Rocks In My Dryer

Wilderness

This post was originally published on February 22, 2006.

Three and a half years ago, I began having panic attacks.  And by panic attacks, I don't mean brief moments of anxiety, I mean hours of debilitating, paralyzing fear.  After a few hours it would subside, leaving me spent and overcome with despair for an hour or two, and the cycle would begin again.

The strange thing was that there was no good "reason" this was happening to me.  I had a happy marriage, healthy children, a lovely home--by everyone else's standards, my life was charmed.  I had always been the girl with her act together--others came to me when things got rocky.  How could I possibly be the one going off the edge?

But I was.  Dramatically and suddenly, I was falling off the edge.   Things became so dark I could no longer care for my children--my mother had to come and help us manage.  My husband was a rock, but even his unwavering support wasn't enough to rescue me.  I spent my days huddled in a ball of anguish, feeling the waves of despair and panic wash over me, again and again.  I wanted, with all my heart, to die, and I thought about it constantly.  And to anyone who would listen, I would say, "This shouldn't be happening to me.  There's no reason for me to feel like this," as though if I said it often enough, it would all go away.

You see, I knew, as a Christian, that hard times would come.  I was prepared for that.  But these were supposed to be hard times that happened outside of me.  When the trials came, I thought  I should be able to retreat into my heart, my mind, the "safe place" where God offered comfort.  But this time, my heart and my mind were the war zones.  To retreat into them was only to be lost further. 

In the middle of this, a light switched on for me during a conversation with my brother.  I shared all this with him, wondering aloud where God was, and why I was left to wallow in my own despair.  And my brother said something that stopped me in my tracks:  "Sis, He's the God of the wilderness too."

Yes.  The God of the wilderness.  The God who brought his people, the Israelites, out of slavery and allowed them to wander aimlessly for 40 years in the most barren land imagineable.  Not because He was cruel, or mistaken, or inept--but because there are lessons that can only be learned in the wilderness. 

I stayed up late that night reading about the Israelites and their dark places.  The story that jumped out at me most (you can read the whole passage here in Exodus 14) was the story of their recent escape from Egypt.  The Egyptians were hot on the heels of the Israelites--their doom seemed sure.  But Moses confidently reminded them: 

"Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."  (v. 13-14)

So, it turned out, I was experiencing God's presence, though not in the warm and fuzzy way I expected.  It was more like a helicopter rescue.  He was the guy on the ladder, hanging on desperately to me while the waters churned below.  If He let go, it meant sure death.  But if He would just hang on to me, then maybe, maybe I could make it out of this terrible place.

And He did hang on.  As I quit fighting my time in the wilderness and instead began to look around, He gradually led me to other side.  Through a variety of means including, yes, medication, He helped me climb out of that dark pit.  And now on the other side, I see so many reasons why I had to walk through that wilderness.  In my "charmed life", would I have ever seen the things I saw in that terrible place?  Would I have had to trust God for my very next breath, my very ability to survive?  Of couse not. 

The wilderness will come again, that is sure.  Maybe not in the form of depression and panic attacks, but it will come again.  We live in a fallen world where heartbreak and tragedy are unavoidable.  But the dark places don't seem so scary to me now, and the wilderness doesn't seem so wild.  I've been there.  I learned the lay of the land.  And I saw Who was there.

Corrie ten Boom

I wrote awhile ago about my love for quotes by Corrie ten Boom, and I thought I'd share a few with you:

Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our path, is the perfect preparation for a future only He can see.

Any concern too small to be turned into a prayer is too small to be made into a burden.

When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength. 

Faith sees the invisible, believes the unbelievable, and receives the impossible. 

Discernment is God's call to intercession, never to faultfinding.

Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. 

Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God. 

The first step on the way to victory is to recognize the enemy.

If God has called you, do not spend time looking over your shoulder to see who is following.

For more profound thoughts from Corrie, I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

Hope you all have a great weekend!

I Just Trust Him

This post was originally published on February 6, 2006.

My children love to ask me probing questions about God.

“Was God born?” they ask.

“No,” I explain. “God has always been there. He didn’t have a beginning.”

Or, “How did God make the world?”

