My Calling is Just Beyond......the Devastation

The last several weeks I've been leading a good Bible study. Not by happenstance it's exactly what I needed in this season of my life and journey. It's been loaded with personal application and tons of things just jumping up before my very eyes.

One week in particular has been stuck in my brain for 3 weeks. I keep mulling it over and over. The study is Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed; a Lifeway study featuring Priscilla Shirer, Beth Moore and Kay Arthur. In the second video session by Beth Moore she talked about a "point of devastation" we encounter not once but more likely many times on this life journey. She asked something along the lines of "what do we do when God doesn't behave? When he doesn't act like we think he should?"

Now, before you go thinking that statement is heretical, the question is really "what do we do when God doesn't behave as we think he should?" (You'd have to watch the entire video in context) Obviously God doesn't mis-behave. He does, however, behave differently than we think he should or than we'd like. And nothing upsets our faith more than when God acts differently than we think he should or how we'd like. At that point we're devastated. What do we do?

This is EXACTLY where I am. God has done something completely out of my plan for my life, something I didn't desire and something I don't like. Not one bit. By the way, this isn't the first time. I can promise you I never desired or asked for a chronic illness...never, ever. Certainly not twice in one lifetime. Yet here it is. What am I going to do with that?

She went on to say that our calling is just beyond that point of devastation and we can't fully realize that calling until we move past the devastation. The story used in the video portion I am referring to comes from 2 Samuel 6 where David was attempting to bring the Ark of God back to Jerusalem and because of a failure to do it as prescribed, Uzzah was struck down and died. David was angry. David was afraid. Man, can I relate to that!

I conclude from this that it's okay to be confused by events that happen to us, it's okay to be angry and even okay to be afraid. BUT WE CANNOT STAY THERE. Obviously we're not going to sail through these events and never feel emotion. After all, we are human and we don't know how it's all going to come together. There is no sense in denying it otherwise we'll become bitter and the infestation will rob us of our joy for the rest of our lives. And just as horrible, we will be fake. I despise phoniness. Yet I've realized some of that in my life prior to and during this latest trial. I take comfort in the fact that I am shuddering at the thought of missing out on doing great things for God because I can't get over it. I actually wrote out the following questions in an effort to process...what if I don't believe God is who he says he is? What if I don't believe he has something great for me? What if I don't get past the point of devastation? What will my life miss? Pretty deep stuff for me to ponder, actually.

And there it is. I am now trying to figure out what I need to do to get past the devastation of what is happening to me so that I can take my rightful place in the calling that lies just beyond. And so do you.

Learning to Ask the Right Questions

It's amazing the lessons coming at me from a thousand different directions. I'll be honest, I've not embraced or even wanted some of them. At times I feel like I'm in a vice grip that just keeps getting tighter. Some of the "stuff" pouring out of me is a delight...BUT...much of it is junk I wish weren't there, didn't know was there and the task before me is figure out what to do with all that.

Last week we spent 3 days with some of our small group leaders in training at a retreat. It's one of my favorite things every year.

One of the sessions touched on pain and suffering. Obviously it was in the context of how that relates to small group living but nevertheless, the lessons abounded for me personally as well. Two of the passages referenced were:

Romans 5:3-4 (NIV) "Not only so, but also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."

and

1 Peter 5:10 (NIV) "And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast."

So, it's clear from these passages that suffering is not happenstance. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think it was before I was reminded of these verses but sometimes in the midst of really difficult times I simply forget. I think we all do.

But what jumped out at me the most from this is that I need to learn to ask the right questions. For example, instead of asking God "why me" or "why now" I should be asking "what do you have for me during this season"?

In the midst of all this, I was waiting for the results of my latest tests which I was convinced would be normal because I had told God I couldn't take anything else. When we returned from our retreat there was a letter from my doctor with a new batch of bad news. I was flabbergasted. I bawled my eyes out. Actually I wept. I found myself overcome with the ongoing fear of dying and a newly found fear of living. That was on Saturday.

