Finding Freedom

**make sure to watch both videos in sequence.

We struggle under the weight.
The failed relationships.
The strained marriages.
The wayward children.
The painful life not quite left behind.
The job we hate.
The words we can’t take back.
The words we can’t forget.
The sorrow of letting go either through death or circumstances.
The forever tight finances.
The hounding health issues.
Sometimes, we shove all of it, all the burdens, into our briefcases or purses or backpacks and lug them around.
We become accustomed to their mass and bulk.
Even comfortable under the load.
We don’t see that after a while, they don’t just burden us, but everyone around us.
Failure.
Disappointment.
Unmet expectations.
Unfulfilled dreams.
Past mistakes haunt.
Past abuses cling.
Careless, painful words echo.
Fear hangs.
We weave our tortuous way along life’s path with burdens strapped to us like extra appendages.
Or tumors.
We hide.
We fight.
We run.
We labor.
Eventually, we will buckle under the weight.

Is there hope?
As Easter approaches, I’m reminded that yes, Hope exists and my belief is renewed.

Writing about Jesus, the prophet Isaiah brings Hope:
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;
it was our sorrows that weighed him down.
And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins! But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
We have left God’s paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.

Then a few chapters later, he wrote more about Jesus:

He has sent me to tell those who mourn    
that the time of the Lord’s favor has come,
and with it, the day of God’s anger against their enemies.
To all who mourn in Israel,  
he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning,    
festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks    
that the Lord has planted for his own glory.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins,    
repairing cities destroyed long ago. They will revive them,    
though they have been deserted for many generations.

We do not have to live, breathe and move with our burdens defining us and disfiguring us. 
There is Hope.

Washing the Windows

A few weeks ago, I got rid of my 22-year-old lace curtains and purchased new (hopefully a bit more modern) ones. Because of the style change, my once-hidden windows were now fully exposed and the dirt was thick. So, I did it. I washed the windows*. Now, dear reader, you need to understand that my ancient home boasts 23 windows, 21 of which have storms–heavy, antique storms. It proved to be a Big Deal and my dear husband, although a trooper, was a little annoyed at the level of his involvement (which was both necessary and vital because I’m not that strong or handy). When we finished, it felt like a huge accomplishment and my nice, clean view of the outside world thrilled me. Literally, the house felt lighter.

I needed new curtains. I wanted new curtains. And my new curtains look great. However, my incredibly dirty windows overshadowed my new curtains. Until I cleaned the underlying grime on my windows, the appearance of the curtains didn’t matter much. But here’s the thing, washing the windows in my old house was an arduous task (which is why I hadn’t done it in so long). It required help from my husband. It required time and strength and elbow grease and ladders and tools and that was just the prep work. For the actual washing of the windows, it required cleanser and newspapers.** Washing my dirty windows wasn’t a quick or easy job and I can’t just do it once and never again. As long as I live in this house, the windows will get dirty and I’ll have to periodically repeat the process.

As I stood on the ladder, sweating and scrubbing, trying not to fall and honestly, cursing under my breath, I couldn’t help but think of the window-washing that our lives need. We can begin new habits. We can change behaviors, but until there is healing of our hearts, the change is only superficial. Until we do the hard work of removing the layers–prying away the storms– and scrubbing each clean, we won’t see the outside world clearly. We’ll be looking through layers of our dirt. The filth might be caused by childhood trauma, rebellious mistakes, or profound loss. But no matter the cause, if we’ve lived without processing and healing, the dirt builds up and our perspective clouds. It’s difficult to see people and situations truthfully or objectively because we view everything through our messy filter. We take things personally. We hold grudges. We envy others. We make excuses for our mistakes instead of owning them. We may think others are out to get us. Whatever dirt cakes our view makes others look yucky too. And it’s no way to live and it’s not fair to the people in our lives.

Grief is a hard road to healing. Counseling to overcome childhood trauma is a hard road to healing. Confronting family members and dealing with crap is a hard road to healing. Honestly evaluating your own choices and the motives behind them is difficult and often digs up even more stuff, and is a hard road to healing. Getting out of debt and dealing with financial mistakes and burdens is painful and is a hard road to healing. But if we want to be mature, healthy, functioning people, we have to clean up the crap and stop covering up the dirt and living with 22-year-old curtains.

