Jesus Loves Even Asses

[Shocked gasps, followed by exclamations of "How offensive!"] I know, I know...what could I possibly MEAN by that title?! Well, certainly Jesus loves donkeys. After all, He created them. And He would even pull one out of a ditch on the Sabbath.

God gave us our shapely bottoms as part of the creative design of our human anatomy, so I'm pretty sure He has a fondness for those too. Along with our eyes, ears, feet, etc.

I am actually referring to the THIRD and more colloquially employed definition. I admit that I have seen someone behaving rudely and thought to myself, what a jerk. I have even told people on occasion, "You're being a butt." And when "butt" doesn't seem quiet descriptive enough...I have even put some, at times, in the category of "ass." It's a derogatory term meaning jerk or idiot. It may not be a kind connotation, but it's less vulgar than ___hole or ___hat. What can I say? I am not perfect. Which brings me to my point. At times, if judged by our behavior, we all can and HAVE been asses.

I mean, after all, he who is without sin can feel free to throw the first posterior-shaped stone. We’ve all been rude at some point in time—whether to a stranger or to a loved one. Each of us has stooped to the level of saying something hurtful to someone—something that we knew would hurt. We’ve been snappy, grumpy, impatient, and downright unkind.

Perhaps we’ve even cut in while in traffic. Or we’ve gestured at someone who did—either the “throw up the hands, open mouth wide, and narrow eyebrows” gesture, as if to say, “What on earth are you doing?!”- or some more vulgar representation of the sentiment.

If you fall into this type of behavior more quickly or spontaneously than others, it is no doubt an area you need to work on. If you find yourself hurting or offending others often with your words, it’s definitely a problem area.

But all is not lost. God sees the person you really are and loves you no matter what. In fact, I had this one tattooed on my back because I love it so much: “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39).

And that also means that the people you categorize as asses or jerks or idiots or whatever—well, God loves them too. In fact, He sent His Son to die for them.

Let’s face it. No one was born with “Ass” or “Future Ass” stamped on his or her forehead. That’s not who they were created to be. So why is it that we so readily assign such a label (or similar one) to people who, quite often, we don’t even know? We are quick to judge people’s character, many times, based on one inconsiderate action. But haven’t we all been inconsiderate?

I am just thinking that the world would be a better place if we gave people the benefit of the doubt more often—maybe even said something nice, though the situation would have us growl and snarl. Don’t we overcome evil with good (Romans 12:21)?

Certainly, there are consequences to negative actions, etc., etc. But why should we be repaying evil (or perceived ill will) with evil? It’s why King Solomon said, “Above else guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life” (Proverbs 4:23). And if we are not spreading life around us, we are spreading the opposite. I’m not saying “be a doormat.” What I am saying is “don’t always be so quick to defend yourself; don’t make the world a darker place than it already is; be the light Jesus called you to be in the world; don’t fall into ass-dom just because somebody got to the checkout line first at the grocery store—and by golly, you were headed in that direction!” Sometimes we make mountains out of molehills—kind of like getting a butt enhancement—it may be impressive and draw attention, but it’s not because it looks good.

I’m just going to say it. Seeking justice over petty things; being rude to cashiers, receptionists, servers; calling people names (whether they can hear you or not) doesn’t look good on anyone. Let us not be some of those who honor God at other times but do not honor Him when we forget that He’s watching. Does our behavior reflect Christ? After all, Jesus says, “Those who honor me I will honor,…” (I Samuel 2:30).

I Peter 2:17 says, “Honor all men; love brotherly fellowship; fear God; Honor the King.” May we be honorable in the way we conduct ourselves.

In short, yes, Jesus loves even those who behave as asses…but it’s not desirable or praiseworthy conduct. Rather, “whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Colossians 3:17).

 

 

Keeping the Heart

 

 

Here I am again, confessing my struggles to the masses. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of my struggles represent some of yours as well. At any rate, I  want to share a bit of how my heart responded to difficult circumstances, over the past couple years, in some unhealthy ways—and how I have emerged on the other side of that internal struggle.

When COVID happened, it caught me off guard, but I thought—along with a lot of other people—it’s just temporary. But one change after another in my previously peaceful and well-ordered world told me that it wasn’t nearly as “temporary” as I had thought.