On Monday I was texting with a friend and while it may seem odd that we have these types of conversations via text, it's really quite normal for us. We also talk plenty and have face to face time so it's not as odd as it may seem. I texted her..."I seriously have no fight left." She responded, "Maybe that is where He wants you so He can fight."

Perhaps she's right. In any case, it gives me a new opportunity to think through the questions before I ask. Maybe this time I'll verbalize the right ones.

A Child's Wisdom

About 10 days ago I sat on a porch swing with 2 young friends. One is 7 and I'll refer to her as "S"; the other is 10 and I'll refer to her as "Z". It was a clear, beautiful mountain evening and we had been swinging for 2 or 3 minutes when "Z" looked over and said:

"Miss Julie, we only need to be afraid of bears here, right?"

Not wanting them to be freaked out or unreasonable I replied, "well, not afraid as much as aware they could be around. We also need to be smart about it."

She seemed to accept that answer when "S" said, "And mountain lions. We need to be afraid of them too. They jump on you and bite the back of your neck."

Z said, "Well, if a mountain lion bites my neck I'm going to bite his ear!"

S: "You can't bite his ear because you'll be dead."

Z: "Well, dying isn't so bad. It's just your body that dies. My spirit is going to heaven because I know Jesus. Plus, I'll come back with a body to rule with Jesus when He comes back."

I sat there dumbfounded and eeked out a very quiet, "You're right, Z, you're absolutely right." I put my arm around her shoulder, hugged her close to me and kissed the top of her head.

The truth is, I have been fairly afraid of death these past few months. Not so much the being dead part but rather the dying part. I know I'm ready spiritually for the afterlife but I'm just not ready to leave Steve yet...or my family...or my friends. I just don't feel like I'm done yet.

I actually had to seek some counsel about this a few months ago because this particular fear is contradictory to my faith. I was assured that this is normal although the person who counseled me said most of the time he has that conversation with someone in their 70's or 80's. He further said it's one of those things that really catapults a person's spiritual growth and until we come to terms with it, we aren't ready to fully and completely live. That provided some comfort.

But here was this 10-year-old who gets it. She has no fear. As I told her mom about this conversation she got tears in her eyes. It isn't the first time she's heard that. Apparently the two of them have had similar conversations. "Z" says things like, "I'm ready to go, mom." I can't even imagine! I would cry too.

Simply amazing is the only way I can describe this child's faith and wisdom. I believe this is why the Apostle Paul told Timothy in 1 Timothy 4:12 (ESV) to "let no one despise you for your youth."

So, as I continue to work my way through this fear and come to terms with my mortality, this conversation rings over and over in my brain. No doubt I'll arrive, hopefully with as much grit and tenacity as my young friend.

Denial From Out of the Blue

Last week as we drove home from a few days at a mountain retreat something hit me from clear out of the blue.

My mind started to wander in this direction after I listened to the voice mails that had accumulated while I was gloriously out of cell service. One of them was from a woman at the doctor's office. We'd been playing phone tag and while I told her I'd be out for a few days, she called anyway. Her purpose was to schedule me for a particular treatment. Actually an undetermined series of treatments. She also said she had the "approximate cost share" I would have to pay.

Because it was the very news I had been dreading, I decided I would wait and call her back the next day. I just wasn't ready. From the day I sat in the office and he told me about the treatment I cried. The nurse was so compassionate but nothing she said would make it better. I appreciated the effort though.

But aside from the cost (which I didn't know the exact details of that day), why was I so opposed to this particular treatment? I stared out the window for miles and asked myself that very question over and over. Why? Like a ton of bricks the answer fell in my lap. I turned to Steve and said, "you want to know something?" Before he even answered I said, "Cost is only part of the reason I am opposed to what Dr. A wants to do." He asked, "what's the other part?"