I don’t know what your view is today.

Maybe you’re realizing just how dingy the windows are and you’re sick of it. Seek help. Ask someone you trust (or at least respect) where to begin.

Maybe you’re in the middle of a hard road to healing. If you are, you can do it–truly, you can do this–your view will not always be so cloudy. You will see the sun shining brighter.

Maybe you’ve walked that hard road and are experiencing a fuller, healthier life. If that’s the case, travel alongside someone struggling today.Tell them your story. Be a voice of encouragement and hope for them.

No matter where you find yourself this morning, I pray for God’s strength, healing and hope for your heart.

*side-note: it started raining within 24 hours and didn’t quit for several days. Of course.

**my Mom-in-law’s cleaning tip from eons ago: use newspapers instead of paper towels or rags–it’s cheaper & won’t leave any lint or residue.

When the washing machine breaks…

The washer broke yesterday. Daryl, the repairman, asked if it sounded like a jet engine when it was spinning. Yes, Brad answered. It’s the bearings, he replied.

I demanded much from that washer and it delivered. Over its lifetime, I estimate it washed almost 9,000 loads. If the old washer could talk, it would tell tales of late-night loads of barf-filled sheets and early morning spins of the basketball uniform worn the night before and needed immediately. Four kids and two adults (and lots of college kids) used it for jersey’s, Pizza Ranch uniforms, sweaty running gear, dusty work clothes, frosting-filled aprons, towels, and the occasional delicate.

It had a good run; then it died.*

And the washer dying? Almost sent me over the edge–into a full melt-down mode. In the middle of telling myself to get a grip and stop freaking out over the washer dying, I stepped back and thought of our lives the last few weeks.

In the past 16 days…
We welcomed one child back home and said goodbye to another.
We celebrated an engagement, two new jobs and a birthday.
We ate meals, worked our jobs, cleaned our house, hosted guests and made two unplanned trips.
We bought a wedding dress.
We mourned with a broken-hearted sweetie.
And the washer broke.

It was the dead washer that broke this camel’s back.

My friend sent me an Andrew Peterson song earlier this week called Be Kind to Yourself. He wrote it for his daughter, but it speaks to me in the middle of my mess. Many of us are good at being kind to others, but being kind to ourselves can be difficult. Every fault, every frustration, every past mistake, every instance of shame & regret, every dumb word spoken comes rushing back in moments of frailty and we mercilessly beat ourselves up. I’m so frail, people. I suspect, no matter the tough mask you wear or the high walls you build, you’re frail too. And instead of being kind to ourselves in our frailty and humanity, we scold ourselves and try to muscle our way through it. If you’re like me, something stupid like the washer breaking may make you doubt God’s love. It’s ridiculous, and yet I believe we all do it. We doubt that the Creator of the Universe could actually love us. I regularly doubt it. I’m not proud of that fact, but it’s true. Doubt is why I write so many “It’s the Little Things” posts; the posts are my exercise in practicing belief. I believe learning to be kind to ourselves is also an exercise in practicing belief.

Yes, I need to get over myself and look at the big picture. Yes, I need to rejoice and give thanks for the countless blessings given to us. Yes, I need to remember and believe and practice faith. And yes, in all of that, I can be kind to myself and not beat myself up for feeling stretched thin.

I don’t know what your broken washer is today. I don’t know what *thing* will feel like too much. I don’t know what may cause a meltdown in your heart today. I guess I just ask you to join me in trying to remember God’s love and be kind to yourself in the middle of the good, the bad and the ugly.

 

*(side note–perhaps that should be on my tombstone: “She had a good run; then she died.”)

 

It’s the little things.

it’s waking up to a world covered in a million white sparkles
it’s time spent with my sweet mom
it’s phone calls with my sisters
it’s the countless games of cards played around the table
it’s praying as each loved one came and left again
it’s finding meaning in the mundane
it’s knowing growth will come
it’s the words of hope and comfort that sooth the weary soul
it’s hope that life isn’t lived in vain
it’s experiencing peace and rest amid a strife-filled world
it’s conversations so long and meaningful that your coffee gets cold
it’s help with the dishes
it’s the joy of hearing familiar voices after long absences
it’s laughing until you cry
it’s sharing struggles and rejoicing in victories
it’s finding a draft you meant to post two weeks ago
it’s everyday reminders that we’re not alone…
and there is a God…
and He does love us…
it’s grace in the little things and as well as the big.

