cost: creativity and maturity.

A child needs free-play to develop their own methods of creativity. A child needs to be "bored" without adult intervention so they can learn how to entertain THEMSELVES. A child needs to experience age-appropriate conflict and come to a resolution themselves. I fear that in our search for safety and "the best" method to stimulate brain development, we're forgetting that a child needs room to take chances, get messy, and make mistakes.

I know I struggle with this a lot with my nephew. (Who I do NOT get to hang out with NEARLY enough!) I will have an activity all planned, and all the materials ready to go, and I'll be excited, and he'll come over, and do something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. He won't WANT to make cookies. He won't WANT to make puppets. He won't WANT to make pipe-cleaner candy canes, or if he does, he wants to do it "wrong!" It drives me a bit mad, especially because I'm a person who likes structure a LOT.

But when I'm able to stop being angsty about how my plans are "ruined," I'm able to see is his brain functioning at a much higher level than when he was just following MY ideas. He's starting to think for himself, make up stories, have ideas that I never even considered, seeing beauty and patterns where I saw a mess. (Not that he always gets to do what he WANTS when he's at my house.)

Now, sometimes, that means there is a REAL mess - spills and oops and things getting knocked over. I try to make sure that HE cleans it up, even though he does a four-year-old job of it, which drives my thirty-year-old self a bit insane. But it's all a learning experience, that teaches him: Yes, You Can.

I am a teacher, and in the 8 years I've been teaching (and the 20+ I've been observing teaching), I've seen a marked difference in the students in the past  five years.

Many high school and middle school students have lost their ability to be creative, to problem solve, be self-disciplined and be self-reliant. At the beginning of the year, my open-ended art assignments confused and TERRIFIED my art students. Without specific instructions on WHAT to draw, they could not figure out what they were to do. During the comic book season, about half the class really struggled with self-management and projecting long-term to figure out how to finish a comic in 2 1/2 months, even WITH my handy-dandy weekly checklist. Also, they had no concept on how to cope with working as a team, dividing up work, or how to approach conflict with their team members.

Developmentally speaking, students this age SHOULD HAVE some kind of social strategy for dealing with conflict; they SHOULD HAVE an ability to plan, and execute a long-range goal; they SHOULD HAVE their own creative thoughts and ideas.

The fact that they don't worries me.

It's not just in art class where I've seen this inability to be self-directed, but across all the other classes too. A particularly concerning area is how the kids approach their homework. Many students will not (or can not) complete homework without an adult sitting in the room. When students are confronted with a problem they don't know the answer to right off, they quit, and wait until someone NOTICES they have a problem, and TELLS them how to do it. They won't even think of skipping the problem, and working on something else they just ... stop.

I'm very concerned about living in a generation of "adults" who do not have the ability to creatively come up with a solution for a problem.

I'm very concerned about living in a generation of "adults" who must constantly be told what to do.

I'm very concerned about living in a generation of "adults" who quit before they try.

Obviously, this not just caused by an abundance of pre-school and kindergarten activities on pinterest. It's also impacted by the unstable family life typical in America, our choices of entertainment, our school "system" (I apply the term loosely here), and many other social and cultural factors.

The activities on pinterest aren't BAD, and for harried and frazzled parents everywhere, they're a great resource! I do think, however, that they indicate a greater cultural problem where the freedom of creativity, and its consequences of messy mistakes is being stifled and traded in for the "safety" of prescribed roles and activities.

However, I don't think that we're going to find our trade-in to be worth the price.

I Am A Christian With Anxiety and Depression

I am a Christian. I suffer from anxiety and depression.

I struggle to accept that this is not some kind of moral or faithless failing in me.

My first set-too with depression was in college. I was attending university with no friends, no support group, working, taking 18+ credits, no adviser or advocate, the professor in charge of my undergraduate course (choral education) was prejudiced against me because I was home-schooled and a Christian, my mother was mysteriously ill with heart troubles, my grandmother had contracted stomach cancer, and my church at the time did not support or care for me in any way.

I didn't know I was depressed at the time. I thought it was normal to have no interest in life or activities. I thought I was "just tired and stressed" when I drove to school every morning, fantasizing about a semi-truck crashing into me and killing me instantly. I thought it was normal to have a fog around my thoughts and senses. I thought it was normal to wake up constantly tired.

I remember one evening I was in my room, hanging out with my little brother, and we were joking around and I laughed. I heard mom gasp from the living room, and comment to dad, "It's been so long since I've heard her laugh!"

I realized something might be wrong.

I was blessed that my depression was largely influenced by my circumstances at the time. When I graduated, it pretty much disappeared.

For awhile.

After a difficult relationship, I was once again plunged into depression and this time, its paranoid friend, anxiety and their partner in crime, self-harm.

But God has a higher plan, and He works all things together for the good of those who love Him - something I'm so grateful for.

I did not understand it at the time, but Papa-God was preparing my soul for some serious healing.

I continued walking after God as best I knew how. I was still depressed, frequently anxious, and when my emotions would overwhelm me, I would scratch at my wrists with my fingers, or anything sharp at hand until they bled. I did not think this was strange or wrong, it was just something I couldn't help doing, and it made me feel better.