"I don't want to do it because it's what sick people do," I replied on the verge of tears. He briefly looked over and said, "well, you ARE sick." I stared at him as if he'd thrown ice cold water in my face. No, I am not, I thought. But that's not true. I am. Through a stream of tears I said, "I'm not ready to concede that yet. I don't want to be."

The ever practical man sitting in the driver's seat stated, "It really doesn't matter what you WANT to believe. You ARE sick."

And there it is. Denial in its most ubiquitous form. I am thrown way off guard with this realization. I don't know what to do with it yet.

Prone to Wander

I think I've told Steve at least 20 times the past couple months that we need to move. I don't particularly care if we move to a different house, a different city or different state. Well, I do have my preferences as to cities and states but the point is that the entire thing just doesn't make sense. This bothers me.

I actually love my house--the location, the layout, the size...BUT...I just want to run away. Granted, I've always been a bit of a wanderer. I love to go places I've never been and actually have a perceived need to do so. My sister has tried to convince me it's not a need but to me, it is. My dad is one of the few people who understood this about me. One time as he was dropping me off at the airport, he said "Go and see but don't forget to come home. My girl just can't stay put, can she?" No, I really can't. So, as you might imagine, this whole new case of itchy feet has caused me to miss my dad terribly.

Last week as I mentioned this to Steve for the bazillionth time, I asked him "why do you think it is I have this need to move?"

"Because you don't feel well," he replied.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Going places is exciting for you and it changes your perspective. You think it will make things better," he said.

I thought about it for a few minutes and I came to the conclusion he's right. Although my thinking is incorrect, it's plausible that for a few days, weeks or months a new location will help me forget about it.

I don't want to be sick anymore. I don't want to go to another doctor, have another test, pay another medical bill. I don't want to melt down again. I want it to go away. And until it does, I would really rather not even leave the house. I am safe and comfortable here. I am accepted here. I am loved--even when I've fallen apart at the seams and sit in a puddle of tears.

I want to be normal, whatever that means. I've watched people a lot lately and wondered to myself, "what's it like to do (fill in the blank) without forethought or struggle?" "What if you could just run here or there without worrying about the side effects?" "Why do I have to be such a freak?"

The emotional & mental toll that comes with a chronic illness is just as painful as the physical pain....it's just that no one sees it, few understand it, and the agitation is always barely hidden under the surface.

For me it comes out in the need to wander, to run away and while it seems contradictory, to hole up in the house and never leave again. But even if I do--whether for a minute or a year, it will be waiting when I return. There is no escape. I must deal with it, regardless of whether I like it or want it.

This is the dichotomy of my life these days.

Completely, Utterly, Gloriously Broken

I've been thinking a lot about brokenness lately. The latest incident that made me come to what I think is new insight happened Saturday. I broke a couple of my toes...two of them on my left foot. I thought it was 3 but alas, the third one is fine. A friend, who is a nurse, confirmed for me yesterday they are indeed broken. I had no intention of going to the doctor for it but since he knows his stuff, why not?

This physical brokenness isn't really the focus of my musings but it helped me pull some things together. I actually said to Steve, "oh for crying out loud, when am I going to get a break anyway?" I'm sure you can anticipate his answer. "Well, you kind of did get a break, literally." I so did not think it was funny then and I still don't.

What made me first think about brokenness happened earlier this year when someone completely broke my heart. At the time I didn't focus on it too much because physically I just wasn't able. I had to focus on getting better. But since I've started a treatment plan and am feeling more normal, I began to want answers and justification for her decision but they didn't really come. I eventually did get some answers but they didn't help me out. People far wiser than me told me not to go searching because I wouldn't get the real truth, only perception at best and lies at worst, and they were right. I should have listened. That only led to further brokenness.

Sadly, this happens in ministry more often than it should. Sometimes God moves people in and out of my life and the purposes and results are far greater. But that's not what I'm talking about here. I miss my friend and wish her well but I just know she's made a bad choice. This leads to even more brokenness. But I can't take that on. It's hers to bear. I just don't want to watch it either.