“Well,” I explain, “He simply said He wanted it to be, and it was.”

“But how did He do that?” my questioner asks. And I’m reduced to the sentence that always concludes these precious times: “I don’t completely understand. But God tells us it is true in the Bible, and I just trust Him.”

And my little questioner, satisfied by this, rolls over and drifts easily off to sleep.

I just trust Him. How dependent I’ve become, I realize, on my bite-sized definitions of who He is. Words like "sovereign", or "glorious", or "omnipotent" appear in my prayers. Concepts like irresistible grace, sanctification, and election divide my theology into neat categories. I love to digest complicated issues of my faith and try to understand a little better the One I follow. My desire to share this with my children leads me to “boil it down” to their level of comprehension.  My four year old asks, “Why did God make sharks if they’re scary?” And my long, jumbled attempt at explaining a fallen world or all things working together for good finally lands me right back where it always does: “I just trust Him.”

This is the truth, I realize, of Mark 9:15: I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it. When all is said and done, I stand before God just as my little children do, entirely dependent on the simplest of answers I share with them. They come to me with questions, and I tell them “Because He said so.” I go to Him with questions, and He answers, “I Am Who I Am.”

Motherhood has taught me not only how little I know, but also how little I need to know. I may wrestle with the doctrine of free will vs. predestination as much as they wrestle with how God made pine cones, but ultimately, we rest in the mystery of His truth, if we are to rest at all.

Praying For Our Kids

There is so much I desire for my children--how could I ever mention it all in prayer?  So I took the following Scriptures and changed only the pronouns, turning Paul's words to the early churches into prayers for my own children.  I'd say this pretty well sums it up.

I do not cease to give thanks for __________, remembering [him/her] in my prayers, that [You], the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory may give _________ a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of [You], having the eyes of ________'s heart enlightened, that [he/she] may know what is the hope to which [You] have called ________, what are the riches of [Your] glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of [Your] power toward us who believe.

--adapted directly from Ephesians 1:15b-19 (ESV)

For this reason I bow my knees before [You] from whom every family in the heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of [Your] glory [You] may grant ________ to be strengthened with power through [Your] Spirit in ________'s inner being, so that Christ may dwell in [his/her]heart through faith--that _________, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that suprasses knowledge, that _________ may be filled with all the fullness of God.

--adapted directly from Ephesians 3:14-19 (ESV)

To this end we always pray for _________, that [You] may make ________ worthy of [Your] calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by [Your] power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in _______, and _______ in You, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.

--adapted directly from II Thessalonians 1:11-12 (ESV)

* * * * * * * * * *

Remember that tomorrow is Works-For-Me Wednesday.  I'll see you back here then!

Dad

I grew up in a big house atop a big hill.  My room had two large south-facing windows, perfect for watching a storm roll in.  My dad, an avid weather-watcher, never missed an opportunity to watch one of nature's fantastic stormy displays. 

So on every single stormy night of my growing-up years, the routine was the same: a deafening crack of thunder would jolt me out of a sound sleep, in a terror--but only for a moment.  Because I knew, before I even opened my eyes, that my dad would be standing at the foot of my four-poster bed, silhouetted in the lightning flashes, peering out my windows at the raging storm.  This conditioned me from a young age not to fear storms. I never had to doubt, even in the scariest moments, the presence of my father.

They say a child gains much of her perspective of her Heavenly Father from her earthly one.  I believe this.  For most of my life it has not been a stretch for me to trust a Father who stands guard over me, who is present even when the storms rage.

Thank you, Dad, for modeling such tender care for me.  Thank you for teaching me how to trust.  And thank you, thank you, for watching the storms.  Happy Father's Day.

(And while I'm at it, happy Father's Day to all the other great dads in my life--my uncle Jim and uncle Mike, my brother R, and of course, my sweet Hubs, the sweet daddy to my very blessed children.  You are all so special!)

Rest

There is nothing--no circumstance, no trouble, no testing--that can ever touch me until, first of all, it has gone past God and past Christ right through to me.  If it has come that far, it has come with a great purpose, which I may not understand at the moment.  But as I refuse to become panicky, as I lift up my eyes to Him and accept it as coming from the throne of God for some great purpose of blessing to my own heart, no sorrow will ever disturb me, no circumstance will cause me to fret, for I shall rest in the joy of what my Lord is--that is the rest of victory!

