Superwoman Falls From The Sky

"Can we build it? Yes, we can!"
"We did it! We did it! We did it! Yay!"
Soundtrack of my life as a mother--in more ways than one.

Not only do kids' TV shows spout the "I can do anything I put my mind to" mantra. It's what I tell myself... all the time. For that matter, it's what I often hear about myself from others. And maybe it's your constant refrain, too. It's a wonderfully confidence-inspiring idea... If only it were true! Of course, if you've ever tried something like keeping your house perfectly tidy while several children inhabit it, you know that, well, just putting your mind to something doesn't always make it so!

But what about things that are actually possible for a human being? Indeed--and here is where I often struggle--what about areas where you are actually gifted, where you've excelled, or where you at least feel pretty capable? Sometimes--or if I'm honest, most of the time--I like to think that if I CAN do it, I SHOULD do it. It's kind of nice to be Superwoman, wind in my face as I jet through the sky and swoop down to save the day again and again and again, solving problems left and right, getting the job done, lifting enormous piles of responsibility high above my head with an appearance of ease. Having the applause of the people and my own satisfaction at another task completed doesn't hurt too much either.

Except that humans weren't made for this. Inevitably, real-life Superwomen fall from the sky, crushed by burdens they weren't made to bear. It can't all be done and done well. And if you've lived life believing that man was intended for flight, the fall can be hard.

For several years now, I have managed--by some manner of insanity and yes, only by God's grace--to run a household of 6 while homeschooling the kids, having people into our home frequently, baking all our bread and making healthy food from scratch, and blogging more or less regularly, in the midst of life fun including a pile of puppies, flooding, multiple moves, Nathan's major surgery, church planting, and the occasional panic attack. Nothing I felt totally unqualified to handle on its own. But the sum of the parts has proven greater than this woman's capabilities.

This spring, after a last few months of homeschooling that were sending me down a quick path to nervous breakdown, we finally made the decision to send our older three kids to school in the fall. This was not an easy decision. I believe that most any form of schooling can be done in a God-glorifying and family-benefitting way, and we've always been open to reevaluating our schooling choices each year, but now that it's moved out of the theoretical and into reality, I've discovered just how idolatrous my standard for myself really is. It's not that I'm afraid of school; in fact, I'm really excited about this new little school and the expanded opportunities our kids will have there. It's not so much that I'll miss having the kids around during the day; while I'm sure there will be days when I wish they were home, I'm looking forward to having more space during the day for my youngest, for the new business I've started*, and for building relationships within the church, the school and with our neighbours. No, what's made this decision especially difficult is that I won't be a homeschooling mom anymore. It means that I won't have that one massively extra thing on my resume of daily activities that makes people say, "I can't imagine how you do that!" It means that I've failed my own standard for how much I should be able to accomplish in a 24-hour period or a calendar year. Superwoman falls from the sky.

And yet, there is grace for this fallen superhero. Having idols exposed is a gift. Being forced to give up responsibility that was too great is a gracious invitation to rest. Recognizing weakness and limitations is an opportunity to lean hard on the strength that is only to be found in Christ. And getting knocked off my own pedestal brings with it more humility to accept others' limitations, too.

I can't do just anything I put my mind to. And there are times to say "no" even to things I am theoretically capable of, so that I can better serve my Lord, my family, my church, my neighbours. Life is not a superhero action flick or a kids' overly-confident TV programme. There has only really been one superhero, one who could do it all and bear up under it. And he's done it all so that I don't have to. His name is Jesus, and this failed superwoman is laying down her cape at his feet. Because that's precisely where it belongs.

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*Just to be clear, I didn't give up homeschooling in order to work. The work (which is only part-time) comes primarily out of a need to fund the kids' schooling, with the side benefit of being a good way to meet our neighbours.

Reminders of Grace

Last week, I was a mess. Well, actually, I've been something of a mess for the past month, but last week was particularly unpleasant. A perfect storm of hormones, badly planned schedules, deadline pressures and kids who are more than ready for a spring romp around the park left me feeling more monster than human. Or perhaps I just felt more human than I'd like to think I am. I had to repent on far too many occasions of anger, selfishness, impatience, pride and general lack of grace, joy or hope.

So it was in some ways rather amusing for it to be a week in which several different people sent notes about how my writing had been an encouragement to them, and also a week in which we were informed that we make raising four kids look easy, and in which my kids--at their own initiative--put time into writing me letters about how much they love me. It was amusing, and at the same time humbling, because half the time I'm struggling to put into practice the things I write about, and more than half the time raising four kids makes me feel like I'm on the edge of insanity.

The truth is, I'm just an ordinary woman. I lack wisdom, I have to fight unbelief (and I don't always win), and I'm a sinner. I write about putting my trust in God rather than earthly things, and then I have a week where I put my trust in myself and end up like the peg in Isaiah 22 that gives way under the undue pressure put on it. I write about Jesus being my Sabbath rest and then I go through the week just clinging to the hope of some sleep on the weekend. I write about preparing for hormone dips, and then get myself into some trouble by forgetting to do just that. I write about seeing trials as glorious opportunities to see God's work, and then feel like I'm fighting to the death against my craving for comfort and ease. (Just keeping it real here, folks!)

Tough Call

Have you ever been called to something exciting and responded enthusiastically with faith, only to encounter difficulty and discouragement? Have you hit hardships in ministry, trials in parenthood, obstacles in your service? If you're anything like us, these things can have a tendency to make you question whether you are where you're supposed to be, whether you heard the call right, whether God has somehow sent you out only to abandon you on the journey. These are the times when I especially love the "real life" nature of the Bible. I'm so thankful that God's words to us aren't just glorious transcendent ideas that are totally detached from our very earthly experience in a fallen world. There are lots of glorious transcendent ideas, to be sure, but they are woven in and out of the true stories of real men and women who lived, who doubted, who praised, who suffered, who were weak, who were strengthened, who by God's grace pressed on despite their sin and failings and the failings of those around them.

One in particular that has been an encouragement to me lately, in a wintry season of tougher ploughing and some discouragements, is the prophet Isaiah. As I mentioned, when the going gets tough, we can fall to the temptation to doubt God's call on our lives, to wonder if we're on the wrong road. But I think that's because we read about people like Isaiah and his glorious call, and we stop too soon in the story. Isaiah 6 is a common passage to quote at missionary commissioning services. There have been songs written about it. Most of us are familiar with verse 8: "And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?' Then I said, 'Here am I! Send me.'" We love this response of faith, the enthusiastic "Here am I! Send me." We want to be that guy. Here is Isaiah: He has just seen a vision of God in all his holiness and all his mercy (verses 1-7). He has had his sins atoned for, and is ready at the call of God to go out and take the news of this holy, merciful God to the people. It's exhilarating!