So between these breaks in my heart (and that was just 1 example) and the actual break of my toes, I have realized something. It isn't until I get to the point of complete brokenness that I can be made completely whole. I've been holding back parts of my being from full service. What I'm holding it back for is a mystery. I mean, really, how is that going to benefit me? But, selling all out for the furtherance of God's plan for me, that not only benefits me but scores of others. Most of them I probably don't even know yet.

I've also realized that I can't depend on those around me to keep me whole. They will let me down. And as an aside, I will let them down too. If I let those incidents affect how or why I minister to people, the rest of my time in ministry will be like a roller coaster depending on what others do. That's ridiculous. It's not fair to others who truly need to be ministered to and it handicaps me or even paralyzes me from going on.

The only brokenness that is beneficial is when I'm broken over the lost or broken over my own sin. God has brought me to this point for me to recognize that I have not been sold out, that I am hanging on too tight to things and that it's time for me to let go.

And let God.....what? He gets to fill in that sentence. Not me.

A Snippet From My Soul

Normally my journal posts are for me but sometimes they are public, particularly after the lesson has been learned. This is one of those times when I feel the potential help to someone else is worth the vulnerability plus it dishonors nobody and does not divulge a confidence. I "un-personalized" the form of some of the thoughts and questions so it isn't quite so awkward to read. Here's a look into the the pages of my journal that reflects the agony of my soul...

For the last couple of days I’ve been pondering this one question…what will (or would) I look like bald? A few of us were talking yesterday (Sunday) about the intricate details God knows about us and how valuable we are. It all stemmed from the verse in Matthew (see post bottom) that references God knowing how many hairs are on our heads. One of the guys commented “well, mine are less than when we started talking about it.” I was already struggling with that thought silently... agonizing over it actually. It must be a full time job for God to keep track of the hairs on my head given the rapidity of their departure from my head.

A couple of weeks ago I wept as I lay in bed at this very thought…I am going to be bald. Steve just held on to my hand and listened as I lamented and sort of grieved over it—even though the process is slow(ish) and it hasn't happened yet. I asked, “Doesn’t it make you sad that I am losing my hair?” He said, “No, but it makes me sad that it makes you sad.” I then asked, “Will you still love me when I’m bald?” That might sound like a ridiculous question but I badly needed the reassurance. He said, “of course I’ll love you.” The truth is he loves me no matter what. We’ve been through a LOT over the years. He wiped the tears from my face. I must have cried for another 5 minutes before I fell asleep.

When I’m in that really good place of recognizing what’s important in life and what is not, I can easily see that losing my hair is not the worst thing that can happen to someone. But let’s face it—I am human like everyone else and a woman losing her hair is traumatic. It’s not insurmountable but it can be almost too much to bear. I also know there are women losing their hair for reasons far worse than mine…like cancer. In spite of everything, I have those days when I really can’t stand the thought.

It makes me smile that I’ve had 4 people tell me they want to go wig shopping with me IF the time comes it’s necessary. I have overwhelming support although the only person who has agreed to shave their head bald with me is Steve; everyone else is a definite “no”. Yet I’m sad. When will the blows stop coming? When will God recognize that I’ve already had more than I can bear? Or am I stronger than I think because it’s not me but Christ in me? It’s not about what I can handle but what God wants to handle through me. For His glory….it’s not about me. I am just the object of the lesson. A bald lesson, perhaps, but a lesson nonetheless.

Matthew 10:29-31 “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore, you are of more value than many sparrows.”

Oh, yes, I am valuable indeed. Even without a hair on my head I am valuable. That doesn’t mean I won’t cry over it. Again. And again. And maybe again. I guess it just means my tears over it are valuable too. God cares about them because He cares about me and everything that troubles me. 1 Peter 5:7 “Casting all your anxieties on Him for He cares for you.”