Shaking off the Monxiety Monkey

Anxiety is no longer an acceptable “residence” for me. I know there will be anxious moments in my life and I won’t ignore that fact. But I feel like I’ve seen enough of God’s faithfulness in His promises to carry me through MOST difficulties. I believe I understand that even if the worst happens in my life that God’s love for me is not nullified. Though I’ll admit I’ve lived a pretty cushy existence to date. So I guess we’ll see what happens when the rubber meets the road. But what I HAVE experienced has only shown God’s care and intentionality even in the dark seasons.

There have been a few moments of clarity in life in which I’ve decided to move past a certain emotional response like anxiety. A couple years ago, I decided not to yield to my fear of people. I have written in caps, “I will not be afraid,” across a page in my bible. Did it work? Well, sort of. I’m still a petrified people-pleaser. But I’ve put myself in an increasing number of situations in the last couple years where I’ve had to swallow my fear. That’s felt good.

So I’m hopeful that this resolution that came out of a meeting last month with pastor Dan will keep bearing fruit in my heart. I realized that God has always provided for me and there’s no logical reason for me to believe that He will stop providing. (To be fair, I’m also coming to term with the fact that “provision” doesn’t always mean, “cushion” and I’m okay with that because I trust His character.) That resolution has already saved me from dwelling in anxiety on several occasions since then. When I feel it cropping up, I’m newly empowered to shake my head and dismiss it as ridiculous. Even today, I’m shaking off money anxiety (“monxiety??”) as I try to go to church not asking, “who will support me?” But rather, “who can I love?”  It seems juvenile for me to spend whole days at this point doubting the Father over money when he’s always given us food and shelter (and fun-money to boot)!

So I’m hopeful: Hopeful that the experience of relief from financial anxiety will also bring relief in other areas of anxiety in my life. My marriage, my ministry, my sense of purpose and identity…. They could all use a little rest from the strain of anxiety.

Dear Russian: who are you?

Over the course of my blogging career, I’ve had at least one anonymous person in Russia following me faithfully. In fact, I have more hits from Russia than from any other country outside the United States. I find that interesting because about a month ago, God put the city of St. Petersburg on my heart. I’ve never cared for Russia as a destination or a place of ministry. There is very little there that has captured my attention (all of my attention being so fully consumed by the great continent of Africa). But similar God-nudges  have changed the course of my life before (my trip to Atlanta which introduced me to WDA being the prime example).

So I’m making it my ambition to visit the city of St. Petersburg somehow in the not-too-distant future. I may have my chance on one end of an upcoming teaching trip to the Congo in August. We’ll see. Whatever the case, I’d like to see if there is more to this nudgey feeling than a random magnetism toward the frozen North or a hankering for borsch.  

So my dear unknown Russian: if any of this strikes you as curious or beautiful or plain freaky, I think we should talk. Shoot me a message, eh? Мы должны говорить.

Unzenny thoughts from a wannabe monk

I suppose I’m kind of a mystic. Highly spiritual, inclined toward superstition. I’ve been that way since elementary school. As a kid, I remember some highly compulsive praying, bible reading, even tithing (I once gave my whole quarter jar to a random cause because the Mood struck). Around Jr. High, I became enamored of “deep thoughts” and fancied that I was the only one who had them. I see depth and significance even where there is none. I lack the natural talent for bringing life out of the stratosphere and into the day-to-day. I would suck at business. Of course some of my favorite people are the earthy, refreshingly-honest ones who can laugh at themselves. (Here’s lookin’ at you, Lisa Ernster.)

Recently I’ve been thinking about my spiritual goals in pursuing daily hang-out time with Jesus. I’m chewing on a statement from my last blog post: “my relationship with Jesus sometimes looked more like a meditative quest for self-betterment than an actual relationship.” Sure enough. I think part of what I’m looking for in these daily times is a feeling of tranquility…. Spiritual Zen to start my day…. Which, when I think of it that way, makes me laugh. Truth is, life isn’t all that "zenny" to begin with. It’s not meant to be. It’s full of complex feelings and situations for which emotional detachment is unhelpful at best.

I was reading Habakkuk 3: a prayer against the enemies of Israel. I was pretty struck (again) with the tumult and violence of his imagery. Then again… Habakkuk didn’t live in the suburbs. He didn’t wake up and drink coffee each morning in on a brown leather couch. And I imagine he wasn’t a just-think-happy-thoughts kind of guy. Why should he be? He lived in a time of political turmoil and daily physical insecurity.

I imagine gentile armies advancing against sinful Jerusalem much like imagine the Visigoths cresting the hill over Rome: vast barbarian hoards bringing the worst that war has to offer. And Habakkuk prays:

² LORD, I have heard of your fame;
   I stand in awe of your deeds, LORD.
Repeat them in our day,
   in our time make them known;
   in wrath remember mercy.

The enemy advances. In my mind (for some reason), they lurch like orcs… or zombies….

⁵ Plague went before [God];
   pestilence followed his steps.
⁶ He stood, and shook the earth;
   he looked, and made the nations tremble.