Diffused Light

In 12 hours I’ll be back home again…not the ideal thoughts on the Monday morning after a break, but it gave me the motivation I needed to get up and get going. I like my job. I really do. But each morning I wake up dreading the day for whatever reason. No, it’s not “whatever reason” it’s that when you struggle with chronic depression, mornings are particularly hard. The day ahead feels daunting. I’ve found over the years that once I’m going, it’s fine; it’s the initial thoughts that need to be overcome. Anyway, this morning I got up, got dressed, read my devotions, and chose to put on a smile. I don’t mean a poser-fake sort of smile, I mean the this-is-your-life-you-are-truly-blessed-even-if-you-don’t-feel-it sort of smile. Every morning I have to remind myself that how I live this life and view this day is a choice–depression or not.

Anyway, I walked out my door and I found a stunning white fur-covered world. Fog caused frost to settle all over the trees, decks,power lines, the antenna on the car and each leaf and twig and blade of grass. Anything and everything that the fog touched, frosted. I was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful. An otherwise dismal, cloudy day transformed to a magical world. Once again, I thought of the beauty in the midst of the dismal. Beauty in pain. Beauty in suffering. Beauty in confusion. Beauty in the fog.

The roads were fine, but the fog hung thick and allowed only limited vision. As I drove through the cloud tunnel, the monochromatic world around me, I saw a small break of diffused light. It wasn’t bright yellow. No round orb was visible. But a brighter light glowed and for that moment, it allowed me to see a little further down the road. Instead of the 100 feet in front of me, I could see a bit more asphalt.

Once again, I was reminded how much depression is like fog. The sun isn’t blocked out completely, but vision is impaired. I often deride myself for struggling to get out of bed in the morning, but driving through the ground-level clouds, I thought how natural it is in the diminished vision to slow down, be careful, and just concentrate on what’s immediately in front of you. As soon as I look beyond the day (or sometimes the hour) I’m overwhelmed because all I see is hazy white. My vision is impaired. But if I simply look at the road in front of me, trusting that the pavement will lead me, I’m ok. Alert. Possibly on edge, but ok.

I have no idea what your fog or struggle is today. It may be finances, a crappy marriage, hurting kids or chronic illness. I have no idea. But I pray that, whatever your situation, you will look to God and take heart. The Light of Christ will never leave you even if His light and presence are diffused by struggle. And believe it or not, there is intense and immense beauty right in the middle of (and sometimes because of) the fog.

Seek

 

Don’t get lost in despair; believe in God, and keep on believing in Me. My Father’s home is designed to accommodate all of you. If there were not room for everyone, I would have told you that. I am going to make arrangements for your arrival. I will be there to greet you personally and welcome you home, where we will be together. ~Jesus

I am the vine, and you are the branches. If you abide in Me and I in you, you will bear great fruit. Without Me, you will accomplish nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me, he is like a branch that is tossed out and shrivels up and is later gathered to be tossed into the fire to burn. If you abide in Me and My voice abides in you, anything you ask will come to pass for you. Your abundant growth and your faithfulness as My followers will bring glory to the Father. ~Jesus

So many questions whirl around in my head regarding the future that I easily “get lost in despair”. I wonder about my own direction and purpose as I view my emptying nest. I wonder about my kids’ futures as they try to determine their own paths. I  can quickly feel overwhelmed and small. Then, I’m drawn back to the basics. Called gently by my loving God to the simplicity and power of these two actions: to seek God and seek good. As we seek God and seek good, He draws us to Himself; it’s the essence of abiding in His love.

Seek God…seek good…

I have no idea what this year will bring. I have no idea what the road ahead holds. But, no matter what my home or bank account or job looks like and no matter where my kids are, I know as I seek God and seek good I’ll be exactly where He wants me to be.

