Worth the Risk - Disarming the Dangers of Silent Lies

So we're sitting across the table at lunch and I confess it... this deep fear that's eating away at me.  The fear that it's eventually going to become exposed that I'm just not good enough.  And from there, the words just keep pouring out.  I feel a little foolish - and yet so free.  "I honestly don't know... why are you still here?  What keeps you here?  And how long before you realize you should have left?"  It's out before I can stop it.  I hadn't even realized how it was weighing on my heart until I heard it coming from my own lips.  How often I ask that question and not just about the person sitting across from me in that moment!  Do I really believe I am that unworthy of love?  It sounds ridiculous out loud.  But...

It's the silent lies we keep locked up and refuse to put words to that slowly tear us apart from the inside out.

And then I regain my sense of self.  "Well, isn't this awkward?  Why am I even telling you all this?" And I hear it from across the table, "It's good to bring it out into the light."  Ah.  Yes.  That's what I'm doing, isn't it?  Pulling back the curtain on my heart.  Groping for the light switch with my words.  And it's not like me.  Not really.  I don't do vulnerability.  Not face to face.  I hide behind pen and ink or pixels on a screen, unless you are one of the few in my inner circle, like the roommate who came out on the stairwell the other night to "make sure I didn't jump."  *smile+head shake* And this is a new wrestling for Freedom.  This is a new reaching.  This is the peeling back of another layer, a moving deeper.  And somehow, it's starting to make sense.

It's the silent lies that keep us from hearing the voice of the Father.  It's little whispers of "no" that turn our hearts to stone.

And there is power here.  And maybe this is why everyone around me seems to be harping on Community.  Because when you can speak your internal struggles out loud, you can bring them to the Light, and the darkness loses its power.  And then God can speak, and His omnipotent words can empower you.  And I know because, yes, I felt vulnerable and a little foolish, but once I pushed past that, it's like the fog lifted and the fear subsided and I could breathe again!  And then more words, "I'm not going to try to prove anything to you."  I almost looked around to see who had said it.  Because this Type-A, perfectionist, performance oriented, over achiever?  She has lived the better part of her years trying to prove something!  And when all my confessions were met with few words instead of a bunch of empty ones that would just tickle the ears?  I found my heart more than okay.  I found my heart thankful, because really He is more than enough.  And those glimpses of transformation and God at work are rich grace.

Because in the silence I think I'm a lost cause.  I feel trapped and stuck and hopeless.  Then the heart hardens and the ears go deaf.  But when we are willing to humble ourselves and break the silence, God exposes and speaks and empowers.  And that's what Community is.  It's not "here I am, fix me!"  It's "I'm broken and you're broken and let's bless each other."  It is the safe place where we face the challenge of being vulnerable and expose it all to the Light.  And sure, maybe we get burned.  Maybe we end up hurt, but I know that at the end of it all, He holds my heart and His heart toward me is nothing but good.  So maybe... just maybe it's worth the risk.

Five Minute Friday - True

Taking five minutes of my lunch break to join in again.  Five minutes to be free, to breathe, to let fingers fly, to write, and to let God speak to my heart through it all.  Enjoy this... or (better yet) join in?

GO

Because most days I don't get it.  I can't really speak it, and I certainly can't live it.  What is true.  I'm pretty aware of certain true things.  I'm weak.  I wear thin.  My kids are crazy.  They lack self-control almost as much as I do.  I feel like life is an uphill battle.

But what of the things that don't seem true because I don't always feel them.  What of the things that God speaks into my life that start to feel cliche at best and false at worst?  The Truth that I am clothed in strength and dignity.  That I am beautiful and deeply loved.  That God is always good and always loves.  That all is grace and there are a thousand things to be thankful for.  That when the Holy Spirit lives in me, 5 hours of sleep is actually enough, and the low energy levels?  They don't actually mean that much.

Am I going to define true by how I feel?  It's a question I need to ask every day, right after I ask for God's name to be praised and for His will and for daily bread.  Am I going to define true by how I feel?

Lord, no!  Do not let me!  Because my feelings lie like no one else.  And You can use lies for good because they drive me back to the throne of grace and my weaknesses don't separate me from You.  They build a bridge to deeper trust in You.  And both can be true!  I'm a weak, broken, messy mess mess.  But I am beautiful and worthy of love because of the sacrifice of Christ on the cross.  And they go together.  And true is true regardless of how I feel.

STOP

The one answer when things don't seem to line up...

I stop on a Saturday morning and breathe it deep.  I'm up way earlier than I would like to be.  Nothing can stop the internal clock.  Still it feels good to not wake up to an alarm.  The roommate was up before me and the dishes are clean and the kitchen shines.  Tiny Companion and I head out for an adventure... because I have time!  And the gift list grows.