If you know me well, you know that I’m not a political thinker. Typically, I avoid politics. But I found it hard to ignore the political quagmire at the heart of this pandemic. And it’s not that I needed to ignore it—it’s just that I needed to guard my heart; and I neglected to do that.

Gradually, as I watched others’ responses to rules, data, and the like, I became offended—and I wasn’t even just offended at the virus or at leaders in government. In fact, I find it difficult to hold onto bitter feelings toward political leaders because I see them as far removed from my daily routines and concerns—even if, in fact, they may be responsible for circumstances I find myself in. No, I became offended at people—people I knew. Not necessarily individuals—though I grouped some of them into the mix of “people” I often referred to: Why don’t people get it? Can’t people see that this is largely spiritual? How can people trust the government? People.

Because so many people I cared about seemed to hold a completely different perspective, an opposing spirit rose up within me, even though I was reminded from time to time that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood…” It didn’t make sense to me that people believed what they did, but instead of taking these things consistently to the Lord…I took them personally.

I have always been a person of the heart—but when my heart felt wounded, I focused on the political, philosophical, and perspective-driven differences between myself and others; and those differences began to create a gulf. I didn’t want to go to church. I didn’t smile much—at least not genuinely. I kept going through depressive cycles. I pulled away from people I care about. It wasn’t like me at all. And it hurt me in the long run. I was so busy agonizing over how the opinions of others could actually be their opinions that I lost sight of my sensitivity—and some of my love for people grew cold.

Even after the Holy Spirit had convicted me about the ugliness I was allowing to creep into my heart, I would think I’d let go of these feelings, only to grab them back again. I realize now that my identity was out of whack; I wasn’t seeing myself the way God saw me, so I wasn’t able to see others that way either.

Now it hurts my heart to realize how low I actually sank. While believing I was on “the right ship,” I was actually capsizing myself! 2 Timothy 2:24 says, “And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful.” It wasn’t that I spent much time actually quarreling with people (maybe a couple lively discussions on Facebook); it was the quarrel going on within me. I felt powerless—and I think I blamed others for that. The enemy knew I would internalize and therefore not find healthy outlets for how I was feeling. He knew that as long as I didn’t, he could keep pouring salt in the wound. And sadly, I let him. My defenses were down. My spirits were low. My heart was compromised.

A dinner meeting with our pastors helped me feel better in some ways. But there was still so much I saw as “unresolved” within the church as it related to mandates, government control, and the like. Shouldn’t we be taking a stand? But in my heart, I was crying out to have purpose and value again; I had lost sight of the purpose and value God had already placed upon me. Fortunately though, the door to my heart had begun to crack open. The love shown by these pastors spoke to me. And over time, I let that love sink in…a little deeper…and a little deeper.

In John 13:34, Jesus says, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Notice how he says “love one another” twice? It’s like he knew it would be difficult at times. If we look at how Jesus loved people, we see that it was with selflessness and servanthood. True, those who sought to destroy him and stood against God’s eternal plan, didn’t always receive the most loving words. But those of the body of believers received Jesus’ utmost care and attention.

People have choices. Even if we believe they may be misguided or heading down a wrong path, we are called to love. And if we are walking in that love, it will be something we seek to pour out—not something we hold back. That should’ve been evident to me much sooner. But in all my self-perceived vindication, I was neglecting the condition of my heart. Proverbs 4:23 instructs us, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.”

The door to my heart had an opportunity to swing open again, following some situations toward the end of 2021, in which I had taken a poor approach in response to “offenses”—with some people that I love very much. It was as if the Lord said to me, “See what you are capable of? You are not trusting in me with all your heart; it appears you are trusting in yourself. And your path is getting crooked.” Proverbs 3:5-6, one of my all-time favorites, says this: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”

It doesn’t mean we can’t know things or have an understanding someone else doesn’t have. But in all of that—how we manifest our knowledge and understanding—we must be Spirit-led. It was devastating to see how much I was not. And how I had hurt others. And through that ordeal I got in touch again with the sensitive heart God gave me. I began praying for Him to soften me—and to help me to see people the way He sees them (something I’d always been good at before).

