Hard Times Teach Me To Be Present.

Difficult times always teach me something. I may not like it, but it is true, and sometimes, I probably would not learn that lesson any other way. Lately, hard times have been teaching me to be present. 

I often struggle to live in the present, but presently, in this hard time, the ability to do so has become even more salient. In the midst of hard times, all my nervous system can handle is the now, and barely, at that. I often think of the verses in 2 Corinthians 1:8-9 where Paul writes, "We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself....But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead" (New International Version, 2011). I can handle the present only by relying on God's strength, not for today, or for tomorrow, but for now.

This hard time is teaching me to be present because I truly do not know what the future holds. I never really do, but it has become more apparent this time around. All I can do is try to be faithful in the moment, waiting and trusting that God will also give me strength to handle whatever comes in the future.

I hate hard times, really, I do, but God is sovereign over all. Therefore, I have to learn to accept this trial as something good from his hand. Maybe this will turn out good for me. Maybe it won't. What matters most is that it will turn out for the good of showing God's glory to the world. To be part of that is a present, and perhaps the greatest lesson that hard times can teach me. 

Reference:

New International Version. (2011). BibleGateway.com. http://www.biblegateway.com/versions/New-International-Version-NIV-Bible/

I'm Having a Reckoning.

I'm having a reckoning. I can't have the life I want, and have the control I want at the same time. I can't have time to see my friends and keep to my regular sleep and weekend nap schedule. I can't enjoy trying new food at restaurants and still get in all my fruits and vegetables and protein servings in like I do when I eat at home. I can't be productive and have all the time I want to rest. The ideal life I want just doesn't exist.

I have tried giving up some of my sleep on a few occasions. My evenings are more relaxing and enjoyable, but I feel pretty rotten in my body after just a few days. I enjoy trying delicious new sweets and eats, but too much, and they make me feel sick. All the tasks on my to-do list seem urgent. I know maybe they aren't, but they feel that way, especially when I have to keep paring back my list. No matter how hard I try, life just doesn't seem to be "right."

There has got to be a better way. Or is there? Controlling doesn't work. Letting go doesn't work. Maybe there's a balance? Maybe there's not. I think I am to the place where I think life is just hard.

I wonder if the best thing to do is just accept the way life is, look for the good, and try to hold more loosely to everything. If I could accept the the way life is, I might actually enjoy it more. I'm having a reckoning. I can't have the life I want. But maybe, just maybe, I can learn to appreciate the life I have.

Real Life Marriage: Keeping My Marriage

I love my husband. Always have. Always will. But I passed through a season not too long ago where I did not love married life. Sure, marriage had benefits. In no way was I considering divorce. We have a covenant marriage, after all. Married life just felt so, so hard, and I felt so defeated.

I preach that love is a choice, a commitment, and that applied, especially in this season. I had to keep choosing marriage, choosing sacrifice, choosing to do the hard, even if I didn't want to. That was my commitment.

In a recent sermon at church, one of our pastors stated, "Your usefulness is your holiness." That also applied in this season. If I wanted to be useful to my husband. If I wanted to stand for marriage, I had to be holy. Holiness is hard. God demands perfection after all (Matt 5:48). And aspiring to that level of holiness often hurts.

David writes about holiness in Psalm 15. He describes aspects of a holy person, including the fact that this person "keeps an oath, even when it hurts" (New International Version). That phrase has played through my mind over and over again. Marriage is an oath. Sometimes it hurts. A lot of time it hurts. It exposes my rough edges. It requires me to be selfless when I don't want to. It requires me to say, "Yes," when I want to say, "No;" and to say, "No," when I want to say, "Yes." But it's an oath I willingly made, and by God's grace, I will keep it.

I talked with my mom about how hard married life was one time and she remarked, "But you wouldn't have it any other way." I had to agree with her wisdom. Yes, married life was hard. I didn't want it to be. I didn't want the hard. I didn't want the hurt. I didn't want the pain. I also didn't want to give up my husband. Marriage was the only way to keep him.

I love my husband, and married life can be hard. The two are not mutually exclusive. Since I want to keep my husband, I have to keep my marriage. Since I have to keep my marriage, I have to keep my commitment to love. Love and the hard. I guess I'll keep them both.

Marriage Misnomers: Holy Not Happy

 "Marriage is to make you holy, not happy." A paraphrase from Gary Thomas', I heard this time and time again leading up to marriage. I even read the book (Sacred Marriage) from which the quote was taken. But I didn't fully agree. I still don't fully agree. Marriage is hard. It has a sanctifying effect, sure, but I'm convinced it doesn't exclude happiness. Maybe I'm going out on a limb, but I'm going to say that if your marriage doesn't bring you happiness, there is a problem.