--Alan Redpath, former pastor of Moody Church

A Story Worth Reading

Do you know who Norma McCorvey is?  She's better known as Jane Roe, as in Roe V. Wade.  Her story is unbelievably powerful, and I'll just spoil it if I give you a summary.  Grab a cup of coffee and send the kids outside to play; if you'll spend a few minutes reading Norma's story, I think you'll be glad you did.

**Edited to add:  Respectful, dissenting viewpoints are always welcome, but please, let's keep it civil.

My Journey: The Short Version

Both Carol at She Lives and GiBee at Kisses of Sunshine asked me to participate in this little question-and-answer session, and I'm happy to oblige. 

1.  What is your life verse?   

Hebrews 12: 1-3   Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

2.  Give a bit of your testimony.

I was raised in a Godly home.  My dad was chairman of the deacons; my mom sang in the choir and taught Sunday school.  If the church doors were open, we were not only there, we were sitting down front.  I accepted Christ at age 7, and then "just to be safe" again at age 11 (even as a child I was riddled with doubts, constantly).  Every time a travelling pastor came to town and did one of his dramatic altar calls, I sat in the pew and wriggled uncomfortably.  Was I really "saved"?  Had I said the "magic words" when I accepted Christ?  These thoughts never rested.

I went away to college and the doubts overcame me.  By the end of my second year of college I couldn't bring myself to believe that any of it was true.  I fancied myself much too "intellectual" to believe that the faith I had been taught was real.  This is where the story gets long and complicated; I'll share it another time in more detail.  But the end result was that after two years of wrestling with God, He won.  He showed me that He is a God who doesn't dismiss our doubts--He answers them.  He became so utterly real to me that I simply couldn't doubt His existence.  His scriptures spoke so clearly to my heart that I knew they were true.  And the reality of Jesus' sacrifice melted my heart so that all I could do was simply...believe.

He is real, and He is faithful.

3.  Do you have a favorite preacher?

Yes--my brother!  He is a pastor in the same denomination we belong to.  Also, I love Francis Schaeffer and Charles Spurgeon.

4.  What's the best Bible study you've ever done?

John, in Bible Study Fellowship.

5.  What do you feel God's calling is on your life?

"To glorify God and to enjoy Him forever."  (From the Westminster Shorter Catechism)

I tag anyone who would like to play along.  Leave a note in my comments section to let us all know you're participating!

Just Tired

I tend to be pretty upbeat on this blog most of the time.  Lest that lead you to think I never get discouraged with the ins and outs of motherhood--and life--please think again.

Lately, I can totally relate to this picture.  Not that I walk around with billowing hair and gown all day--for more accuracy, you'd need to replace the silky gown with grubby sweats, the flowing hair with a short, not-washed-in-two-days 'do, scatter a few Legos and Hot Wheels on the floor and smear some grape jelly on the chair.  But it's a good representation of how I've been feeling on the inside recently.

I'm tired.  Just tired.  Tired of laundry, tired of dishes, tired of permission slips and grocery shopping and diaper changing and bed making and....just tired.  I'm in a rut.  A big, fat, funky RUT.

I love my life.  I really, really do.  There's nothing I would rather do than take care of this family that I adore.  But some moments, do you ever just feel the weight of the responsibilities facing you, and they seem to loom on and on and on into the future and you wonder, "will I still be driving carpool when I'm 80?"  And of course, you won't, but doesn't it sometimes just feel like it?  And then I say things like this, and I think of the mother sitting with her baby in a tent in Sudan and I wonder what on earth I ever think I could complain about.  I feel like an ungrateful wretch, and I feel guily about that, which discourages me more, and....you get the idea.

If there is one thing I've learned in the last few years, it's that God isn't just present at the high points and the low points, He's smack dab in the middle of the doldrums, too.  In the places, like this one, where life just kind of stretches out in a flat, when-will-this-ever change place that isn't exactly painful, but just tedious.