I believed I was worthless and inherently shameful - so it didn't matter if I hurt myself.

God, in His tender (and humorous) wisdom brought people into my life. I don't understand how He did it, but He gave me two friends who were patient and stubborn enough to start living His love into my life.

My concept of myself as a worthless and repugnant creature was directly challenged, and my sanity fell apart.

It would be easy to assume that experiencing people loving me would make me feel better, but instead it made me feel worse. Confronting the negative and contra-scriptural views I had of myself brought them up into the open, and I was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions.

I would become hysterical 2 or 3 nights a week. I had panic attacks, and lived in a constant state of dreadful terror of my friends abandoning me. The emotions were so constant and overwhelming, I began cutting myself much more frequently. I clung desperately to my friends, and simultaneously pushed them away.

There would be times we were hanging out, laughing and having a good time, and suddenly, I would withdraw emotionally. Very shortly, I would make an excuse and lock myself in the bathroom, overcome by terror and a deep repulsion about who I was. I hated myself so much, I would smell a terrible stench that seemed to come off of my skin.

My friends would patiently wait outside the bathroom, knocking on the door and calling for me to let them in. Eventually, I would tremblingly be persuaded to unlock the door, and they would come in, gently wrap me in their arms as I shook with grief about how repulsive and shameful I was. As I cried, I would choke out a "confession" of whatever shameful thing I was thinking of, sure that as soon as they heard this new horror, I would be rejected and left alone with how disgusting I was.

Instead, I would be met with tight hugs, assurances of forgiveness, and often, gentle comments about how what I did was not wrong, and I was not guilty of my imagined crimes.

Months passed, and I wasn't seeming to get better. I realized that I needed more help than my friends could give. At church one day, a sermon on the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda spoke to me in a very personal way. As the preacher read the passage, he came to the part where Jesus asks, "Do you want to be well?" I felt as if Jesus was speaking those words to me, personally. I whispered yes (and cried, of course). When I arrived home, I promptly made an appointment with a counselor, and began the very difficult work of addressing my past.

It is lamentable that there is such a taboo on discussing emotional problems in the church. I have often met with callous misunderstanding and had verses about joy and peace hurled at me like weapons. I have often berated myself with angry recitations of God's promises about peace and joy, and my apparent faithless failure to feel them.

What I have learned is that anxiety, self-harm and depression are symptoms. Sometimes they are symptoms that something is medically wrong with our bodies. Just as we would not deny an asthmatic or diabetic their medicine, and just as Paul encouraged Timothy to take wine (medicine) for his stomach, we should not "tie up heavy burdens" of guilt and shame onto people's back.

In other cases, depression and anxiety are symptoms of deep emotional and spiritual pain that needs to be healed.

One of the things I struggled (and struggle) with was believing that I should be able to "just pray" and be delivered from my "bad" and "un-Christian" emotions.

You know something interesting? There are many recorded healing miracles of Jesus in the Bible. But there were many other people in the world at the time who He did not miraculously heal. One Bible-recorded person who was left un-healed was the apostle Paul.

I've realized that my desire for a short-cut (miracle) may not be what God will do.

And some days, I'm okay with that. There are other days, painful days, where I cry out for freedom from my soul-wounds and the aching, overwhelming emotions that spring from them.

I am learning that His grace is sufficient for me, because His strength is made perfect in weakness. I am learning that my weakness and "failures" in no way change the depth and passion of God's love for me - something my performance-oriented self deeply needed learn. God's love is not earned by my ability to always be joyful, or to be a perfect example, or to be able to accomplish everything anyone needs. His love towards me is not changed by my emotions or how badly I am hurt or not. His love for me is constant, no matter how depressed or anxious I am.

I love that about Him.

I love too that He is patient and persistent.

After I had initially been in counseling for about two years, I (and my counselor) felt that I had accomplished a lot of healing, and ended our sessions. My depression did not plague me, and while I sometimes felt anxious when circumstances were hard, I had effective coping strategies that did not involve self-harm. Most importantly, I had learned that I had worth. I was not repulsive, I was attractive, and wanted.

On a mission trip to South Dakota, God performed a healing miracle on my spiritual heart. Because of my previous relationship, I "learned" that I was not to be trusted with hearing from the Lord. As a result, I completely cut off my emotional connection with the Lord, terrified of making a mistake. During prayer with one of the leaders (on the interminable drive there), God restored my emotional connection with Him.

He's so sneaky.

I enjoyed three months of depression-and-anxiety free living, complete with a precious emotional connection with Papa-God.

Little did I know, He was giving me tools and preparing me for a severe work of healing.

Gently, He brought to mind a memory that I had long, long buried and forgotten, because it was too traumatic and painful to deal with. However, even with someone as tender and kind as Jesus, this kind of intense trauma is cripplingly painful.

I have once again found myself plagued with depression and anxiety. I've experienced terror and paranoia in these past few months that I did not dream possible. Speaking of dreams, my nights have become haunted with the horror of my past and my inability to stop what happened.