Seek God…

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart~Jeremiah

Seek God and live. ~Amos

Your heavenly Father already knows all your needs.Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. “So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” ~Jesus

Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.~Jesus

Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. ~Jesus

Seek good…

Seek good and not evil, so you can live. ~Amos

 Learn to do good;
    commit yourselves to seeking justice.
 Make right for the world’s most vulnerable
the oppressed, the orphaned, the widow.
Come on now, let’s walk and talk;
let’s work this out. ~Isaiah

The Lord told you what is good,
    and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
    and to walk humbly with your God. ~Micah

Love your neighbor like you love yourself. ~Jesus

 

 

 

Walls

Thick cinderblock 521walls lined each narrow, meandering street. Topped with barbed wire and broken glass they shouted a clear message of stay out. Iron bars covered every window and door. Heavy gates, either of solid wood or black metal, completed each mini fortress. Walking out of our simple guest house into the courtyard each morning, hearing the noises of a city waking up, yet only seeing cement walls and metal gates saddened me. A long history of government corruption, instability, and violence led to the walled, barred and gated atmosphere in Nicaragua.

It felt disconcerting to be on either side of the wall. When we were safe inside the fortresses, there was peace accompanied by a sense of loss. Lush trees, vibrant flowers, beautiful birds, and even more beautiful people lived in abundance on the other side, yet couldn’t be seen from within. When on the outside, we saw the immense beauty, but we also lived with a heightened sense of our surroundings, cognizant of the real dangers we faced on the street. Constant tension existed between experiencing relative safety and beholding abundant beauty.

90 down the mt

But if we never ventured outside the walls of Quinta Emily or Hotel Rosario, we would have missed meeting Moeses and Ricardo and we would never have seen the beauty of Mombachito or Somoto or Laguna de Apoyo. We may have experienced comfort and safety but at what cost? We went to Nicaragua to experience Nicaragua. We went to see the natural beauty, to experience a different culture, to practice another language, and to observe what God is doing through His people in other places. We didn’t go to stay safe behind walls in a sanitzed  environment.

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies is “There’s a wall there.” (Kronk speaking of Eyzma’s reluctance to share emotionally in Emperor’s New Groove) It’s a funny part of the movie because it’s true. We’ve all built walls in our lives.

In an attempt at self-preservation and protection, we build our own emotional fortresses. Some walls we erect to keep our inner life hidden, our emotions in check and our faults and secrets safely vaulted. Others we construct clearly to keep danger at bay. Block by block, we wall ourselves in, trying to insulate our lives from pain, hurt, disappointment and failure. We hide behind our walls of bitterness, envy, anger, shame, and judgment both confused and fearful of the reality on the other side. Regardless of why we build our walls or what they’re comprised of, the result is the same: we hold others at bay and hide. We don’t fully engage in the beauty on the other side of our walls and we don’t allow anyone to see our true beauty. Living inside our fortress makes it difficult to accept or give love, encouragement, and grace. We each have a unique beauty to offer this world and when we hunker down, drawing our knees up to our chest and keeping our head down, no one sees or benefits from what we could offer.

For we are the product of His hand, heaven’s poetry etched on lives, created in the Anointed, Jesus, to accomplish the good works God arranged long ago. ~Paul to the Ephesians

When we stay hidden behind our walls, either paralyzed by fear or too comfortable with apathy, it’s impossible to give the unique gifts we possess. Living in solitary worlds behind walls deprives everyone of the beauty that is you and prohibits you from fully experiencing what others can offer.

Personally, I know I don’t always realize when I’ve built walls until they’re so high I can’t see over. Brick by brick, I build them…shame, doubt, anger, jealousy, discontententment and pride mortered together with fear. Tearing down the fortress is hard. It wasn’t built in a day, it won’t come down in a day. And sometimes, I don’t want to pull them down. I’m used to these walls and there’s a perverted comfort living within them. But it’s a false sense of security that doesn’t bring actual peace; it only adds to loneliness and isolation. It’s a risk to tear down the wall. It’s a risk to venture beyond the gates. It’s a risk to love, to share, to give and recieve grace. But in the risk, also comes a freedom and a deep sense of living the way we were created to live: in mutually beneficial community.

A friend introduced me to this song not long ago and I love it. Even though the metaphor is light and darkness, the message is the same: we weren’t created to hide.