The verse I come back to time and time again--my "banner" verse for this motherhood journey--is Psalm 73:26--

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

I share that verse reluctantly, because I don't want to sound like life is just read-a-psalm-and-everything-will-be-rosy-tomorrow easy.  Chances are I'll wake up tomorrow with the same case of the blahs that I've had these last few weeks.  But you know what?  I'll get up and make breakfast--again.  I'll take the kids to school--again.  I'll drop off the dry cleaning and run to the store and load the dishwasher and fold underwear--again.  And eventually, somehow, the cloud will lift and I'll be back to the place of finding wonder in the things that have me pulling my hair out now.  I know this, because I've seen this rut many times before.  And I'll see it again. 

That's what that Psalm means to me.  When my heart is discontent and disinterested, He gently takes the reins for a while and steers me through the doldrums.  He puts my one foot in front of the other when I just want to curl up for a six-week nap.  And why am I telling you all this?  I'm not sure, really.  Maybe someone out there feels the same way too?  Let's just plug along, friend.

What I Did Monday Night

It's been such a busy week I'm just now sitting down to tell you about my wonderful Monday night.  My dear sister-in-law M and I drove two hours to see Casting Crowns and Nicole Nordeman in concert.  Yes, it was M, me, and five thousand screaming teenagers.  But it was an amazing evening. 

The night started with Nicole Nordeman's performance.  Her voice is so lovely, and her lyrics so profound, that I found myself holding my breath at times.  She writes things such as:

But what if you're wrong? What if there's more?
What if there's hope you've never dreamed of hoping for?
What if You jump? Just close your eyes.
What if the arms that catch you, catch you by suprise?
What if He's more than enough?
What if it's love?

And

And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season's change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter...spring

Amazing stuff. 

Then out came Casting Crowns (and the screams of all the teenagers) and I'm telling you, it was a hand-raisin', loud-singin', chest-thumpin' all-out worship service.  They, too, are a profound group of artists whose lyrics all really capture the struggle many people face in their own churches.  Such as

Does anybody hear her?
Can anybody see?
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me
Does anybody hear her?
Can anybody see?

And here is something fun--remember in the olden days how people used to flick their Bics at concerts and wave them in the air?  Well, these days they open up their cell phones and wave the glowing screen in the air.  (Seeing as how I haven't been to a concert since cell phones were INVENTED, I had no way of knowing this.  My much cooler sister-in-law tells me this is common knowledge, but I thought I'd tell you in case you're as endlessly uncool as I am).

Best of all was the time spent with M.  Lots of laughing, crying and girl-talking!  Sometimes I forget she's not my biological sister.  Wish you all could meet her--she has quite a story to tell of God's faithfulness.

In my favorite Nicole Nordeman song, Nicole celebrates God's faithfulness through all the stages of our lives.  She beautifully refers to Him as her "Pasture Maker".  I needed that image as I wrap up a busy week in which I spent all too little time resting in Him.  Here's hoping for some good "pasture time" for you and for me this weekend.  Happy Friday, friends!

The DaVinci Code

Unless you've been living under a rock, you've probably heard that the movie The DaVinci Code is being released in theaters very soon.  The book (which I read--and enjoyed--a couple of years ago), and now the movie, have created a hot-bed of controversy about who Jesus (and thus the Church) was and is.  As a result, it seems that nearly everything that could be said about this book has already been said, by people much smarter than I am. 

So why am I blogging about it today?  Mainly, to point you to this site--a reasoned and well-researched response to many of the issues the book raises.  I urge you to look through it as time allows.  Carol, at She Lives, also writes an excellent post on the subject.

I am neither a theologian nor an art historian.  I'm a regular old Bible-believing, book-loving, movie-watching Joe Schmoe.  But I have enough good sense not to obtain legal advice from a John Grisham novel or couple's therapy from Danielle Steele's latest bestseller.  And I know that Dan Brown is an author, not a theologian, and he is not my resource for knowledge about the Church, or the Bible, or Jesus. 

If you're reading this, and you aren't sure about who Jesus is or is not, please let me urge you to go the source.  Recognize a good fictional book as just that:  fiction.  Talk to someone who really, truly knows Him before you decide you can't.  Has the Church handled everything in history with perfect grace?  No.  But I know that you can draw a straight line with a crooked stick, and that the Church isn't perfect, but God is.