But we stop too soon if we stop there, because we miss what God's call on Isaiah actually is. For the next 5 verses, Isaiah is informed that his ministry is going to be one of tough ploughing, of closed eyes and ears, of proclaiming destruction alongside that proclamation of mercy. Isaiah starts off with a readiness to go out as the Lord's messenger, and the next thing we hear out of his mouth is "How long, O Lord?" The rest of his ministry is replete with hard messages, difficult circumstances and unhearing people. Isaiah even has to give a hard rebuke to one of the most godly kings of Judah when Hezekiah's pride leads him to foolish action. Of course, Isaiah also has the joy of seeing prayers answered, an enemy army decimated in the night at the Lord's hand, a king miraculously healed of a terminal illness, time turned back on its heels, and the honour of being one of the foremost proclaimers of a coming Messiah who would bring salvation, blessing and peace to his people as he rules in glory. But even the most glorious of callings comes with its share of "How long, O Lord" cries. If we forget this when things are dark, and WE'RE the one crying "How long, O Lord?" we're liable to feel like we've somehow wandered off the path of God's will.

Not a Speedbump

A few weeks back we got together for our weekly dinner with Darryl and Charlene Dash, and during the course of the evening, ended up doing an internet personality test for fun. When mine--not surprisingly--came back saying that I thrive on security and stability, Darryl jokingly asked what ever made me want to get involved in church planting. I didn't have a snappy comeback then (apparently, I'm not quick on my feet either). But as it happens, the very next morning our security and stability was tossed to the wind as we received news that we were going to need to move from our condo when the lease is up in April. While not totally a surprise (we had been warned of the possibility a week before), it was certainly not what I originally had in mind for this year. I confess that I had been looking forward to a year devoid of moves and surgeries (still hopeful on that front) and other large changes. A year of relative safety and stability. Hard work, of course, but nothing too unpredictable.

God had other plans.

Sabbath Rest

For the last several months, we've been making a point of taking one day a week to spend time together as a family and enjoy a brief vacation from our regular work and tasks. We catch up on some sleep, read books, watch something worthwhile, play a game with the kids, and enjoy each other's company without the distraction of normal household duties. This takes some discipline, of course. It means that I need to have the house relatively tidy and the laundry done (and put away) by the night before. It means planning simple meals ahead of time or picking up some food so I don't spend the day in the kitchen (or at the store). But it's been worth the harder work and planning to have a day when I can lay all those normal cares aside and rest my mind and body in preparation for another week of busyness and work.

However, I've noticed something else that has cropped up with the Sabbath resting, too--something not so helpful. I've begun to catch myself putting my reliance on getting that day off, putting my trust in the chariot of extra sleep and the horses of relaxation. "I can get through this coming week," I think, "if I can just have this one day of peace and quiet."

But the fact remains that--try as hard as anyone might--normal life is no great respecter of Sabbaths, especially if there are kids around to enjoy them with you. Just the other week, after a pleasant full night of sleep and the expectation of a lovely day of R&R, Nathan had to run out briefly to help a friend. No sooner was he out the door when my dreams of refreshment were rudely dashed by The Great Diaper Explosion, which cruelly combined itself with a clogged drain and the previous night's bed-wetting accident (not mine) to create a Sabbath morning of laundry piles and shower scrubbing (and all this while pancakes were burning and children were screaming about all the upheaval). Yes, all-in-all a very restful Sabbath morning! Just what the doctor ordered....

Horses and Chariots

Where are you going to get your strength from today? I know many of us have the stock answer "God", but how often is it truly true? I have to admit that I'm far too often likely to look to other things instead: a good night's sleep, a little alone time, an effective workout, a balanced budget, a productive day, some well-behaved children, another cup of coffee, or maybe hope of a coming spring...

When I first started studying through Isaiah, I read those passages about putting your trust in idols made by human hands, or the horses and chariots of your allies, and thought, "Oh, well of course that's pretty stupid." And then, of course, I had to immediately consider how "stupid" I can be on a daily basis. We certainly don't have any room for horses or chariots (or anything of good size) in our condo. I don't talk to wooden statues, or look to their help to get through the trials of my day. But I still have horses and chariots and idols in less taking-up-space-in-my-living-room forms. Idols aren't just things we love more than God, things we spend more time on than God. Idols also include the things we look to for strength when we should be looking first to God. When things are tight financially, I get strength from adding up all the figures in my head one more time, just to make sure (that I'm in control). When I'm wiped out from an afternoon of disciplining rowdy children, a little "me time" and a good cup of tea or coffee provide comforting respite. When the to-do list is growing, I get my satisfaction and energy from being able to plow through it in a good day of hard work. When the winter blahs are pulling me down, I long for the arrival of some warm air and the little green buds on the trees.

Dear Mothers, Pastors' Wives and Other Invisible Servants

Do you ever wonder about the value of your backstage service? 

It's been a season of some "invisibility" for me around here, and I'm feeling it. There have been events I wanted to be at, times I wanted to meet people and be a tangible part of our work here, and for one reason or another, I've ended up home alone with the kids while Nathan took part. Cold January nights alone have a way of making you question whether you're really as valuable to a ministry as those people who get to be the mouth-pieces, the leaders, the visible ones. And I know the sinfulness of my desire for human recognition and jealousy of those who are chosen to be on the visible front lines while I serve in the background, but that doesn't mean I don't still struggle with these feelings from time to time. So this week, I needed a reminder from myself... As our former pastor is fond of saying, "Don't forget in the darkness what you believed in the light." My post today is a letter I wrote years ago in a season of light to another ministry wife (somewhat adapted). It's written to a wife and mother, but these things really apply to any of the silent servants in the church.

Dear friend,
I think the desire to do something "noticeable" is a pretty common struggle for mothers, and is probably felt more in women whose husbands are in public ministry, because we see our husbands getting noticed all the time. While this is not a current struggle for me, it is certainly something I have struggled with in the past, and I'm sure will struggle with at times in the future [Ha! Here we are!], so the following words are as much a reminder and preparation for me as they are, hopefully, of help and encouragement to you.

Hard Questions (Meditations on Ecclesiastes)

"I'm not a perfect parent, but I've worked hard to faithfully love my kids and teach them God's truth. So why, oh why, are they in the trouble they're in right now?" "Years of labour to build up this business, and it's all wiped out in a sudden market crash! Lord, why? Was all my toil for nothing?" "All day long on the news, all I see is people around the world being oppressed, and their oppressors are laughing all the way to the bank! Where is justice?" "Christians around the world are being slaughtered for their faith, and the West is silent. How long, O Lord, how long?" Or maybe it's as mundane as, "I'm not even done with the laundry for 2 seconds and someone falls face first into the mud. Will the cycle never end?!"

