Monsters Under the Bed, Part 2

I decided long ago to live open, stay kinetic, and be brave. Yesterday’s post was hard, though. It was too fresh, too new of a revelation, and too raw of a hurt. The funny thing was that I didn’t know that fear existed in me before yesterday! It took a bad case of Writer’s Block and some Divine Drain-O to figure it out. Then it was even harder posting it because blogging, for me, isn’t an anonymous endeavor. I am a volunteer pastor at a local church and many of them read this blog.  I also write the small group curriculum and often use concepts that initially hammered out here. So last night, at small group, I had the dubious privilege of sharing one of my deepest, darkest fears with 15 other people (and which ever of the 45 other small groups in our church used this week’s curriculum).  I wanted to go home and hide under my covers and never come out again. It was horrifying and awful but, at the risk of sounding cliché, I knew that God wanted me to do it.

Now, I don’t know if God used that story to help anyone else significantly. Topics like fighting fear with love usually take seed slowly and grow even slower (obviously!)- I suspect that I won’t know if my words had an impact on anyone for years. I hope they did, though, because I know God used them to help me. Articulating my fears forced me to admit that they existed, turn them around, examine them and understand them.

Then God pulled one of his “God Things” out and taught me a lesson or two.

Mere hours after I posted about Monsters Under the Bed, gifts started showing up. Gifts that took time and energy to make. Gifts that said, “I know who you are!” from people whom I’d never shared this fear with before.  Last night a boxed gift set and a gift card to a restaurant and a kindly worded note, a rare smile from a sad-eyed woman I’ve often prayed for, a chance to hold a long-anticipated baby boy, a card in the mailbox with another gift, and this morning a box of handcrafted soaps and lotions. I know when a so-called coincidence is not a coincidence. These weren’t just gifts that were purchased in haste because of a perceived pity party.

And you were there, and you were there, and..

God KNEW!  I’m so humbled and amazed by a God who has given me my heart’s desire and then took the time to help me see it: a community that has embraced me and my quirky family completely. I still struggle with that fear but it is diminished now. The day He asked me to confront it was the day he crushed its head with, of all things, humble pie as I realized that what I longed for was mine all along. And humble pie never tasted so good. It was very Wizard Of Oz.

It made me think of God in a whole new light. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps it is better to say it helped me understand Him in a whole new way because my head often “knows” what my heart cannot yet comprehend. Today as I looked at our Christmas tree with all of its shining ornaments, I envisioned God much like a parent at Christmas time. Grinning in anticipation as He wraps a gift while listening to an angelic chorus caroling in the background (but it has to be a live chorus because he’s God and probably doesn’t need an iPod). Maybe there’s even a glass of wine. Either way, the gifts He has prepared for me are for me alone. I just have to wait til he gives them. Or, in this case, until he shows me how to play with them.

Thank you, God, for community. Thank you for friends. Thank you for a place to belong. I see them now. And Merry Christmas to you, too.

Monsters Under the Bed

I am afraid of needles. In fact, I passed out when I got my ears pierced! I don’t think that makes me a coward, though, because I have killed poisonous snakes, climbed mountains, been in an airplane that was on fire, and stood face to face with a gun wielding gang member without panicking. I just don’t like needles.  Or motorcycles (to be fair, I think that’s more logic than fear). It’s easy to laugh at our idiosyncrasies and pretend they are the sum of our fears but we all know there are scarier things than spiders. Individual fears are the proverbial Monster Under the Bed. They lurk until we are alone, lying in the dark, recounting our day for God, weighing each thing carefully.  Fear is the Joy Stealer, Heart Crusher, and the Dream Destroyer. It bites our heels and hisses in our ears. It binds our hearts and breaks our lines. Fear is a thief.

What do you fear?