Dew dampened grass
Clearest blue sky

Golden light that hints of coming autumn

Asia exploring freely

And a perfect cool morning

So I breathe it all deep.  Not preparing and bracing myself for the day.  Just smiling long and breathing deep.  I settle in with pages and am reminded that life is dessert and I've forgotten, but God created life with this gracious rhythm of work and rest so we might remember.  I exhale thanks for all this and life slows beautifully down.  

And then in the same day, there is the moment where you go to zip up your dress and you realize that it doesn't fit, and you have gained so much more weight than you thought (or lost so much less?) and a woman's sense of her own beauty is often so fleeting.  And you wonder if there's even a point to all the working out and watching what you eat and everything in you starts screaming (again) that familiar chorus of "Not Enough!" And you can feel the insecurity rising and the leaning toward the rushing and the noise and you wonder what the answer is and if the battle will ever end.  And the gift list is still sitting on the table and just turn a page back in the journal to find words about thanksgiving and the graciously good heart of Father God.  And it's not that life and God are not good... just maybe I'm not good?  

And I sigh frustrated.  Always the forgetter.  And the battle against that inner monologue is fierce.  I thought I had long conquered the demons of perfectionism, but then they rear their ugly heads again and I am bound tight.  The words escape my lips before I have time to think about it and censor them:  All I want is to be perfect - the perfect teacher, the perfect co-worker, the perfect friend, the perfect woman for him, the perfect Christian - is that really so much to ask?

You have my full permission to laugh.  It's good medicine.  It helps us to see how tightly the fists have been clenched.  Laughing at ourselves forces us to exhale and see the lies for what they are.  So there is this:  I am weak.  I will never be perfect.  But I'm asking this: Can I, like Paul, look at my weakness and call it grace?  Can I boast in weakness and thank God for the thorn in the flesh and these messengers of Satan who speak lies but drive me back to seek Truth?  

In a way I haven't in a long time, I am wrestling with grace and freedom and God's heart toward me.  I love to talk about it.  God's love and goodness and faithfulness.  But to try and line that up with the weakness I feel in my heart and see in the mirror?  So hard!  Can He really look on this mess and see beauty?  Can He really walk with me day by day and not grow weary?  And my heart leaps within and praise dances behind my lips because the answer is - and in Christ ALWAYS is - YES!  He is God.  He can do that!  And it's back to the Sanity Manifesto again - marveling in the mystery of a freedom and love and grace and redemptive work I can't even wrap my mind around. And my response is "amen" to His glory.

Five Minute Friday - Last

So here I am on the last weekday of summer.  Hanging the last poster on the wall.  Putting the last chair in place.  Staring in wonder, imagining the children that will soon fill my classroom with song and laughter and games (and some hair pulling and tongue biting as well to be sure!).  I asked my roommate to meet me for lunch at my favorite little place downtown.  It's best on the weekdays and it will be a long time before we have the time to go again.  We will soon be busy again.  And this is our last chance.

But there's something else to the word "last."  I found out last night that my third grade teacher, my favorite teacher ever, passed away this week.  I'll be part of a choir singing in a different funeral tomorrow.  And I'm thinking about what I would do if I knew something really was my last chance.  Oh how I want to live a life that will last!

I want to be a part of something that will last.  I want to pour my life out for love and kingdom work.  I want to inspire children, go out of my way to make them feel valued and loved the way Elizabeth Jones did.  I want to love like crazy with the love of the Lord the way Ronnie Lorenz did.  This man who had an amazing wife and passed me the communion trays many a week.  Summer fades.  Winter fades too.  Desserts and valleys and mountaintops are all temporary. Love is the greatest of all things that last.

 

Waking up with your eyes closed - How to find enough when you only have a little.

Some days I just feel like I woke up with my eyes closed.  It's like I get so absorbed, preoccupied, anxious that I manage to walk through this life and not see a thing.  And there is almost this instant atrophy of the heart.  I "shuffle along, eyes to the ground" (Col. 3:1-2, MSG) and I don't see or feel a thing, and it starves my soul because, from the very depth of my being, I long to See.  There is something about living with eyes closed that goes against the very grain of who we were created to be.