I have just begun going back to church wholeheartedly. It was just this past Sunday during the service that the Lord said to me, “Do you see the face behind the mask?” I knew immediately what He meant; it wasn’t a literal question—it was a spiritual one. I had been neglecting to see the forest for the trees, so to speak. He was asking if I would focus on issues of disagreement or if I could begin to see people again the way He does—no matter their perspectives on any of it. That I would see each person as His, worthy of love and honor, uniquely valuable and precious.

If I hold myself at a distance, how can I truly love people? And if I don’t it raises the question, do I truly love God? I want to be someone who is known by my love—in all situations. I don’t want to be at odds with other believers. I have come to realize that my “hard feelings” had actually put me at odds with myself. There was so much I lost through harboring broad-spectrum grievances. And I hadn’t even realized I had lost it until I caught a glimpse of myself (spiritually speaking)—and I didn’t like what I saw. Recently, I was able to let go of it. And guess what I noticed. I started to like my face in the mirror again; I started to feel like myself again; I started to experience the wisdom and insight of the Lord again.

Moving forward, this is my prayer—and maybe it needs to be yours too:

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, KJV).

Sometimes the heart needs to be vigorously cleaned out; and if we ask God to do it, He is faithful to—He is even gentle about it. Like an expert surgeon, the Father knows the procedure will be painful—but He wants you healed. And without a healthy spiritual heart, we cannot love well or have the right perspective. We will think our way is right (our actions and behavior, whether externally or internally)—but it actually leads to destruction (see Prov. 14:12).

Each of us can choose to support or protest masks; to write to our congressional representatives in agreement or disagreement with mandates; to get the vaccine or not to get the vaccine. I don’t have to agree with you, and you don’t have to agree with me. But…if I let disagreement permeate my heart, it becomes a bitter root—and a killer of joy. In Psalm 51:12, David pleads, “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, And uphold me by Your generous Spirit.” God has begun to do this in me. I am being touched in my spirit again. I am more aware of His presence. I am seeing with my spiritual eyes again!

Recently I watched a movie called Room. It’s about a young woman who was kidnapped as a teen and made to live in a tiny locked room, with no windows, for seven years. There is much more to the story of the movie. But I use it as an analogy of what had happened to my heart. It had been taken captive and locked up. The difference between me and the girl in the movie…I actually had the keys the whole time. I just needed to be a bit “shook up” so I would realize that my way of escape—my freedom—was before me.

I am now more convinced than ever that love is the way to go.

“Let everything you do be done in love [motivated and inspired by God’s love for us]” (I Corinthians 16:14, Amp.).                                                                                                                              

 I hope I never lose sight of that again.

 

 

The Misadventure of My Heart

I have figured out some things. If there’s one thing I am, it’s a processor. I consider, weigh, contemplate…and eventually, I come to some realizations, revelations, conclusions. I may not have figured out everything about the struggle I started to go through in 2020; but I have been able to now see some things that weren’t clear to me before. The fog has begun to lift, and I can hear God saying that some things are of more value than I had previously thought.

When our state shut down—and stayed that way, way past the predicted two weeks—I began to shut down too. I am emotionally susceptible to environment; and as my surrounding environment continued to get more and more crazy, things were unfixable deep in my soul. I continued to function—but in a very concealed way; what I mean by that is that I kept my true emotions hidden, buried for the most part, in order to keep going—and try not to feel crazy, along with the world around me.

As I became aware of misinformation and incongruencies regarding data being proliferated, I became less and less trusting of people in general. I can now see that aiming some of that discontent at my church—because they weren’t “speaking up” against the status quo of Covid as much as I felt should be the case—was actually a form of projecting some disappointment in myself, as well as looking for a way out of any social interaction or responsibility, because I no longer felt capable—or stable.

The truth is, my church has navigated through the quagmire in the best way they knew how—and in a very honorable way. But the ramifications of compliance seemed so big, so spiritually compromising and potentially devastating, that I became incredibly frustrated. I couldn’t understand how Christians could support an agenda that was actually hurting people—and destroying our freedoms as Americans. I knew of some individuals who upheld beliefs that were opposed to mine, but others…well, they were “dangerous” because I didn’t know for sure what they believed—and those included some of my church leaders. So I developed less and less trust—and more callouses around my heart.