Futility. It's all around us. And if we're really honest, these are the kinds of cries that plague us, even if we really believe that God is good, and in control, and trustworthy. But if we're also really honest, many of us feel some level of guilt about asking such questions. I mean, if I was a good Christian, I wouldn't ask those kinds of questions--I would just trust God and rejoice always, right? I saw an interview once with a well-known Christian who had just suffered terribly tragic circumstances, but who was testifying that he was given such faith that the question "Why?" never even crossed his mind. And I felt guilty because I've never faced anything like he had, and yet I've asked hard questions about the pain in this world.

But Ecclesiastes is a book that calls us to question our doubts about our questions, because it is a book FULL of hard questions, of groaning under the seeming futility of life, of weariness in the face of life's difficulties. Right from the get-go, we are faced with the outburst, "Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does a man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?" Not very comforting, eh?

We like the book of Proverbs because it seems to present a neatly ordered, logical universe where the hard-working prosper, the wise stay out of trouble, and the godly man enjoys a good life. We struggle with Ecclesiastes because it takes us to a world where children are trained up in the way they should go, and lo and behold, they depart from it! It is a world where the hard-working may lose everything in a single sweep of God's hand, where the wise live in wisdom and still die like the rest of mankind, where our toil is futile and we cry out with the Psalmist, "Why do the wicked proper? How long, O LORD?" This is a world where even the people of God come up against seeming absurdity, futility, vanity.

Like Job and the Psalms, Ecclesiastes shows us that God is not afraid of our hard questions and our groaning. In fact, he is so interested in our hard questions that he's written them up in his book. If we were afraid to ask, it's right there on the page, begging for answers.

Here's the thing: The Bible never calls us to be stoics, leaving all those earthly, human emotions stuffed in the back of the closet (with the awkward cousin, no doubt), while we piously repeat our mantra, "All things work together for good... all things work together for good..." and pull ourselves forward to a better day. It also never calls us to the happy-happy-joy-joy kind of "faith" that always responds immediately to job loss, illness, war, oppression or death with a "Hallelujah! Life is great!"

We are called to praise God in all circumstances, yes. Job DID fall down and worship even when his property and family were wiped out (Job 1:20-22). And all things DO work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28). But we live in a once-perfect world horribly distorted by sin, terribly twisted by futility. And we FEEL it. So often, we spout Romans 8:28 at ourselves and others in pain without the context. We skip the part Paul didn't--a creation full of suffering that groans, that feels futile, that longs. And we also groan inwardly as we wait for creation to be made new. We hope, yes, but often it is a groaning hope.

Paul himself was given a thorn, and while he says he is content with it, that did not come until he had PLEADED with the Lord 3 times to remove it (2 Cor. 12:7-10). Jesus himself, very God of very God, as he was in agony on the cross, cried out and groaned under the weight of his suffering. He wasn't just making a neat theological point about the end of Psalm 22 when he screamed out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34) Even our martyred brothers and sisters who stand before the very throne of God in heaven are crying out, "How long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?" (Rev. 6:10)

Yes, there's a way to ask hard questions with a bitter and angry spirit that challenges the goodness and wisdom of God, that thinks it knows better. And yes, we must avoid that. But there is a questioning and a weeping that is very much a part of biblical Christianity. It is a groaning that presses on in faith even when the answers aren't quick in coming. It is a mourning that sits and weeps with those who weep, rather than offering platitudes, or demanding that they just trust God and get over it. It is a faith that leaves room for people to ask hard questions about the meaning of life and the absurdities of suffering without panicking that God can't handle the heat.

Is there room in your Bible for hard questions?

All Sufficiency

Lately I've become rather uncomfortably aware of the fact that I don't have a whole lot to offer. Time seems to run pretty short these days, what with full days of school that are often followed by evening events. Energy is running even shorter as I pour most of what I have into schooling the kids on the one end and on the other, working toward the growth and development of Liberty Grace Church. Money? Well, we're in the middle of fundraising, and while we're encouraged by the generosity of many and have yet to really truly be in need, we're not exactly sitting on a mountain of cash either. Then there's wisdom needed for new seasons of parenting older kids, and sanity sorely lacking for Round 4 of potty training.

So I regularly need this little reminder from 2 Corinthians 9. It speaks specifically to financial matters, but applies to all of life:

Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly; whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one should give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work.

I'm not the one who needs to have lots to offer. It's God's abundant, sufficient, gracious provision in all things that enables me to do the good work he has called me to, and not just to do it, but to abound in it, and cheerfully, too! So that I can honestly say with Paul (in 2 Cor. 12:), "I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls!" on behalf of my husband, my kids, my church community, and the many around me who do not know the good news about Jesus.

Seasons

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance...

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time for war and a time for peace.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

I love the changing of the seasons. As we head into fall weather, I am enjoying the cool, crisp nights and seeing the trees start to change into bright bursts of fiery colour. I doubt there will be any smell of woodstove here among the condos, so I'll have to imagine that one (does anyone make woodstove-scented candles?). But at least there will be hydro savings now that open windows are enough to cool this place down. And hey, pulling out the fall clothes is not unlike getting a new wardrobe, right?

I've always said that I would never want to live in a place that where the weather was constant. Summer and blue skies and beaches are great for a while, but I would actually miss having snow from time to time. Of course, one could argue that if I love having 4 seasons, Ontario is not the best choice of locale, but, well, here we are. And it is NOT always winter (though it feels like it, come late March).

If you've been following this blog, you may have noticed that it's been a bit quiet here lately. Okay, it's been completely silent. And that's largely due to the fact that we're changing seasons around here--new church planting season, new parenting season, new school year. The funny thing is that as much as I love going through the annual changing of the seasons, I'm not such a fan of new seasons when it comes to the story of my life. There are many times that I wish I could just plop myself down in a particular season of life and stay there, at least for a good long while. Or, I wish that I could fast-forward through several seasons until I get to one that seems a little more comfortable.  Changing seasons involves new ways of doing things, a reordering of priorities, new tasks, old tasks to which I now need to say "no" or "not so much", and the acceptance that there are good and pleasant things that I will not ever have in the same form again. (Granted, there are also things to which I say a hearty, "Good-bye, and may we never meet again!") And it often seems like I'm just settling into a routine, just beginning to feel like I've got this one under control, when I'm sent spinning into another season with new demands for which I feel completely under-equipped. Do you ever feel this way?