I fear not fitting in. I fear that everyone around me has such good friendships that have grown over a life time of living in one place that I, as a relative newcomer and ARMY brat, will never be able to understand on a level that allows me to truly ‘belong’.  My fear robs me of the comfort of life-long friends. Every time someone says something nice, my fear whispers to me about how truly kind they are to include the new person. It makes me want to be like them but it doesn’t allow me to accept that they might actually consider me a deep and true friend. A very few wise people have caught on to this fear of mine and are slowly helping me overcome it, with the power of love and insight provided by God, but it lingers. Fighting fear can be a long road. I only become a coward when I stop fighting.

What does your fear rob you of?

And what about when a nation is gripped by fear? What happens when an entire people group is afraid of the same thing? Economic decline, violence in the schools, the zombie apocalypse… take your pick. There’s plenty to choose from and a quick glance at a history book will tell us that nations in fear have the potential to do ugly things.  What does our nation’s fear rob us of? I am not wise enough to say but history will teach our grandchildren about our fears and what came of them, of that I am certain!

Whether it is a ridiculous aversion to needles or a world-wide epidemic, if we are to be the light of the world then we must stay on our guard against fear. We must not become reactionary, fear-driven people but rather a people that run to God with our needles, spiders, clowns,  fear-driven desperation and even rage. He is big enough to handle them. In fact, He is the only one big enough to navigate through the tsunami of emotions we feel and plot the true course. We only need to follow his lead despite the fear that claws at our hearts. Keep following, Brave Hearts. Keep fighting because though fear bites our heels for a little while, we will crush its head in the end.

depression

Depression is consuming and elusive. My day can be moving along at a fine pace and I remember to thank God for the sunshine and the butterflies and the way the specks of dust catch the sunlight and sparkle like little faeries in a wooded glade.  I can lie down at night, safe in the knowledge that I have a good husband, fine sons, and a good life. Then everything falls into nothing and its all I can do to whisper, “Jesus, save me!” before losing myself to the vortex in my soul. These moments come on me with all the violence of a storm and I can't breathe. They pummel me from the inside- roaring to get out, to find some expression, to be free. I cannot describe it better than a struggle for my very existence, clawing and screaming my way back- denying this monster, this enemy, the satisfaction of another moment’s conquest. Yes, living with depression is a struggle that happens from moment to moment. Sometimes I am tempted to believe this lie that I am alone but then Jesus comes. Jesus comes and saves me in the dark. He sets me back on the solid ground of his love and, for another moment, I am safe in his presence once more. 

Somewhere in the world tonight there is a sister who needs to know. You are not alone. You are not broken because you struggle with this melancholy. God loves you and rescues you. The LORD has overcome and the LORD is overcoming. 

-Zonoma

occam's razor

To say, "God healed me" in our post-modern society is a difficult thing and often requires courage. Most of our friends, after hearing that, look on us as if we are slow-witted and to be pitied or, worse, under-educated and un-discerning of the 'logical' processes by which we are now well. This is because, though we are taught that the simplest answer is often the truest, we are also taught that God does not qualify as a simple answer.

-Zonoma

bad day

Yesterday was a good day. The fog lifted and the clouds parted and, for a few moments, I was able to see the goal - my fondest hope, that elusive city on a hill - and move forward with a smile on my face.

Today the mists have returned, as dense and miserable as they ever were, and I am utterly lost with the whispers of my heart and the loving nature of my God as my only guides  through this dejection and anger. The dejection is actually easier to handle than the anger. I can speak with it and keep putting one foot in front of the other as the path presents itself. The anger is trickier. I can't escape it and suspect that I may need its services to survive the coming days but, for now,  it is a siren luring me into actions and words I know I will regret later. It is so compelling, though, and it feels good. 

Today is a bad day.

-Zonoma

hope is hard

How can one live on the razor's edge between heartbreak and hope? It is living as a whisper within a world where profanity is not spelled out in syllables but in decibels. It is wanting to weep where tears are forbidden and longing to laugh where smiling is taboo. It is carrying a terrible sickness and having the antidote, too.

It is quiet here in this place.

-Zonoma