I felt “informed,” but ironically I didn’t feel good about it. Justified maybe, but not happy—or empowered. Because I had chosen an extreme position in terms of mandates and such, I lost respect for those who weren’t overtly in that camp. And believing that I couldn’t trust or respect my church body as a whole caused me to become more and more isolated and insecure. And, admittedly, less Jesus-focused.

I didn’t stop to consider that my pride might be involved. As I tried to navigate, it was as if my boat got caught in a whirlpool—but I thought everyone else’s boats were going to capsize—not mine. When there is disagreement, it can’t be approached with anger. You can’t confront people with vinegar and expect sweet results. I really tried to avoid sour interactions on Facebook, but I began to avoid interactions altogether—and inside I was getting pretty vinegary. For lack of a better term, I was holding a grudge against brothers and sisters who saw things differently.

Don’t get me wrong—I fully believe that my spiritual take on all this has been accurate—but what hasn’t been healthy was the imbalance I allowed it to cause in my spirit. The negativity I entertained. And the cynicism I developed as a result. I reasoned that if my church wasn’t going to fully, accurately represent the truth—by speaking out against popular opinion—I could no longer attend. I expected more of my church that I did of myself.

When I finally started listening again, I heard God’s voice telling me that this was not me—I am compassionate and merciful by nature; but I wasn’t extending that to brothers and sisters. Granted, I feel that some of what has happened politically in this past season has created a divide that has polarized the church, somewhat necessarily—but that’s where I need to allow Jesus to build the bridge. In my heart, instead, I was saying ‘you stay over there; I don’t want you over here; you are wrong.’ Whether or not I believe someone to be utterly wrong, I still must genuinely love and embrace them, if I am to represent God’s heart. It’s all gotten too adversarial out there. For me, it was mostly internal—and at one point, it actually began to make me physically ill.

In the throes of my disillusionment with the new landscape I saw forming in society, I left the last ministry I was a lead part of within the church. While it reduced my stress level for responsibility, it also gave me permission to back away—as I became more and more disappointed in people. The Bible says that we are to think on whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable…”if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8). I believe this applies to our attitudes about people as well. And it’s something I forgot to look for and dwell on during much of 2020.

In 2019, I co-taught a class at church on “The Language of the Spirit,” but I had stopped listening for the Spirit’s voice. I had allowed what I believed to be a holy agenda to take me to an unholy place.

It was during all this that my husband and I began searching—in the worst market possible—for a home to purchase. I had been told prophetically by John Carney in October of 2020 that the enemy had tried to corral me but that I was made for adventure (that’s kind of a simple paraphrase). So I embraced the adventurous process of house-hunting and placing offers, along with my husband. I wanted the adventure to feel like how most fairy tales end—everything is “happily ever after.” After a while though, this “adventure” started to feel a bit like Hansel and Gretel. It felt like we’d been stuffed in a cage and were just being fattened up in order to be devoured (a metaphor for others’ offers getting accepted above ours). If only Jesus would come to our rescue. And you know what? He did. The perfect home came along, and we got it! I had chosen to believe that God had something out there for us—and I never stopped believing that.

In terms of revival, I also believe God has something for us—but I had virtually stopped believing. I couldn’t see Him moving through the fog of Covid and the judgments I had made about those who saw the whole thing differently. The truth is—Jesus sees the big picture; He can prepare us all; He can redeem anything. Most who know me would agree that I am a loving, non-judgy person. But I had taken on the ugly weight of condemnation of those whose opinions seemed to me to be anti-Christian in nature. But I forgot the important truth that God looks on the heart. Even if beliefs don’t automatically line up, God sees the individual’s true intents.

So, even though I believe many of the conspiracy theories out there, I have stopped focusing on them. Instead, I am getting recalibrated to hear God’s voice. In order to do that, I realized that I needed to clothe myself “with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with one another and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity” (Colossians 3:12-14--thank you, Andrew Foster, for sharing this Scripture).