But in the midst of changing seasons, I am more than thankful for an unchanging God! When things feel confusing or out of control, I'm thankful that we have a God who always knows what is coming and always has it under perfect control. When I have to lay aside projects or hobbies or blogging for a time because a new season is more demanding of me, I am thankful that our God never runs out of time or energy to do everything He wants to accomplish in my life and in our world. When I feel completely under-equipped to handle the rigours of a new stage of life, I am thankful that God's power is made perfect in my weakness. And I am thankful that in all the seasons of life, I never need to worry that any of these truths about God will change and somehow leave me hanging.

Of old you laid the foundation of the earth,

and the heavens are the work of your hands.

They will perish, but you will remain;

they will all wear out like a garment.

You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away,

but you are the same, and your years have no end.

(Psalm 102:25-27)

Fall is here and winter is coming. But even if the beauty of fall is short and the deadness of winter is long, whether the season is fun or challenging or downright agonizing, I can lean confidently on the unchanging nature of God until he brings me into the unchanging beauty of eternity.

Limited: It's Why We Need Him

It's kind of funny to me how often I get to thinking and writing about something here on the blog, and within short order, seem to get the "opportunity" to really practise what I preach. Maybe I should just spend my time writing about how exciting and happy and easy life always is... except that would be a lie :) No, I should just be thankful that God doesn't just let me say good and true things about him, but also gives me chances to really believe it practically.

So anyway, I've been writing about limitations, and how we have so many and how frustrating they can be, but also about how encouraging it is that we have an unlimited God who cares for us, and a God who became limited in order to identify with our limitations and to save us. And so, of course, this past week I have been stretched to my limits. And to be perfectly honest, I haven't fared so well with them. When I'm tired to the verge of insanity and experiencing anxiety symptoms again after several months of relief, it's hard to maintain hope and peace and joy in Christ's work on my behalf and God's good care for me. When I'm struggling to find strength to complete basic housecleaning and dog-walking tasks along with the rest of my to-dos, I'll admit that it really is far easier and more "natural" to wish Nathan had two fully-functioning knees and could sweep or walk the dog or lug our suitcases up and down the stairs than to rejoice in the suffering (albeit light and momentary) that I've been granted. Tears have been cried, impatient words have been uttered, resentments have had to be repented for.

And in the midst of all this, I've often been reminded of the truth that was already going to be Part Three of this brief little series on limitations: we are limited, and it shows us our desperate need for God. I've been studying 2 Corinthians for the last several months, and this truth is stated over and over again in that book. Our limitations (and trials) are meant to drive us to God, who is the only one who can really accomplish what needs to be done anyway.

For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.

For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing,  to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things?... Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God.  Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, who has made us sufficient to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.*

When I am confident in my ability to handle anything, to do everything, even to react with joy and grace when my limitations do show up, I am confident in myself, relying on myself, thinking the power belongs to me and giving myself the credit.

But when I reach my limits, and I mean really reach my limits, there is nothing left in ME to rely on. All I have left is God's limitless strength, sufficiency and power. But that's exactly where my reliance needs to be--even when I do seem to be puttering along just fine on my own. We have a God whose power is enough to raise the dead, whose sufficiency has no bounds, whose strength is infinite. And he invites us to rest our weak, powerless, insufficient selves in him.

It's been a week of being stretched to my limits. But if it forces me to put my trust outside of myself into the one place my trust really belongs--the power of my limitless Heavenly Father--then there's cause for joy and room for grace.


*(2 Corinthians 1:8,9; 2:15,16; 3:4-6; 4:6,7; 12:7-10)

Limited: It's What He Became

My last post was supposed to be Part One, and this was supposed to post shortly thereafter. But due to some limitations, it's now going on two weeks since my first post. This one doesn't require reading the other, but if you'd like to read Part One, it is here.
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I don't know about you, but I'm not usually a big fan of my limitations. If it were up to me, I think I'd gladly trade the need to eat and sleep for the chance to complete 10 lifetimes of work in one (just the need though... I'd take the occasional nap and have gourmet meals just for fun).  I'd top up my IQ, get the most education possible, and have an unlimited cash flow. Heat wouldn't slow me down and cold wouldn't keep me indoors. Yep, if I could order things "my way", I'd do away with the limitations that keep me from accomplishing the things I want. And of course, it would all be in the interest of mankind in general, right? I mean, some of my ambitions are pretty noble. Well, okay, having things easy wouldn't be too bad for me either.

Of course, there's only one who is not limited, only one who can actually do everything he plans, only one who has the infinite power and goodness to do what is truly best for mankind and the world at large, and that is God. 

That's why I find it pretty shocking to think that God actually made a choice to take on limitations, to live on this earth for 33 years in a human body. He didn't have to; he chose to be limited. The God who is present everywhere came to us as a newborn infant, weighing a mere few kilograms, completely helpless and totally dependent on his mother to provide milk, clean cloths and a warm, dry spot to sleep. The God who knows all things had to learn that those funny wiggling things in front of his face were actually his own fingers. The God whose hands supply the food for all living creatures was himself hungry. The God who created trees and clay and stone had no permanent home in which to lay his weary head. The God who is eternal experienced death on a cross.

Why? Why would anyone, let alone God, choose to take on those very limitations that I so often despise?Because in order for us limited people to be saved out of limitless rebellion, he had to become like us. In order to put himself in our place as a perfect sacrifice for sins, he had to first put himself in our place as a human, and humans are limited.

"Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.  For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham.  Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted." (Hebrews 2:14-18)

The glorious thing about all this is not only that I have a God who became limited for a time in order to free me from death into limitless life (though that were enough!), but I also have a God who understands experiencially what it is to be limited. He doesn't shake his head at my desperate need for sleep in the midst of the legitimate needs of my kids; he's had to go way to rest at times when people were clamouring for healing. He doesn't condemn me when my intellectual limitations just don't allow me to grasp the solution to a problem; he had to spend time learning to tie a sandal and read a book. When I really want to serve in 10 different ministries but am not physically able to be in all those places at the same time, he doesn't look at me and say, "Boy, she sure needs to grow in service!" (though I do). He also had to turn down opportunities because he needed to be somewhere else.

And this encourages me to be faithful in what I can do, by the grace of God, rather than just be frustrated with what I can't (Hebrews 3:1-6, 4:14-16). This encourages me to rest in Christ's perfect record of work rather than putting my self-worth in 10 lifetimes worth of unceasing, unlimited labour (Hebrews 4).