If you do know and love Christ, remember that we don't have to get hot under the collar when others misunderstand us.  In fact, we're told to expect it.  All we can do is speak the truth, in love.

I'd be interested to hear others' thoughts on the matter, though please, let's keep it civil.

Arise

Arise, arise,

And with His burial-linen dry thine eyes.

Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when grief

Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief.

George Herbert, Anglican priest, 1593-1633

The Cross of Christ

"It would be most unseemly to feign a cool detachment as we contemplate Christ's cross.  For willy-nilly we are involved.  Our sins put Him there.  So, far from offering us flattery, the cross undermines our self-righteousness.  We can stand before it only with a bowed head and a broken spirit.  And there we remian until the Lord Jesus speaks to our hearts His word of pardon and acceptance, and we, gripped by His love and brimful of thanksgiving, go out into the world to live our lives in His service."

--John Stott, The Cross of Christ

Have a blessed Easter weekend, friends.

To Walk

My one-year-old daughter Corrie has only been walking for a few weeks, and she still prefers crawling.  Walking is hard, and her little legs tire easily--I have to push her ever-so-gently to practice this new skill.

Yesterday as we left a store, I put her down on the sidewalk, took her hand, and coaxed her toward the car.  Her steps were awkward and slow, and she wasn't particularly happy with me--but we still made progress. 

After several yards we approached some steep stairs, and we saw them at the same time.  Before I could reach down to lift her, she cried out in fear at this scary obstacle ahead, dropping to her bottom right on the sidewalk.  I swooped her up into my arms and laughed as I kissed her head.  "Silly girl," I whispered.  "You know I'll carry you through the really hard parts.  But sometimes you just have to walk."

Like a lightning bolt, the thought hit me:  how many times has God whispered that same thought to me?  I cry out in fear at the obstacle in front of me, and like a frightened toddler I want to stop walking and SIT right where I am.  Just as I have to coax my daughter into strengthening her little legs, my Father has to push me to strengthen mine.  When I'd rather sit, He sometimes pushes.  But He never lets my legs give way--when the road gets too steep for me, He carries me and sets me down gently on the other side. 

Certainly my steps aren't pretty.  To Him I must look like a bumbling toddler much of the time.  But just as I could never disdain my daughter's efforts, He will never disdain mine.  He'll push, pull, coax and carry, but always we'll move forward.  Together.

That's where the metaphor ends.  The day will come when Corrie will let go of my hand and run ahead on her own.  But not me.  As I walk this journey of faith, my steps will hopefully strengthen, but He will never, NEVER let go of my hand.

Miscarriage Resources

I know this is a heart-rending subject, and this will be my last post about it for a while.  But so many of you shared wonderful responses to this post (I urge you to go back and read the comments, if you haven't already), prompting me to do some of my own research as well.  I'd like to put it all in one place here, and if you can think of any additional resources, please add them to the comments.

• Here are the lyrics for a beautiful song I'd never heard before--I urge you to download "Glory Baby" by Watermark.
• Another lovely song is "Visitor From Heaven" by Twila Paris--you can find the lyrics here.
• Artistic Memories by Alice produces several beautiful remembrances for parents who have lost a child.  While you're there, browse around at all her stuff--quite moving!
• I found this book after our miscarriage.  It's a tear-jerker, but it's so comforting too.
• Here's a journal to help in the grieving process so unique to a mother who has miscarried.
• There are several on-line support groups, such as PAM, Silent Grief, and one hosted by i-Village.
• Here is some beautiful jewelry to be a tangible reminder of such an intangible loss.  Also, you can find some more here.

Bascially, you confirmed in your comments what I already felt--it is so important, when ministering to a friend who has miscarried, to do whatever you can to help validate her loss.  As Mopsy said,

We received flowers and plants, cards and even had dinner brought to us for a few nights. These gestures helped our healing process and somehow validated that what we were going through was more than a bad medical day---it was the death of a dream, deep and real sorrow.

One last thought....

Word art is courtesy of Butternug Squash Designs.  Hope you all have a happy weekend!