We live in the 21st century, a time and a place where we have the privilege of choosing our spouses. We choose our spouses because of attraction, because of love, because of compatibility. One of my greatest joys in life is doing life with my husband: adventuring, cooking, paying bills, even going shopping. (Yes, these same activities also bring sanctification.) I mourn for my brothers and sisters who want to experience this happiness, but have not yet been granted its gift. Marriage provides opportunities for future joy, too: in celebration, in dating, in intimacy, in laughter. The author of Proverbs realized that when he wrote, "May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth" (Proverbs 5:18, New International Version [NIV]). Is there hard stuff? Sure. But if the hard stuff eclipses happiness all the time, that might be a sign that your marriage is not in the right place.

Marriage accelerates growth. We need to weigh that fact, consider it, and take it to heart before we get married. When we get married, we need to be aware of the attacks that will come against our marriages. We need to work at at marriages lest they stagnate. We need to be holy because first and foremost, marriage honors God. But we must not forsake joy and happiness, because God is Joy. Happiness helps keep our marriages healthy, and healthy marriages image God.

Marriage is to make us not only happy, but also holy. Marriage is to make us not only holy, but also more joy-filled. Marriage can make us holy and happy. I think that's a better way to put it.

Going to the Word

It's been a dark season. I'm not sure it's over yet. But over the past few days, I've been pushed more towards the Word, drawn to it even. Here are a few recent reflections--

Regarding burdens:

Very recently I had an evening of almost oppressive sorrow: my own grief over unmet expectations, lost opportunities, etc.; grief for the loss of loved ones; grief over hardship for loved ones. The verse playing through my mind was, "Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" (Galatians 6:2, New International Version). 

But Lord, I said. Who will carry my burdens? I am carrying so much. I have no one. (Or at least that's the way it felt.)

But the verse kept weighing on my heart. So I started praying, Lord, will you bear my burdens? God, I need you to bear my burdens.

And then the Spirit drove me to study burdens in the Word. These are the verses of reassurance that I found:

Psalm 54:4
Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me.

Psalm 55:22
Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.

Psalm 68:19
Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.

Isaiah 46:4
Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

Matthew 11:28
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

1 Peter 5:7
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you

No confident pie-in-the-sky hope here. Just quiet reassurance rest in the ONLY one who can bear my burdens perfectly. Praise the Lord!

Regarding the hard:

And last night, I felt empty, needy, so I pulled down my Romans journal and read chapter eight. Verse 28 jumped off the page.

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."

(English Standard Version, ESV)

All things. Not just some. God works all things together for good. Not necessarily for my personal local good, but for  global, holistic, God-defined good. All things. Even the hard now. Even the past that was hard. Even the hard that may come. All things.

I'm not sure my hard, the world's hard is over. I really think it's not. But God. But God's Word. It still stands. It stands the test of time even. 

I need daily sustenance. God is giving me His Word as daily bread. I am a fool not to receive it. May I ever go to the Word and never forsake it, even in hard. Especially in the hard.

The Power of the "&"

I am a counselor. But I am a young one, and an inexperienced one at that. And that's why I appreciate supervision, and supervisors, the older, wiser women who watch what I do and point out how I can do it better. Lately, my supervisors have pointed out how often I use the word, "But."

"Yes, but."
"But have you thought of."
"But you're making progress.":

"But is a dismissive word," they say. And as I've listened, I've realized they're right. But leaves room for only one option. And many, many things in life co-exist. Like joy and grief, like happiness and sorrow, like hard and good. The more and more I think about it, the more I realize the power of the "and."

My own life presently is full of ands. The goodness of marriage and the pain of its growth. The fulfillment of my work and the sorrow it brings. The excitement of what's ahead and the sadness of what I will leave. The pleasantness of friends and the way they call me out on my weaknesses and failings. The gracious salvation of Jesus and the conviction of the Holy Spirit. The joy of this present world, and yet intense longing for the one to come.

There's power in the and, friends. There is power in letting seeming opposites co-exist. Difficulty comes with the "but," because it leaves no space for all the complexities that are life.

So here's to the "&", and using it more, in work, life, and beyond!

I've Been In Your Chair.

I've been in your chair. I've been in that place of darkness and depth and desperation (and sometimes I still find myself there). I've needed insight and help and encouragement and guidance and motivation. And people were there for me.

I've had several kids ask me why I do what I do over the past few years. Quite simply, I've been there. I went through a long period of darkness in my early teen years, and even into college and my early adulthood. (And I'm not saying I don't have dark days now. I do.) But I was in a period of life where I was incredibly self destructive, where I didn't believe anyone loved me, where all I saw was darkness, and I needed help. I needed professional help.

I went to a variety of professionals (both physical and mental practitioners) during that time. Some were helpful. Some were not. But the helpful ones, the counselors who propelled me towards the Lord and towards freedom were the ones that gave me information that made a difference. They were the ones who walked with me through hard times, who didn't tell me it was going to be okay, but who held hope for me that one day my life would be better. And praise the Lord, it is. Some of those people know where I am today. Some don't. But those who knew me then and know me now can testify that I am a different person.