He chose to become limited so that I don't need to be limitless!

Limited: It's What We Are

Have you ever had plans to accomplish something, fully convinced it was a manageable workload, set yourself to work... and unexpectedly come straight up against the sheer wall of human limitations? If you've been human for long, it's probably happened to you at least once! Maybe it was a new job that you felt well-qualified for until you really got into it and realized exactly what it was going to require. Maybe it was a reasonable deadline that you were somehow still rushing, and perhaps failing, to meet at the final wire. Perhaps a party you were excited to plan until a week of the flu took you down. Or maybe it is just the 5-minute job of sweeping the kitchen floor that succumbs to your body's desperate cry for sleep.

Last week was one of those weeks when I found myself against that frustrating wall--more than once (and hence, no blog post). Lots to do but limited time. Lots of people to be around, but limited social energy. And even early in the week when I did feel like I had both time and energy for the things I wanted to do, I was limited by flooding and power outages. More than once, I fell into bed exhausted, still thinking about the 2 or 3 other things I really "should have been able to fit in."

My frustration brought to mind a line from a song by Trip Lee:

You may be thinking you're a beast, but believe me,
You still gotta sleep in the evening,
Gotta eat, need heat when it's freezing.

Yes, I like a little hip hop from time to time. And I frequently need to re-listen to that particular song (Limitations--if you have rdio, you can hear it here), because when it comes to filling my to-do list plate, my eyes are often bigger than my stomach. Sometimes it is pride: "Sure I can pull that off! Who couldn't?" Too often, my self-image is warped; I see myself as a beast, able to haul all kinds of loads and bear all kinds of burdens without breaking a sweat, and far too often, I'm actually surprised to discover that I don't hold up. Sometimes, especially lately, it's ignorance, being unaware of what's really realistic in the face of new circumstances. Since Nathan had his surgery 2 months ago, I've had to take on some tasks that used to be his, and I'm still adjusting to the new requirements. For example, I used to run errands once or at most twice a week, and he would run all the little ones in between on his way home from work. Now I run almost all of them, and for a homebody like me, that's a real energy sapper, and affects what else I'm good for on a given day. But I'm still learning to take that into account. And of course, sometimes it's a mixture of pride and ignorance that's very difficult to pull apart...

So many things we wanna get our hands on,
So many heights we wanna reach that we planned on,
And we was thinking that we just missed our chance, homes,
But ain't reaching long enough no matter what we stand on.

The point of the song and, I suppose, of this post, is that we are created as limited, finite beings, and we need to humbly accept this. But we are also created by the limitless, infinite God of wonders:

He has no hunger; never does he sleep or he slumber.
He's never limited; no enemies can ever come up with a victory;
He's got the 1-UP; he runs us.

I need to remember that I'm a human being with limitations; I can't do it all! But I also need to remember that I'm under the care of the all-powerful, never-failing God who always brings his purposes to completion, even on those days when I hit that wall.

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary;

his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary,

and young men shall fall exhausted;
but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;

they shall run and not be weary;

they shall walk and not faint.

(Isaiah 40:28-31)

I've got a couple more thoughts, but due to the limits of time and space, they'll wait for another day.

Room For All

"The evangelical culture ties together faithfulness with extroversion. The emphasis is on community, on participating in more and more programs and events, on meeting more and more people. It's a constant tension for many introverts that they're not living that out. And in a religious world, there's more at stake when you feel that tension. It doesn't feel like 'I'm not doing as well as I'd like.' It feels like 'God isn't pleased with me.'"

- Adam McHugh (1), as quoted in Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain

Is there room in the church for introverts? This is one of the questions Susan Cain asks in her fascinating--and fairly helpful--book Quiet. (She's not just picking on the church--she asks the same about the business and education worlds.) Cain writes about the difficulty fitting in and flourishing that introverts may find in all the community- and interaction-oriented activities in the typical evangelical church and concludes that we have "taken the Extrovert Ideal to its logical extreme... If you don't love Jesus out loud, then it must not be real love. It's not enough to forge your own spiritual connection to the divine; it must be displayed publicly. Is it any wonder that introverts... start to question their own hearts?" (emphasis hers).

So, is there room in the church for introverts? Yes, yes, and yes again for good measure! It is true that some things done in church services and meetings make introverts feel uncomfortable (a common example is the "greet your neighbour" moment). And yes, some of these things may be done with little thought given to how introverts, or new people, or people with disabilities or others might react. But the simple fact of the matter is that there are many parts of being a Christian that are biblically commanded that make introverts feel uncomfortable. Show hospitality to strangers; do not neglect the assembly of believers; we believe and so we also speak; be very bold...  Does that mean God loves extroverts more? By no means! There are plenty of biblical commandments that introverts may find more simple, while the extrovert sitting next to them is squirming(2): be slow to speak (and quick to hear, though McHugh has written a good post on the stereotype of introverts as good listeners and extroverts as poor ones), let no corrupting talk come out of your mouth, but only what is useful for building others up, pray, meditate on God's word day and night... And then there are those that are hard for all of us, like "bless those who persecute you".

The truth is that God's standards are not all easy for anyone to follow, whether you are an introvert or an extrovert, a child or an adult, a man or a woman, rural or urban, Chinese, German, Canadian or Rwandan. There are parts of God's character that some of us find easier to follow than others, but each of us will come across points that make us uncomfortable, that require serious effort. In fact, we will all encounter areas in following Jesus that require nothing less than the power of God's spirit working through us to accomplish, our own personal offering being nothing but weakness and insufficiency!

That is how I have sometimes felt about participating in church gatherings. Some days that's hard for me--I feel the nagging temptation to stay home and be quiet. And yes, there's a good time and a place for quiet, for sure. But one of the defining characteristics of a follower of Jesus is that he is no longer his own, no longer independent. God makes him a member of Jesus' body, to work together with other Christians as members of the same body. That's pretty intense and intimate imagery for an introvert! That's getting into my space just a little more than I'd like! And that's why I need God's grace to live this way, just like the stereotypical extrovert needs God's grace to sit still and meditate on God's Word for a while, even though friends are calling on her to come be social.

Furthermore, whether it is "comfortable" or not, loving Jesus out loud is part of truly loving Jesus. James says that faith without works is dead, and the Bible is full of exhortations to speak God's truth and declare God's praise. If no one else on the planet ever sees you act or speak in a way that demonstrates love for Jesus, you should question your heart, just as you might be questioned on your love for your spouse if you never did or said anything public to show it. However, "public faith" doesn't mean you have to be standing up on the pew, shouting for all the world to hear. Yes, it might make you uncomfortable nonetheless. But Christianity isn't about being comfortable--not in this life anyway. We worship a crucified Jesus and he was NOT comfortable on that cross! But he went there so we didn't have to take the punishment for all the times we are too afraid to love Jesus out loud, for all the times we don't pray, don't invite that lonely person over when we feel the Spirit nudging us, don't shut up and really listen. And he gives us his spirit so that we can have grace and power to live like he did, even when it doesn't suit our personality profile or our dreams.