But this time is different. I understand that my depression and anxiety are symptoms of the trauma I experienced - I have every reason to feel depressed and anxious. I am not ashamed of these emotions. They do not reflect a meager trust in God, a failure or sin on my part. They are part of my healing process, and unless God chooses to do a healing miracle once again, they are something to be endured.

Consider:

The more I learn the Bible, the more verses cross-reference in my head.

Juxtapose these two verses:

1 Corinthians 13:12
"For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, then I shall know fully, just as I am fully known."

1 John 3:2
"Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, for we will see Him just as He is."

(Emphasis mine).

Intriguing implications that I can't begin to wonder about.

For the record, I am extremely comforted knowing I am "fully" known.

Sick

=_=

I hate being sick. I especially hate being vomiting sick.

My tummy felt odd all through Monday night, but lately, that's not unusual, so I didn't think anything of it. I was a little surprised when it continued to feel unsettled throughout Tuesday.

Then I threw up on the street. ^_^;

I spent Wednesday in bed, eating nothing.

While my tummy protests vehemently, my mouth is still wailing for food. I've been able to keep down 7-up and saltines, and I had some noodles yesterday.

Roomie made me delicious chicken gnocci soup. I couldn't finish it, just nibbled some gnocci and slupped some broth.

I think I'm a bit better today, because I can sit up on my own! Hurrah!

Been watching TONS of My Little Pony and Murder, She Wrote.

Everytime somebody eats in the shows it's agony. =_=

Also, my back and right shoulder is REALLY killing me from being in bed for so long. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Ready to be better!

Game of Choice

Life is a game of choices.

You don't get to see every consequence of each choice, but usually you can see enough to make informed decisions.

Sometimes though, you'll get thrown a left curve consequence, and end up in the hospital with a concussion and eye patch. (Although eye patches are cool.)

I'm realizing this more and more, and realizing that each choice I make is a choice of consequences.

True freedom, to quote Lord Vetinari, "is the freedom to take the consequences." (Going Postal, Terry Pratchett).

This includes bad consequences.

I know people who seem to think "freedom" is freedom from bad consequences.

This is not true.

A child sticks their hand on a hot stove. He is burned. He has pain. Choice - consequences. (In the case of my nephew, a stubborn THREE TIMES. He did eventually stop choosing to do that.)

Currently, I am choosing to blog about choice and consequences, instead of eating lunch, even though it's far past lunch time, and I did not have anything resembling a decent breakfast. I'm choosing the consequence of writing, and having emotional outlet and satisfaction, and the consequence of I'm going to be ANGRY hungry later, possibly without the physical or emotional resources to make food.

I'll just go start some rice. Excuse me.

Now I feel better - knowing I have chosen a set of consequences that will (most likely) turn out well for me. I have time to finish this blog (rice takes a bit to cook), and there will be food for me when I'm done!

Not everybody has the ability to choose their own consequences. People who were sadly raised without consequences, never seem to grasp the concept that the laws of universe apply to them. People who have endured trauma, abuse, or imprisonment, lose the capacity to choose for themselves, and that has to be rebuilt through extensive work. (I understand this from the inside.)

But grasping the concept that I get to choose is so freeing - and so terrifying.

No one can tell me what to do.

But no one else can bear the consequences.

There is one exception to this: the cross. And I love this.

(I wasn't intending this to be about Jesus, but apparently, I JUST CAN'T HELP MYSELF. One of the consequences of choosing Him over and over. Heh.)

Jesus bore the punishment for our sin on the cross - a consequence we would not survive doing. But the magical thing is: He didn't take away our choice. We can still choose which consequence we want.

Such a respecter of personhood He is.

Things I am currently choosing:
I am choosing to put my emotional health over my physical health.
I am choosing to eat delicious things, and not worry about "calories."
I am choosing to spend time with friends.
I am choosing to serve at church.
I am choosing to be creative.
I am choosing to study the scriptures.
I am choosing to avoid Facebook.
I am choosing to not worry. (This ... is more of a process that I'm TRYING to do.)
I am choosing to take a chance on my creative abilities to support me. (SCARY! ZOMC!)
I am choosing to buy some things, and not buy other things. <- this works way better for me than a "budget." Just a personal thing.
I am choosing to help other people, when I can, which is NOT all the time. <- HARD choice! =_=
I am choosing to accept help.
I am choosing to ask for help.
I am choosing to not confront people at this time. This is one of those rock and hard place choices where you can't see all the consequences. :/
I am choosing to NOT let other people control me, my time, my resources, my emotions. (Still ... practicing this one. I'm getting better!)
I am choosing to spend money on tea, because tea makes me feel awesome. ^_^
I am choosing to avoid people who stress me out, including Facebook. <- WEIRD for me. Usually, I feel it is my "duty" to be kind and sociable with everybody. Nope. I get choices! =D
I am choosing to let this blog post run on for-EVER! <- maybe not everybody will read all to the end. I'm okay with that.
I am choosing to relax today. And it feels AMAZING.

What are YOU choosing?