With years of keeping secrets safe
Wondering if I could change
‘Cause when you’re hiding all alone
Your heart can turn into a stone
And that’s not the way I want to go

So I walk out of the darkness and into the light
From fear of shame into the hope of life
Mercy called my name and made a way to fly
Out of the darkness and into the light

Read more: Ellie Holcomb – Marvelous Light Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Hand-me-downs and leftovers

I’m all about hand-me-downs and leftovers. The youngest of three girls, I grew up in my sister’s clothes and, in general, loved it. Even today, I still benefit from my generous (and incredibly stylish) sister. And leftovers? They’re my friend. Chicken chili or lasagna the next day? Even better than the first time!

But hand-me-downs or leftovers in a relationship? No, thank you. No one wants to feel like they’re getting leftover time, money, affection or attention. No child wants to feel like they come second to work or church or siblings. No friend wants someone who only calls when it’s a crisis or they need something. No spouse wants to feel the leftover energy or affection or love from their significant other. Hand-me-downs and leftovers leave us feeling like we don’t deserve any better. We don’t just feel loved less, we feel unloved, un-cared for and ultimately rejected.

To recap…

hand-me-downs from your stylish sister that save you money–good; hand-me-downs of affection–bad.

leftover food–good; leftover time, energy or love–bad.

Apply that to a spiritual relationship and it magnifies the feelings of worthlessness. If you think you get God’s leftovers or His crumbs, then you constantly feel like the kid with dirty shoes who can come in but needs to wipe their feet and stand in the corner. No warm welcome or seat at the grown-up table for you. No sir. Be quiet and wait until someone more important offers you what’s left. Be happy with hand-me-downs and leftovers from God’s children who are well-behaved, more faithful and frankly, just better than you.

Yeah. That’s how I’ve felt lately. I’m not gonna lie (and believe me, I wish I could), September was a crappy month. Many times I wished someone would wake me up when it was over– just like the Green Day song. Saying goodbye to kids (real, grown-up goodbyes), grieving both old and new losses, coming to terms with past hurts, dealing with physical illness, and enduring depressing thoughts left me cold, sad and tired. To be brutally honest, the cumulative effect of all this gunk, is thinking, feeling and believing that all I get or deserve from God is hand-me-downs and leftovers. Why should I get anything else?

But here’s just one of the many problems with thinking and living this way: if you live thinking you’re impoverished, you believe you have nothing to offer. You either believe what you could offer isn’t good enough or you believe that you don’t have enough resources. And then, perhaps, you get some weird self-pitying pride mixed in there and the whole thing turns into an ugly mess of self-accusations and self-defamation and a faulty, dangerous view of God and self. Brutal.

So how do I (we, if you can identify with anything I’ve written) interrupt the cycle? One way to start is by remembering and believing Truth.

If we believe we’re children of God, then here’s the Truth:

We’re not given hand-me-down rags; we’re dressed in the King’s own robes. 

We’re not invited to a rickety table of leftovers; we’re invited to a feast.

Because of God’s love and Jesus sacrificial gift of his own life, we’re invited to share in His bounty and sit at his table.

“Is anyone thirsty?
    Come and drink—
    even if you have no money!
Come, take your choice of wine or milk—
    it’s all free!
Why spend your money on food that does not give you strength?
    Why pay for food that does you no good?
Listen to me, and you will eat what is good.
    You will enjoy the finest food.

“Come to me with your ears wide open.
    Listen, and you will find life.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you.
    I will give you all the unfailing love I promised to David…”

Seek the Lord while you can find him.
    Call on him now while he is near. ~Isaiah 55 1-6

I know when you’re struggling it’s difficult to see Truth, let alone believe it, but I pray these words bring hope and encouragement to your mind and heart today, friend.

Loved.

You are loved.

Do you know that?

Do you believe it?

You are loved.

All summer, grief wraps itself around my heart and mind like a shroud, both sheltering and smothering at the same time.