So I'm walking into church one week, and it was one of those days.  I had woken up with my eyes closed.  I would have walked right by one of my favorite families if the friend with me hadn't called out to them.  And there's my precious girl with her standard cry of "Miss Stephanie!" as she scrambles to get around her father to me.  She hands me this as if she knew how much my heart needed a touch of Beauty and color that day:

An oil jar traced over and over and over because Elisha told the widow to gather every jar she could find and take her "Nothing... well a little bit of oil..." and pour it out and the oil just kept coming and coming! (2 Kings 4)  

And I am flashing back to the time I sat next to this little girl's mother (my professor at the time) during a chapel service.  Two sisters trying desperately to learn how to live like all we have really is enough, and suddenly we're listening to this story of a prophet, a widow, and a little bit of oil that just kept coming.  But this time it's Elijah and he's asking the woman for a piece of bread.  She replies that she has just enough flour and oil to make one last meal that she and her son "may eat it - and die."  (1 Kings 17:7-16)  We all know how the story ends.  She bakes some bread for Elijah first and then keeps baking day after day and finds that "the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry." It was enough!  

That was the first and only time a professor ever elbowed me in the ribs, and I'm glad she did because I've never forgotten that.  But here's where I bring all my musings full circle.  In between the widow declaring how little she has and the moment she realizes God can make it enough, Elijah says three words that once again elbow me in the ribs: Don't be afraid.  A prophet echoing the command God gives His people more than any other.  Don't be afraid.  And I can see these two widows who think they have nothing.  They think they have been utterly defeated.  Sure, the one calls out to Elisha, but her words are dripping with fear and defeat and hopelessness.  Both women are convinced that because they only have a little, they have nothing.  Been there?  Yeah, me too.  And in those times I walk the way I picture those women walking, "shuffling along, eyes to the ground" afraid and ashamed because I am convinced I have nothing.  No strength.  No hope.  No patience.  No energy.  I don't have enough, and I am afraid!  It is fear that makes us blind.  It is fear that causes us to live with eyes to the ground and fists clenched.  And that is why God is so serious about us not being afraid.  

So as I, along with so many others, dive headlong into a new school year this is what's spinning on the brain:  Don't be afraid.  Live with your eyes open.  A little bit is a far cry from nothing, and God is all about multiplication.  It really is enough.

       

When I Choose to Lean - Questions Sustain

It's July and the golden hues outside my window beckon.  "Come," they say, "It's beautiful out here!"  I love the feeling of bare feet on concrete.  It's cool for July and the sticky sweet of the afternoon rain still lingers on the breeze. (I should have my car washed more often.  It always rains right after I have my car washed!)  I stare straight into that golden orb, and I watch it sink - slowly, surely.  I lean against the balcony railing, secure.  Another day draws to a close.  God ties His flaming bow on it, and that midnight blue curtain falls velveteen across the sky - star strewn.

I wonder what tomorrow's light will bring?

Because these long summer days pass too quickly, and there are unknowns - so many unknowns on the horizon.  And the questions rise with my heart rate.

What will this new year be like?  Will I prove good enough?  Will I fit?  Will I be able to give these kids all they deserve?  Will I have enough to pour out?  Will there be enough time?  What do these new horizons hold?  Will I be ready?

I look at the loaves and fishes in my hands and I wonder: Can you - will you - do it again, Jesus?  Will you multiply my loaves and fishes life?  How many times does He have to prove faithful for me to stop asking?  I don't know.

So many questions.  Some I can't even put words to.  So few answers.  And as the last flecks of gold disappear, I lean - beloved disciple against my Savior.  And here is the Bread of Heaven, Manna to my lips.  I embrace the questions, eat the "What is it?" and find myself nourished.  And as I lean here, all the questions lead to one:  How will He not also, along with Jesus, graciously give us all things?  It is its own answer.

And I find that, when I choose to lean, the questions sustain.  

Five Minute Friday - Lonely

Setting the timer again this week.  This is a tough one... Lonely.

GO

I wouldn't have noticed it if my fingers hadn't slipped on the keyboard.  There is one letter difference between "lonely" and "lovely."  Which one is more natural for me to type?  Because what it all comes down to really is what I believe in this life.  Am I lonely?  Or am I lovely?

I know what I want to be... but feelings... they are deceptive.  I stand out on the stairwell every night and lean against the railing and I think about my life.  The stars.  I love the stars.  The storms rolling in.  The lightening on the horizon.  The breeze in my hair.  Alone.  Alone with God.

Can I see it for what it is?  Can I reach past the fear and find the truth?  Because I am afraid of spending my life lonely.  I'm not afraid of being alone, I don't think.  I'm just afraid of being lonely.  Of finding that I am not enough, that I am not worthy of love.  I'm afraid of not being lovely.  And I breathe it deep.  There is peace here.  Leaning secure on that railing.  Beauty making me and my worries shrink.  He calls me lovely.  He does!  And feelings.... Well, I know they can't be trusted.  But I trust Him.  I trust Him.  I trust Him.  I want to trust Him, really I do.  And so I breathe the prayer out in a whisper... Lord, I do believe.  Help my unbelief.  I believe you make me lovely.  Help me to believe.

STOP