As a counselor, I'm not saying I'm beyond counseling. I've been back to counseling several times since my intensive days, and I'm not against going again. As a Christian, I'm not saying that prayer and accountability and lay person encouragement don't make a difference, either. They do. But sometimes you just need professional help. You need an outside observer, an impartial party, someone you can yell at, and be angry at, and not have to be in an everyday relationship with. Someone who will help you process the hard things. Someone who can give you insight and perspective and guidance. Some days, I'm honored to be in that chair.

I've been in your chair. That's how I got to my chair. By God's grace, I'm a counselor. And if I'm your counselor, I'm honored to hold hope for you, because others once held hope for me. And by the Holy Spirit's power, I'll keep holding hope for you, and for a better world until Christ returns and makes all things new.

Life is Hard.

I was somehow under the impression that life would get easier at some point. That at some point, I could just celebrate and have some sadness lingering over me. Maybe I wouldn't arrive. But I could at least be content and not want more. Nope! Life is hard. It just is.

I'm an ISFJ, and I feel things deeply. I feel it when a kid gets removed from their parents. I feel it when coworkers argue. I feel it when friends and family members are struggling. I feel it when the seasons change. I feel it when the skies are gray. I feel it when the country is in a state of upheaval from the latest terrorist act, school shooting, or court case.

But I also feel the joy when adoptive homes open. When people reconcile. When family and friends succeed. When hopes springs anew. When the sun shine. When there is redemption. 

Life is bittersweet. And as Brene Brown says, “We can't selectively numb emotion. Numb the dark and you numb the light.” I am finding that to be true. I can't feel the joy without feeling the pain. I can't feel the gladness without feeling the sorrow. I can't celebrate without having wept.

So if I'm going to live life, I guess I'm going to have to accept that life is hard. Because I have to see that life is hard to feel that life is also good and worth living.

Singleness is a Lonely Place.

I've been single for my entire life. It wasn't such a big deal when I was in high school, or college, or even a little bit post college. I had my family, my friends, and my people. But now, as I pass 30 and head into the wide unknown of the future, my singleness hurts.

As a teen, I always thought I would get married and have my own family post-college. I had life planned out up until that point. When college ended and I found myself unmarried, I wasn't quite sure what to do. But God provided a place for me to live with college girls and they became my family. In some ways, it was weird being the only working adult in a house full of college students, but I became a surrogate mom of sorts. In that role, I harped on the girls to keep the house clean, tried to model a "normal" sleep schedule, and even signed the discharge papers for a roommate who had an unexpected emergency room trip. I found my place, for a few years.

My college friends got married and some of them moved on. I started graduate school for counseling and though I felt called to talk that step, I still had the idea in the back of my mind that I might get married afterward. "Counseling would be a good side job if I had a family," I thought. But grad school came and went and even my very best friends married and moved on. I decided to move myself.

I had no expectation that I'd get married when I moved home to Arizona. But I also had no idea that I'd end up actually living at home with my parents for over two years (and I'm going on year three!) This has been a redeeming time, but I am also realizing how very lonely I feel. I'm trying to figure out where I fit and how to find my own community outside my family of origin, and it's HARD.

There isn't a great place for singles in the world, and especially in the church. I hid out for awhile after I got home, trying to find a community of people like myself. But I mostly found older singles recovering from divorce, married moms my own age, and much younger high schoolers. I didn't do a whole lot with any of them because I felt out of place and different. But then I got desperate for community and convicted that I needed to try it, and I and started to humble myself and reach out more. I started going to the Bible study of mostly older, married women, hanging out with 18 year-olds on worship team, and basically doing whatever I could to find and associate with people. As a result my singleness has begun to be acknowledged and I have made some friends, which is refreshing in some ways. But now it's like I'm the poster child for singleness and the receipt of extra advice and feedback in that department. It's kind of a catch-22.

My mom says I'm sensitive about my singleness, and I think she's right. Singleness is a my reality right now, but it's not the sum total of my existence. I'm a counselor, a daughter, a friend, and a child of God. I have a lot of relationships that need love and attention, and in some ways, my singleness allows me to give more attention to those than I could if I was married. Singleness has some benefits, too. As a single, I can travel at will (as long as I schedule time off work). I have expendable income. I can make decisions and take risks that, to some extent, don't adversely affect others. I am able to hang out with a wide variety of people that I otherwise might not be able to. Do I still want to be married? Yes, but I'm not sure if that's God's will for me, and I know I can be lonely even in a marriage, because only God can completely meet my needs.

Singleness is a lonely place, but I think it can also be a lovely place, if I let it. I just need to stop focusing so much on my loneliness and live life. Because if I just live life, I think I'll find myself more thankful, more grateful, more content, and more satisfied. Singleness isn't my life. Christ is my life, and He is the only One who will never leave nor forsake me (Deut 31:8).