There’s a part of me that remains so disappointed in myself—I gained back weight I’d lost, I quit a job I’d only had short-term, I quit being active in ministry, I stopped going to church, I fell into depression, I began to look on the dark side instead of the bright side—that I don’t want to be seen. It would be easier to “hide” in some warped sense of individualistic adventure—like Rumpelstiltskin. He didn’t want anyone to know who he was because that was the key to his vulnerability. And we all know how that ended. “…in his rage drove his right foot so far into the ground that it sank in up to his waist; then in a passion he seized the left foot with both hands and tore himself in two.” I feel like I’ve been tearing myself in two, trying to separate soul and spirit, trying to live as if everything is hunky-dory—even though it’s not.

God has brought me into a peaceful space—a beautiful home in the country—surrounded by birds and farmland. It is in that place of peace that I’ve begun to experience revelation about who I am. And faithful friends who keep telling me that I’m amazing, loving, powerful—all the things I have known to be true but had stopped believing fully. My identity.

So let me just leave you with this thought to ponder: Even though your heart is “in the right place”—i.e., you have the best intentions, you want to protect others, you have crucial information, etc.—your heart can be in the wrong place in terms of what thoughts it might be harboring. There might be areas that are festering—that have gone untreated for so long, it allowed the heart to become “infected.”

I want to embrace life again—live fully in the peace God has provided—and not allow a perspective to lead to toxicity. To have a heavenly “heartset,” if you will. Rich Mullins may have expressed it best in some of the lyrics to “If I Stand”:

“There's more that rises in the morning than the sun
And more that shines in the night than just the moon
There's more than just this fire here that keeps me warm
In a shelter that is larger than this room

And there's a loyalty that's deeper than mere sentiments
And a music higher than the songs that I can sing
Stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the Giver of all good things

So if I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can't, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You
So if I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs
And if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home”

Not to be controlled by circumstances, but instead stand on God’s promises and live daily by His grace, in spite of it all. This world is not my final home—and I need to live with that perspective. If I have hurt any of you by my words, or if you feel like I have insulted your intelligence in any way over this last year and a half, please accept my sincere apology. I want God to be glorified in all I do. And that means…doing it His way.

 

 

 

Hmm...How Do I Say This?

 

I have been processing for months...not very successfully, I might add. Trying to figure out where it all went wrong. I believe it was a series of things that precipitated my weakened mental state of a couple months ago. I was experiencing a great deal of stress due to changes in my life brought on by COVID policies--compounded by pressures I had been feeling for a while, personally and in terms of ministry over-indulgence. 

I had tried going off medication for anxiety/depression on the cusp of all of this. And it proved to be unsuccessful. At the same time, I was endeavoring--with some difficulty--to maintain my physical health. 

Over those difficult months, our son moved out, moved in (bringing a friend this time), and moved back out again. And our youngest daughter--who had been somewhat estranged--came to stay temporarily, then left, then came back (also bringing a friend).

In the midst of all this, things got worse. COVID "rules" got tighter and tighter. For a while there were no church gatherings at my place of worship. I began to lose my footing, having removed some responsibilities. But I didn't realize I was losing it right away. I tried a new job that turned out to not be a fit.  As a result, my stress level and feeling of ineffective existence increased. It was soon clear that I was not doing well. 

So I had no purposeful work, no meds, and many adjustments in terms of changing household composition. I finally did get back on meds--a different kind than before--but it has been an enduring process of finding the right balance. And I don't quite have it even yet.

One thing that happened--that I didn't expect--was that I lost my desire to go to church. Life just seems simpler without it, and I feel painfully honest in saying that. I think I became disappointed at the way in which my church as a whole seemed to "honor" the Coronavirus to such a degree that it felt the precautions were more welcome than the people. I know that's my interpretation--I'm simply sharing what happened in my heart and mind as a result. Since that time, things have resumed at church back to what is almost normal. But it simply does not feel normal to me. And I am at a loss as to what to do about that. 

Some bright spots have shined in the midst of the struggle--a rekindled relationship with my daughter, embarking on a new business journey with a dear friend, the birth of a new grandson, out-of-state relatives becoming Oregonians. 

But the dull spots remain--I have gained weight and fallen back into old habits, I overthink and still don't desire to spend much time with people, and outside of being a more involved mom again, enjoying my grandma time, and pioneering my way as an entrepreneur I don't see much of a purpose in my day-to-day processes. 