I know for a fact that there are aspects of Christianity that make plenty of extroverts feel like God isn't pleased with them, like they're not living up to His standards. But the point is that none of us can meet them all. That's why we need Jesus--because we are weak, imperfect people who can't do it on our own. (In fact, the only people Jesus said he didn't come for were the self-righteous, who think they can please God in their own strength.) As my husband likes to say, we don't need a crutch; we need a stretcher! It's also why we need the church--we need the strength of our brothers and sisters to help our weaknesses and they need us for the same reason.

And this is where God gets the glory: when he takes weak, sinful, needy people, gives them Jesus' record of perfection--whereby we also gain his eternal pleasure and affirmation--and puts all our different personalities, giftings, backgrounds and, yes, weaknesses together in one body called the Church, and then shows the power of his Spirit when he works through these same people to transform the world. It's not about me and my temperament needs. It's about him and his glory. So come in, all you introverts! Join us, all you extroverts! Follow Jesus, all you men, women, boys and girls! And bring them in from the four corners of the earth!

"Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free [introvert, extrovert]; but Christ is all, and in all." (Colossians 3:11)


A couple questions to consider:
-Are there things we do in our churches that unnecessarily cause certain kinds of people discomfort? Is there a more accommodating way we could accomplish the same goal? Are we showing appreciation for the quieter servants among us?

-Are there things that God has asked us to do that I am avoiding because it doesn't suit my "natural inclinations" or temperament?

_______________________________________
Notes:
1) As described by Cain, I think Adam McHugh comes across as fairly negative toward the Church and its expectations of introverts. However, in his own personal writings, he is much more balanced, and offers both critique of the church's dealings with introverts AND honest, helpful encouragement to introverts who need to grow in the way they function in the church community.

2) The whole discussion of introverts and extroverts is unfortunately based largely on stereotypes. I'd like to explore this a little more in another post, but for the time being, when I use the terms "introvert" and "extrovert", I'm using them according to standard (western) cultural usage. You may or may not fit the stereotype.

When Easter is Dry

The glorious freedom proclaimed by the cross, and the amazing hope of eternal life shouted by the empty tomb are things to be celebrated with tears, loud singing and exuberant joy. And often, these truths bring just such a reaction from my soul. But I'll be honest: this particular Good Friday and Easter Sunday, my emotions didn't cooperate. We're in the middle of a lot of changes and I was tired, physically and emotionally. I spent more of my thoughts on how my two-year-old was behaving during the Good Friday service than on the wonder of my Saviour's death for me. And Easter Sunday started with kids up at a crazy hour clamoring for candy. When we met as a church, I felt pretty emotionally flat-lined. At least until the subtle guilt started rising... At that point, emotions have a tendancy to go south. I mean, what kind of Christian am I if I'm not leaping for joy on the day that is the highlight of the Christian calendar? A brief dry spell that would be just that on any other day suddenly seems reason enough to doubt my salvation on a day when I'm supposed to be especially devout.

Have you ever felt that? Ever had a Christmas season when the miracle of the incarnation got lost in the busyness? Or a Thankgiving when gratitude was not particularly abundant? Or an Easter when you really just wanted to go back to bed? It seems to me that while lack of wonder and awe and thankfulness expose our weakness and sin on any given day, they feel to us to be especially condemning when the calendar says it's time to be amazed and grateful.

And that is precisely why I am thankful for the events that inspire the Easter weekend celebration. The cross proclaims that I am justified by faith alone, not by the measure of my fervent devotion on Good Friday (or any other day). It is faith in Christ and his work that saves me, and not the number of tears I shed because of it. And the resurrection cries out that death and sin have been fully overcome, and that the day is fast approaching when it will be impossible to feel anything BUT joy and delight at the magnitude of Christ's work on our behalf!

The cross and the empty tomb should move us to celebration. But when instead our hearts fail to leap and our soul feels dry, it is the cross and the empty tomb that free us from the condemnation of the laws of religious observance. It is the cross and the empty tomb that respond to the devil's accusations of failure and apathy with the cry, "No! I paid for these sins, and I am making this cold heart new!"

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.
Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us... For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation (including spiritual dryness), will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:1-4,33-39)

Moving The Introvert Walls

A couple weeks ago, I read an interesting and helpful blog post about introverts and evangelism by Seth McBee. Whether you're an extrovert or an introvert, it's worth a read, and you can find it here. The basic point of the post is that introverts shouldn't be expected to evangelise in the same way as extroverts, on whose personality many common evangelism methods are based, and should rather be encouraged to share the gospel in ways that are more tailored to their quieter, more backstage personalities. I've had first-hand observation of how an introvert can be very effective at sharing Christ with others in quieter ways: my mother was, is and likely always will be the epitome of "introverted", but that hasn't stopped her from obeying Jesus' command to go and make disciples. My dad, who is the extrovert, is great at striking up a conversation with just about anyone and quickly drawing them in. But my mother keeps their home open to all the people he brings in, serving them with good food and a pleasant atmosphere, and as she gets to know people, she has a quiet way of bring the wisdom and good news of Scripture to bear on their lives. I know several people who would say that it was as much my mother's hospitality and careful quiet words that brought them to Christ as it was my father's invitation and loud gospel proclamation. So I agree whole-heartedly with this post.

But as an introvert, I want to follow it up with a challenge for all my introverted friends. Because it is not the main point of his post, it is easy to gloss over McBee's caution that we not use our introverted personality as a crutch. As I've seen in my own life though, I think we ARE often guilty of using our introversion as an excuse to go hide in our room, or to remain a "silent cleaning assassin" our whole life long and never go beyond that. We introverts need time away from people to rejuvenate. There's nothing sinful about that; it's part of our God-ordained personality. But it is very easy for us to want that too much. I am so often like the Pharisees: in the interests of staying within the confines of the law, they developed many extra rules and traditions around each point of the law to make sure they didn't come close to breaking any of God's actual commands. I do the same with my personality--I know I need quiet time by myself to rest, so to make sure I get enough, I build a personal space wall that is far higher and farther out than I truly need. You know, just to make sure... And pretty soon, I start believing that the far-out spacing of those walls is what I really do need to function. I become more and more selfish with my time and space, and justify it by my personality.