Terror spreads through the city as siege ramps are built outside.

¹⁰ the mountains saw you and writhed.
Torrents of water swept by;
   the deep roared
   and lifted its waves on high.

The gates are breached and the enemy of God’s chosen people rush in to conquer and plunder.

 ¹⁶ I heard and my heart pounded,
   my lips quivered at the sound;
decay crept into my bones,
   and my legs trembled.
Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity
   to come on the nation invading us.

Habakkuk watches as soldiers rush past his window creating panic and destruction throughout the city. He feels keenly the uncertainty of his life.

¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
   I will be joyful in God my Savior.

 ¹⁹ The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
   he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
   he enables me to tread on the heights.

My point is that Habakkuk (“can I call ya Hab?”) is no mountain-top guru. Sure he ends on a happy note here. But what I’m saying is that his faith coexists with his other emotions. It doesn’t cancel them out. In one prayer he feels distressed, decaying, anxious, quivery, vengeful, worshipful, and empowered. And he feels okay about that. Do I feel okay about it?

Uh. No. But I want to be okay with it. At home. At church. Every day. It’s a particularly un-zenny idea: that our daily ambition with Jesus shouldn’t be to eliminate unpleasant emotions but to allow them to exist alongside our big-picture beliefs. It’s less Tibetan and more Semitic. But I think in the end it suits us better. After all… we’re not called to be mystics (though I dare say it’s okay to be wired that way).... Just real people getting realer with Jesus as He reveals the really real.

Receiving Love

Do I sometimes wonder if Jesus will orphan me... if one day, I’ll just stop hearing from Him and be left wondering if I can ever win him back? Will I feel powerless as he drifts away, disinterested, or disappointed in me? Of course, He’s saying "no" today. This morning, Father is saying to me, “The thing I need you to believe is that I love you, you are my child, I fashioned you, and there’s no way in the world that I will abandon you.” John 14 (a faithful companion the last few months) says as much: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you… If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him and we will come to him and make our home with him.”

I know all this stuff. But God keeps saying it to me every time I open my ears. I guess I don’t fully believe it yet. And something tells me he’ll still be asking me to believe His love when I’m old.

His love has been piercing the leathery layers of my defenses for years. And even though today it makes me cry like a baby, I know it still hasn’t totally taken over my heart. And I know it’s no good to me unless I receive it.

I imagine myself receiving some random act of kindness from a friend. At first, I sneer inwardly, and demand the chance to do it for myself. Over time, my response becomes an embarrassed refusal of his kindness. Eventually, I let him serve me but try to pay him back. After he refuses, I let him serve me but formulate a backup plan in case he withdraws his love. With Jesus, I hope someday I can move beyond those responses and feel the safety to lay my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and just let him be nice to me. In fact I fancy that my primary “work” each morning in my devotional time is to simply allow him to love me—none of this pursuit of holiness, spiritual discipline, or self-improvement stuff. That’s all great stuff. But before all I think about any of that, I sit alone on this couch and try to be open to His love…. displayed both on the cross and in my daily life. That trust in His love is the primary task of every Christian. Out of that simple belief flows all the personal transformation I could ever ask for. Like Augustine said, “Love God and do as you please.”

Once, after I was newly married, I reflected that Jesus’ love empowered me to love my wife. An atheist friend of mine took offense at that, imagining that I believed he was unable to fully love his wife. In hindsight, I think I was right that Jesus’ love uniquely enables people to love others. But I couldn’t know at the time how little I understood of that love. My marriage was often crippled by fears and paranoia. I was often critical and judgmental towards Debra: a “love-miser”. In fact, MANY of my relationships have been guarded and loveless. Even my relationship with Jesus sometimes looked more like a meditative quest for self-betterment than an actual relationship.

But 2 years ago, God started busting through my defenses as he embarrassed me with an extravagant dose of love from his Daddy-heart. I cried a lot after that as he started to heal old hurts. There were time I would cry at the weirdest stuff. At the same time, I started to feel this Daddy-heart beating in ME for the first time. I developed this strange parental affection for some of my friends. I started asking better questions and listening more attentively. These days when I sit down with someone, I imagine I’m putting on x-ray goggles. I imagine that I can see past their moving lips, down their esophagus, into their hearts (metaphorically speaking…. Annabel once told me, “Jesus looks into our hearts to see how much blood is in there!”). I try to remember that somewhere inside, this person is a vulnerable child just like me, that they are loved just like me. It helps me move past my anxious posturing, judging, impressing, and sizing-up to a restful place where I can begin to love that person because Jesus loves them with embarrassing extravagance… just like He loves me.

If anything, I’m starting to grasp how far I am from resting my head on His shoulder, closing my eyes, and letting Him be nice to me. It’s not a matter of being insufficient as a disciple. Rather I think I’m over-sufficient… self-sufficient.

PS- Here are a couple things that God used to bust through my heart with His love:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwhYCB5jL9w&feature=list_related&playnext=1&list=SP1CC8B46C100BED5B

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyfH3T8HXZg