I lost my faith in humanity with COVID--and that "humanity," unfortunately--includes many people I've walked and gathered with these past 15 years or so. I've heard at least one family member say that I "just don't want to go to church." But it's way more than that. I don't seem to recognize church--or much of anything anymore. I still feel like it's all surreal. But I know it's not a dream either. The ongoing, persistent, ludicrous reality of it all scares me more than anything ever has. 

I just can't seem to switch gears. And maybe I just don't want to. Because doing so means I would have to begin to take on responsibilities--even those of friendly interactions--that I just don't know I can fully commit to. I believe I will once again be steadfast in my overall health. And I am trying not to feel like an utter failure for allowing my mental--and subsequently physical--health to slip. Which means that my spiritual health is probably also in question.

These past nine months have been like being on a voyage and becoming shipwrecked--on an island where nothing seems familiar. But at the same time, there is no motivation to rebuild and embark again. It is a status-quo existence, with some exceptions of course. There are joys, pleasantries. But the zeal for all of life is missing. I can't snap my fingers to get it back. I am still in a process. And I certainly hope the process places me at a more agreeable juncture not too far down the road.

 I have things I need to express. I do fear that no matter how I end up expressing them, my web-like array of thoughts will sound like the rantings of a crazy woman, but...here goes.

I am having trouble establishing any kind of consistency in my life. And I find myself feeling unable to go back to the way things were before I hit this wall. It wasn't even a wall really--more like a landslide that came down a little at a time, then just when I turned my head came crashing down in its entirety. 

I honestly feel alone in the musings of my mind much of the time. Like the more I try to explain it all, the crazier I will sound--and the more lost I will inevitably feel. I have had people close to me ask "what can I do?" out of concern...and "when will you [fill in the blank with an activity said loved one hopes I'll soon return to]?" out of a similar yet heightened level of concern. And I've even been told, "I miss the old you." I feel like I'm not available to the people I should be "there" for. And at the same time, I feel ashamed because I'm not truly being there for myself. 

I suppose it boils down to beliefs. Do I really believe I can move forward--that there is a new horizon out there? And if I do, how much of the old do I include in it? Apparently this is a common scenario women my age find themselves in. Emotional highs and lows, irrational thought, uncertainty about the future, dissatisfaction with life as we know it. It has been documented that the reason for this crisis is not hormone levels alone, but rather hormone levels combined with preexisting brain chemistry. Apparently 27 percent of all women who experienced PMS and 36 percent of all women who became depressed during those times of the month "will be very sensitive to the hormonal changes that occur at menopause" (The Wisdom of Menopause by Christiane Northrup, M.D.). Therefore, I didn't really have a chance of avoiding the struggle.

The problem is...the people close to us tend to take this life crisis personally. We end up feeling misunderstood, selfish, pathetic, out of balance, and even more unable to move forward from the spot we find ourselves in. It's like I've had so many do-overs that I can't fathom having to do another one. But I'm still not satisfied with where I am in life. And it seems likely that I never will be. 

Ever since I was a kid I've taken things pretty seriously and taken things to heart to the point that it has made me physically ill. It's a characteristic so ingrained that I don't know that it can be changed--or that it should. I have made progress over the years with learning to balance matters of the heart, but every once in a while one comes out of left field and knocks me off my feet. It seems that my form of empathy could be a healthy trait if channeled correctly. But I'm currently at a bit of a loss as to how to direct it. And at the same time, my feelings are a bit constrained. It's like when you feel like something is crawling on you, but when you look you can't find anything. I have thoughts, feelings, anxieties--but they are difficult to pinpoint in any measurable or addressable way. I instinctively know what needs to be done on several fronts--but I don't feel like I have the capacity or endurance to carry any of it out. 

I've started one new thing--and I think maybe I am trying to make it my saving grace, so to speak. To make me feel successful and fulfilled at something. But that's putting way too many eggs in one rather broken-down basket. It does give me a creative outlet--and it's a way to spend time with a friend doing something we both enjoy. It's not that the new thing isn't good; it's just that if I'm not careful it may also serve to keep me from finding the answers--and more importantly--the steps to those answers. 

It's like I've taken a one-way bus to a town that seems oddly familiar--but just disorienting enough that one can't navigate it properly. And so for me there's a sense that I don't belong--and probably won't. And that's a feeling I've had since I was a kid. It's just gotten more pronounced with this whole menopausal thing. Perhaps that's one reason I have been questioning the quality of pretty much all of my relationships. And beyond that wondering how I can maintain any of them. 