I'm discovering lately though, that while my fundamental need for "alone time" hasn't changed, I don't need anywhere near as much as I thought I did. And I'm actually capable of talking to people I don't know very well, and being open with them. We've been around more people in the last couple months than I ever thought possible, and not only am I still functioning, but (in the interest of full disclosure), I'm actually enjoying getting to know lots of new people and opening our lives to them. Yes, I've had days here and there when I really feel the need to tune out and have some quiet, to be in my own head space for a nice long while. But most days, little snatches of peace here and there have been enough to sustain me. And you're talking to the girl who was just reminded the other night of how someone we lived with for a few months (in the same house) figured really getting to know me was a lost cause because I was so good at keeping to myself the whole time!

I'm challenging myself, and all you introverted folks out there, to question our wall-placement. Are we guarding our time and our tongue more than necessary? Are we willing to sacrifice personal space to love others and see many know Christ? What is more important to us: that we function in a way that is always comfortable and convenient to us, or that lost and hurting people feel our care and hear the good news we have to offer? I'm not asking us to morph into extroverts. I'm not asking us to completely forsake quiet rejuvenation--we do need that to function and be better able to care for others. I'm not asking us to be the babbling brooks in the midst of a crowd. I'm not asking us to go stand on a soapbox in the town square and preach to a bunch of total strangers. Not today, anyway. But I am asking us to examine our reasons for remaining hidden and silent, and to look for ways that we can move our walls closer in and lower down, to push ourselves to serve others and speak into their lives even when we did it yesterday. Or this morning. Or when they are a complete stranger.

Yes, we are given different personality strengths from extroverts, and we should use our bent toward reflection, quiet service and one-on-one communication to God's glory, working alongside our extroverted brothers and sisters as one body with many different members. Yet there is also joy to be found in stretching and pushing and sometimes serving out of our weaknesses. And let's face it, folks: there is a definite weakness in having a personality that pushes us away from people. (Not just knocking the introvert here; extroverts have their own weaknesses.) But here is an opportunity to know God's strength perfected in our weakness. We will not always feel fully functional and refreshed when we are embracing the call to hospitality and evangelism. We may occasionally feel like we just can't sustain one more hour with people. But that is a place where God's grace and power have the chance to shine, carrying us through and holding us up when we know we have no more energy of our own. Any grace I've had these past few months to go on joyfully interacting with people when that seems like all I'm doing all the time has been exactly that: GRACE! And so here is not a new law, but rather a new chance to see God's sustaining grace at work in your life.

Start by being a cleaning assassin for Jesus. Be an introverted evangelist, and by God's grace, excel at it. But also allow God to move your walls in, to perforate them and even tear them down when they are in the way of reaching others with his grace, because in so doing, you'll allow more room for his grace in your own life.

Interrupted

I am not a fan of interruptions. When I have a plan for how my day is going to go, and some person suddenly decides it's the perfect time to need something from me, I often respond grudgingly at best. I'm not sure it matters whether the plan involves work or rest--it's the fact that my plans must be waylaid in order to serve someone else. Like right now, as I'm sitting down to type this and my daughter thinks that's a great time to dump out the crayons all over the floor and feed them to the dog... excuse me while I interrupt this blog post to go clean up.

Aaaaand... we're back! As I was saying--now that the crayon-dumping munchkin is safely behind the bars of her crib--I am not a fan of interruptions. But we've been talking a lot about building community lately, and a rather necessary part of building true community is being willing to put your plans on hold to meet needs and serve others around you, even when it seems very inconvenient. It's a rather essential part of being able to truly love others, when we can put aside our own desires--without irritability--to care for them. As the Sara Groves song goes: "Love to me is when you put down that one more thing and say, 'I've got something better to do.'" It's essential for marriage; it's essential for parenthood; it's essential for fellow members of Christ's body; it's essential for our ability to love and serve the unbelievers around us.

And it's very hard. We are selfish creatures who would really rather get that one more thing done, or just have some peace and quiet to read a good book after a busy week, even if someone beside us is drowning.

But this is not so much a post about the how much I hate to be interrupted. It's more about a discovery I made this week as I was reading through Mark's Gospel.

Jesus got interrupted.

Maybe you've been aware of that fact for a while. But until this week, I think I've always had this idea in my head that as fully God, Jesus couldn't possibly know what it's like to be interrupted, because he always would have known what was coming. Apparently, not so. We don't understand all the ins-and-outs of how Jesus existed as fully God and fully man at the same time, but I've come across a few places now where Jesus plans one thing, and quite another happens. Take the feeding of the 5,000. It's a story we all know, but I had never before noticed the context of this miracle. This was the plan: The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. (Mothers, can I get a witness?!) And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves.

So Jesus knows they all need a good meal and a nap, and he makes it happen, right? Um, well, actually, it looks more like this: Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things. (Mark 6:30-35). And the people are hungry, so he goes on to have his disciples--those guys who so badly needed to rest--distribute bread and fish to thousands of people, and oversee the clean-up afterwards! (Can you imagine the WORK?)

Jesus knows what it's like to have your plans changed on you. Jesus understands the temptation to go right on with your own plan, to say, "Come on, people! Haven't I served you enough lately? Go away and let me sleep!" He sympathizes because he's gone off for some time alone, hoping no one would notice him, and been interrupted by some foreign woman who won't leave off begging him to heal her demon-possessed daughter (Mark 7:24-25). When I want a little peace and quiet to write, and instead I have to go clean up someone else's crayon mess, I'm not facing something that Jesus never knew. There really is no temptation that is not common to man, Jesus included!

Yes, rest is good and needed. After all those 5,000+ people have full bellies and good teaching, Jesus does dismiss his disciples and go spend some quiet time alone in prayer. But there is also a place to set aside the necessities, to get a little less to eat for dinner because your neighbour dropped by at the last minute and you set an extra place at the table. There is a place to forego the nap, or the neatly folded laundry, or the "family only" movie night in order to show the love of Christ to another.

Somehow, the knowledge that Jesus has been right there with me in the interruption, has felt the inconvenience himself, gives me extra grace to push on through and serve others when I'd rather serve myself. After all, when he was faced with the temptation to run away and hide in the closet (or bathroom, or pick your place of secrecy), he had a stronger emotion that overcame the temptation: compassion. He saw the people around him, and they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he loved them. I am those people. You are those people. We were like sheep without a shepherd, and out of compassion for his lost sheep, he interrupted endless ages of being worshipped in splendour and enjoying all heaven's glories to come to this dirty, sin-filled earth to know hunger, and fatigue, and need, and to rescue his lost sheep from their shepherdless wandering. If Jesus did that, if he subjected himself to such an interruption, how can I not put aside my own pleasures and desires to serve his sheep, both those who are already found, and those who are yet lost? Indeed, Jesus subjected himself to such an interruption so that we might be given his perfect record of compassionate service, and so that we might receive the Holy Spirit who empowers us to joyfully set aside our plans and instead be a conduit of his compassionate love to others!