I miss my dad. My dear uncle passed away; he and dad were so similar it’s like saying goodbye again.  People’s choices and actions directly effected the life of our family in profound ways and I grieve the the way things used to be. I said goodbye to my young charge and miss him. Both my older two children moved out–like, really moved out. I miss them. I grieve my kids not being little anymore. I miss their sweet voices and tiny hands in mine. I miss being young myself–gracefully getting older proves challenging. I grieve lost opportunities and abandoned dreams. I miss time to nurture friendships, old and new. 

Life includes loss. I get that. This season of my life feels like a season of loss and letting go. It’s not all bad and I see the hope and blessings both now and ahead. But what gets me through today and this season is not just a pie-in-the-sky hope of brighter days to come or the fact that everyone goes through it. No. What makes the grief and loss ok is the fact that I’m loved. Loved by family and friends–thank God. But even more than that, I’m loved by the Creator of the Universe. The God who governs the stars and moon and sun loves me. The God who formed the mountains and rivers and canyons loves me. He loves me and He loves you. Did you catch that? He loves you.

He welcomes and invites us to accept His love. And I don’t mean He loves us in a —ok, you can come in, but wipe your feet and stand quietly in the corner–sort of love. No, He doesn’t just put up with us. Many of us (for whatever reason) see God as a stern, un-approving father who wants to make us behave and all we do is disappoint him again and again. But I know that God’s love is an all-encompassing, selfless, doting parent, devoted sort of love.

He loves you…

Need some Truth to remind you? Here you go…

He loves us because He is love.  (1 John 4)
God loves us with an everlasting love. (Jeremiah 31:3)
God loves us so much He sent His son to rescue us. (John 3)
And God loves us just the way we are. He doesn’t wait for us to change or get our crap together. He loves us in the middle of the garbage.  (Romans 5)
And because He loves me like that, I can grieve–both big and small things–with hope. (Lamentations 3)

Whatever you face today, I hope you know the Truth: you are loved.

Peace

There’s a German word that one of my Psych professors used that I’ve never forgotten: behaglichkeit. Traditionally it’s defined as “ease and comfort” or “coziness”, but she pointed out that it’s deeper than that. It’s like when a baby is sleeping so soundly–so peacefully, that you can lift it’s limbs and transport it and the baby never stirs…a deep, sound, complete rest. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? Honestly, everything about my life feels like an ongoing search for behaglichkeit. I’m tired. I want peace. I long for rest, for that internal soul-rest. You too? We search for rest in religion, in relationships, in food, in money, in desires, in adventures, in escapes, in controlling and managing every aspect of our lives, in (fill in the blank). We’re looking for peace, for the elusive soul-rest. As those of you who claim Christ and have read the Bible know, the Word is full of verses on peace and rest for weary souls:

“You will Keep in perfect he whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.” Isaiah 26

“Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” John 14

“These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” John 16

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Philippians

“But the Lord watches over those who fear him, those who rely on his unfailing love.”  Psalm 33

“Be still, and know that I am God! I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world.” Psalm 46

“Give your burdens to the Lord, and he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall.” Psalm 55

“Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” Matthew 11

Sometimes these comfort me but I’m increasingly coming to understand that peace and rest are found in sitting in the presence of Jesus, not in doing more or reading more or anything more. Simply being with Jesus. Probably at least 15 years ago I spoke to a group of women about being instead of doing. I could see the blank looks on many of their faces and I remember thinking perhaps I was wrong–maybe Martha had it right and Mary was crazy (read their story here). But as my life continues forward, I see it even more clearly: my call as a Christ-follower is to cease striving and live. Stop trying to do and fix and manage and control my own (and other’s)  life and emotions and trust in the Creator of the Universe.
Trust Him because He’s proved Himself trustworthy.
In those horrendous situations that bring pain and anxiety–He is at work.
Even if you don’t see it.
In those long-lasting, day-in day-out monotonous, recurring struggles, He is at work.
In those past pains that undergird our way of thinking and feeling and acting, He is at work.
In those relationships that seem hopeless, He is at work.
In the pain of depression and anxiety, He is at work.
In the debilitating illnesses, He is at work.
In the questions and doubts and fears, He is at work.

He is at work so we can be at rest.

His ways aren’t my ways, His thoughts aren’t my thoughts but I believe He’s good and faithful and true and I can trust Him even though I rarely understand.

Then the peace comes… a moment of behaglichkiet