To feel so misunderstood and out-of-sorts is to be dangerously introspective. But it's a jumbled introspection at best. And it's not falling into place. It's much like dumping out a basket of laundry over and over and checking to see how many times a pair of socks ends up together. There may be a stroke of luck at some point, but it's not something one can rely on. 

The tools I've used in the past don't seem to be working. It's not as if I don't possess them--but as if they're lost in a disorganized garage somewhere. My prayer is that I can access those tools and find new, effective ways to use them...or find new tools.

Hope in His Hands

 

Looking back over the last few months to determine how I got "here," I find that there is a strong truth to be acknowledged--one I have known about myself for some time; I am incredibly affected in my approach to life by the environment I find myself in. But what if one's overall environment changes? Everything is, in some way, different. Much of what could be counted on before is no longer reliable or trustworthy. And tomorrow...it may change again!

In short, I have been traumatized by the events of my world over the past few months.The world doesn't turn the way that I knew it to anymore. In fact, it's cockeyed on its axis as far as I can tell. I've seen people's belief systems and agendas in a new light--and it has scared me. I think one result has been that I trust people even less than I once did. Perhaps it's more of a commentary on humanity, because I feel like I've seen shades of the worst of it in the recent past.

There's no way to know for sure when all this madness in our world may end--and therefore there is an ongoing sense of unrest inside me. But I must seek peace in the midst of the storm. The difference in the current climate is that so much of the storm is man-made. People are seekers of themselves, in spite of evil and in spite of crime. It's all been predicted in God's Word, but to see it actually playing out is disconcerting at best. 

So, how do I find peace when events swirling around me keep proving the depravity of man? "Jesus" is the simple (and to some, trite-sounding) answer. Nevertheless, He is the answer. I know my limitations, but He has no limits. I know my discouragement, but He says to take courage because He has overcome the world. I must trust in His provision and His will--that all things will fall into place according to God's plan and purpose. Until it does, I may struggle--but the footing that is sure is the foundation secured upon Him, the Chief Cornerstone. 

I know the Bible says that faith without works is dead. And what works does He refer to? I believe it is those works which glorify His name and carry out His Great Commission. I believe also that those works could include acts of asserting freedom. But unless we have the peace of God, which passes all understanding, we cannot step out haphazardly. 

I need direction--and it must be God-birthed. Not stemming from the cares of my own mind as I see society breaking down around me. I know He is a just God. And I know my "comfort" isn't the barometer for peace. There is a comfort that goes beyond circumstances--beyond riots and scandals. It is a deep place of peace for a deep-feeling, intellectually-reasoning, soul-searching individual like myself. Taking His hand so I don't go down the wrong street and get "mugged" by the enemy's intimidations and declarations of victory. My hope is in the Lord.

"And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in you." - Psalm 39:7, NLT

Sorting Me Out

I wanted to at least try to articulate (or in this case, postulate) regarding the odd funk I've been in of late, partly for the benefit of others but largely for my own benefit. It hasn't felt like at other times--when the depression I felt was so thick you could cut it with a knife. And it hasn't been a constant wind of anxiety either. In fact, I would describe it more as a disorienting nervousness. It's been weird and disconcerting and has left me searching, as Michael W. Smith sings, "for that missing person." It's like - I knew who I was; I had purpose and vision--but right now it feels like I was just playing a role and am waiting for a new script. But I need God's truth (revelation) as to what that is. It's a time of transition--but to what? I am trusting Him to show me.

So that's sort of the "what" has happened. But why did it happen? I posit that there are several reasons. You can be sure that I have pondered, and re-pondered, and analyzed, and ruminated as to the causes. One thing I've identified is a lack of resolution--about several things: the untimely death of a friend from church, Oregon's prolonged milieu of COVID compliance requirements; some ongoing family stresses. I've learned that resolution is a big thing for me. For example, if there's a shelf that needs to be hung, the only resolution for that issue is to hang it! And until that happens, the issue remains very present in my mind under the heading "Unresolved." It helps to have the little things resolved because then that area of my mind doesn't get as overloaded--there can be temporary relief...until the next thing comes to my attention, which--if unresolved--threatens to make the whole load exceed capacity. There is likely some OCD involved in the mix. 