I'm not a fan of interruptions, but maybe I need to be, because interruptions are an opportunity to know the love of the Jesus who was interrupted for me.

Anxious Body, Thankful Heart

The first time it happened to me, I was in the middle of a choir rehearsal at church, about 10 years ago. All of a sudden, for no reason I was aware of, my heart felt like it was racing away and my whole body started to get that tingly pins-and-needles sensation. We didn't know what was going on, and since I was saying my chest hurt and I thought I might pass out, someone called the paramedics. They administered oxygen, but since that made me feel quite a bit better and my vital signs were normal, there was no further testing and I went home. It didn't take too long for that experience to fade, and I didn't think much of it until it happened again almost 3 years ago, during my last pregnancy. This time it was far worse--something was sitting on my chest and I began to feel like I couldn't breathe. It was the middle of the night, but I woke Nathan up in a panic and he called the hospital. As he relayed the nurse's questions to me and I was forced to talk, the tightness slowly began to ease, and eventually, whatever was weighing down my chest jumped off and ran away, though it left me shaken and wiped out. It was at this point that we recognized this as a panic attack. It was also at this point that these attacks gradually became more frequent, until last fall, when they began occurring at least once a week. We thought something might be wrong with my heart that was triggering the panic response (considering my family history, that wouldn't be surprising), but several trips to the ER and for all kinds of testing and monitoring turned up nothing but occasional palpitations in an area consistent with stress. In other words, my body was just reacting to stress in an extreme way. And the frequency of the attacks was exacerbated by the fact that I was having such frequent attacks, since they leave you feeling mentally strained and physically exhausted, which in turn, raises stress levels. It can be a vicious cycle. Thankfully, in answer to many prayers, the regularity of these episodes decreased significantly after a few months, and I've only had one or two major attacks since then. But even now, it is not uncommon for me to have minor symptoms at night when I lie down to sleep, especially if it has been a busy day.

And so it was encouraging for me to read Stephen Altrogge's post over at The Blazing Centre this week, in which he talks about his own struggle with physical anxiety.

I appreciated, first of all, that he distinguishes between physical anxiety and worry (or "being anxious"). As he says, worry is a sin. The Bible clearly tells us to be anxious for nothing. But while I can often have physical anxiety symptoms that are compounded when I start to worry about my symptoms, they are very rarely initially triggered by any conscious worry on my part. In fact, these days more often than not, the anxiety attacks don't make me anxious. I can be settling down for a good night's sleep after a fairly busy day, thinking nothing of it, and suddenly feel my heart start to pound. I know what it is now, and it doesn't make me worry (granted, it's a lot easier to keep from worry when you know the cause), but it may keep me awake for a long time just because I'm physically uncomfortable. Even though it's called physical anxiety, manifesting itself in panic attacks, there is often no mental anxiety or panic behind it. It's almost as if my physical body reacts to stress by flipping out, even when my mind is calm and handling things well... even when, at least to the degree that I can tell, I'm entrusting my health and the busyness of the day to the Lord. I struggled for a while with this distinction, worrying that I must be worrying, and that my sin of anxiety must be triggering these episodes. But while it is true that actual sinful anxiety can trigger them, and can certainly compound them, physical anxiety symptoms are, in and of themselves, an involuntary physical reaction. This is very humbling because there is nothing I can really do to fight it. Something is wrong with the way my body functions. I mean, I can take medication (I'm not, but I have nothing against it, and if things were extreme again, I would be filling a prescription). I can try to minimize stress (when the doctor told me, with my 4 young children in the office, that I needed to lower the amount of stress in my life, I wanted to laugh at him!). But these things can only help so much. It is out of my control, and I can't be released from the effects by appropriating God's forgiveness, sharing my struggle with a godly friend and seeking to walk in obedience by the Spirit's help. I can't change it, and God has made no promise to change it or even that he desires healing in this area. He may even desire to allow things to worsen, for the sake of my growth in sanctification.

But Altrogge also goes on to talk about how he's learning to see physical anxiety as a mercy (albeit a hard one). I have found the same thing in my own life, and have often thought of it in the same category--as a thorn of weakness sent to demonstrate my need and God's overwhelming strength. I've always been seen as a competent, put-together person who can handle a significant amount of stress and upheaval--"tough as nails", as my husband often puts it. And I've always thought of myself this way, too. That is, I thought of myself that way until last fall. Then God sent 3 months of concentrated physical anxiety into my life that turned me upside down and shook all the change out of my pockets. I would have an attack, and it would be over, but the loss of sleep (for me, they happen most often at night) and the stress on my body would leave me worn down and weak for a few days. Then, just as I'd start to recover, I'd have another attack. It's not easy, or even possible, to be totally competent and put-together when you're not sleeping, your body is running itself down, you don't entirely know what's wrong, and you've still got 4 kids to care for. I began to realize that it didn't take much for me to be put out of commission. I mean, it wasn't like I had cancer, or actual heart problems. They were just panic attacks. But that's how weak I am--my body's reaction to stress is enough to take me out. I began to realize that I couldn't handle the schedule I was on. The human body isn't meant to run indefinitely. I'm limited. I began to come to the very real realization, each time my chest clammed up and I couldn't get my breath, that God holds every next breath in his hand, and it is his to give or take away as he sees fit. And while all this could have made me fall to pieces, or get angry at God, or question his goodness, by God's grace alone, it has actually worked to make me more dependent, more willing to accept my limitations, more humble and more thankful for every day of life and health that I do have. And so, I too am thankful for the hard mercy of physical anxiety.

I had a mild attack just the other night--actually, the same day I read Altrogge's post. It wasn't fun and I lost a fair bit of sleep. But if this thorn is what it takes for me to learn to rest in God's strength alone and to be humble enough to ask for help from others, I'll learn to welcome it. It shows that I am weak and incompetent and my body doesn't even know when to calm down when my mind tells it to, but God is glorious and all-powerful and his being never freaks out when things get a little chaotic or stressful, and HE is the one who empowers me to do what he has called me to do, even when I'm exhausted and something is sitting on my chest. And one day, after this thorn has given him all the glory he has purposed it to give, he will remove it forever! (Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!)