After COVID changed everything about the job I was doing with the school district, I became more and more convinced that it was time to make my exit. After doing so though, I felt pressure--from within and without--to secure some income. An opportunity came up, and with some hesitation, I accepted it. Though I was repeatedly told I was "doing great," I was definitely not doing great on the inside. There were too many variables and never enough time for me to truly feel like I had a handle on the pins I was juggling. Therefore, I couldn't meet even my own expectations. And the stress load continued to build. And it began to affect my physical health as well. Until I had to step away.

Back in March, I started on a new medication for depression/anxiety. As of October, my dosage has been updated--but my system has not struck a balance with it yet. In the meantime, I haven't wanted to leave the house much and have avoided most interpersonal interaction. There is so much going on in my mind and body that the tracking, responding, and investment required for interaction seems rather daunting--especially with certain people, whom I would categorize as more "intense."

I feel like I'm running on an unreliable battery--you never know when it will need to be recharged. And when it gives out, there's a period of waiting for that life-doing energy to return. I can't not think; therefore, anything and everything has the potential to get added to the stack of unresolved concerns (who am I kidding? It's not a stack; that would be too neat and tidy--more like a box of papers that just lost its bottom, scattering the papers everywhere just as a heavy wind came up). 

No, we can't base everything on our feelings. They are unreliable at best. But it's also difficult to escape them--especially when they seem so ingrained in the body. Which is a big part of what feels different this time around. It's different enough, in fact, that a wonderful friend who's already taken the journey of menopause, pointed some things out that I may wish to consider. In short, I am experiencing many of the manifestations of peri-menopause. My body is likely on the cusp of Hormonal Crazy-town, otherwise known as Menopause. And yes, I've been having occasional hot flashes for some time now.

Interesting that I would find this book today sorting through a bin, almost like it was placed there for me. 

I had to chuckle at the subtitle, as my mom always referred to menopause as "the change of life." I think I'm beginning to understand what she meant. Life doesn't feel remotely the same to me right now, and I do believe bodily changes to be one of the culprits. Something I need to follow up with my doctor on, of course; but I also want to give my medication a chance to do its job so that the map that is drawn of my overall health is an accurate one.

When the title of this blog post came to me, I was thinking "I am trying to sort myself out,", i.e., figure out how things are related and how to unravel the tangled mess. It occurred to me that this may be where the term "out of sorts" comes from--an inability to sort things out. I have most definitely felt out of sorts recently. 

I have a hard time processing my emotions. Therefore, I internalize a lot and in some ways had become desensitized. That's the reason I asked for a medication change back in March, from the one I had been on for years. I felt it deadened my emotions too much. But when I tried going off it prior to that, I experienced a short boost in positive emotions--almost manic, I'd say--followed by a big, depressive, thud. I thought maybe something else could provide better balance. That remains to be seen--but I'm hopeful.

I'm trying not to worry about what other people think (even though I do). I'm trying not to offer to help people with their troubles or needs (even though I want to). I'm trying to teach myself what it means to relax (I am a slow learner with that one). I'm trying not to get down on myself about falling short in the area I've preached so much freedom about--but hoping that my reality may serve to help someone else face theirs. I'm trying to learn to be rather than do. And it's hard.

More than one person has suggested that sometimes you need to pull out of everything in order to see what God has put in front of you for now. What is He saying right now? 

One thing I've sensed Him speaking over me is Peace. I recognize that I have His peace inside me, even when circumstances aren't peaceful. And I am practicing grabbing hold of that peace. I want it all to be well with my soul (my mind, will, emotions)--the heart of me. I feel like a box marked "Fragile" that has been dropped, biffed around, and tipped over so that the contents inside are broken. But unless someone opens the box, everything appears to be fine. I know that God knows me at my core. I need for Him to teach me some of what He knows. 

I know I will make it. I know I will be okay. I know that God will use this time in my life for good. 

Another thing Jesus has been reminding me of is why He had to die. There are fifty reasons presented in the book I'm currently reading. But of course, it all boils down to the most important motivator of all--His love for me. 

I believe in His resurrection power. I believe there are better days ahead. God and I will get it sorted out.