The Aliens Among Us
Posted on: November 8, 2016
One common themes in science fiction is the idea of aliens among us. You know, the “others” who look just like us, but who are not, in fact, of this Earth. Sometimes they have taken over living bodies, sometimes they’ve cloned bodies, sometimes they simply morph. Us, but not us. The trick is to identify them.
In less than 6 hours from the time I post this, West coast time, this election season is f-i-n-a-l-l-y going to be officially over. There will likely be plenty of further accusation and mud-slinging and blame-gaming, but at least we won’t have to be endure the constant barrage of campaign advertising and robocalls.
Many Christians are bemoaning the choice of the two front-runners. Both candidates have serious, even shocking, flaws for someone being considered for the highest office in the land. Yet why should we be surprised that these two have reached this stage? Each of them is simply filling a role that the trajectory of our country has created. if we didn’t have Trump and Clinton, we would still have some kind of “Trump” and some kind of “Clinton” rising to power because the deep wells of anxiety, anger and fear that each has tapped into demands an outlet.
It is distressing how many Christians have participated in that anxiety, anger, and fear, how many have polarized themselves to one side or the other. We fret and carry on as if the fate of the country, if not the world, if not even the church itself, depends on whoever occupies the White House, or which party has the majority in Congress, or who sits on the bench of the SCOTUS. We are preparing ourselves for DOOM if the Wrong Candidate wins. We are caught up in the political whirlwind and are blinded by the dust.
Many Christians have worried that if we don’t elect a “Christian” candidate (or at least someone claiming that status), all Hell will break loose. We have to elect someone who will “protect the church.” Yet in the first verses of Isaiah 45, go read what God says of the PAGAN Persian king, “Thus says the Lord to His anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have grasped, … For the sake of my servant Jacob, and Israel my chosen, I call you by your name, I name you, though you do not know me.” (emphasis added) There are also other passages that make clear God’s use of pagan kings in accomplishing His purposes for the nation of Israel. God’s ability to use a non-believer just as easily as He can a believer has not changed.
The kingdom of the earth and the Kingdom of God are not one and the same, and we cannot create the second by means of the first. Indeed, the latter holds complete sovereignty over the other. The Apostle John reports that Jesus told Herod, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given to you from above.” (John 19:11, emphasis added) Paul likewise states in the 13th chapter of his letter to the believers in Rome that “…there is not authority except by God’s will, and those which exist are appointed by God.” Peter echoes the same thought in the passage in the 2nd chapter of his first letter explaining why followers of Christ should obey human authority – “…because they are sent by Him…” No one sneaks into power because they caught God looking the other way.
In Jesus’ day, many attempted to get Him to involve Himself in the political landscape. Always, He refused. Politics get almost no mention at all by the New Testament writers, although for most of the period during which they were writing, the church faced persecution, including imprisonment and horrific death at the hands of Roman authorities. Yet the only mentions of the persecution are in reference to encouraging the believers to endure faithfully through it. There isn’t a single word condemning the Roman government. No call to protest or work for the overthrow of it, even by peaceable means.
Our citizenship is in Heaven, not on earth. Time and time again we are reminded that we are strangers and foreigners. Aliens. In Hebrews 11, the Faith Hall of Fame, Abraham is commended for living “in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, as a stranger, living in tents … for he was looking forward to the city with foundations, of which the architect and designer is God.” There were plenty of cities in Canaan. Cities with sturdy houses. Cities with strong walls behind which to find a sense of safety. Yet Abraham lived there in tents – moveable, not permanent, that could blow away in the wind, that provided no defense against attack. He did not take his identity from his surroundings, but from his future home.
Paul tells Timothy (II Tim 2:4), “No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him.” Are we not soldiers of the Cross, engaged in a mighty spiritual battle? Why then do we allow ourselves to become so engrossed in the affairs of politics that we allow them to distract us from following the directions of our Lord and Commander? When Christians engage in slander, rage, and hatred; when they ignore or excuse evil for the supposed sake of a greater good; when doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with our God is the opposite of what the world sees us doing, then we are living in the world’s cities, not in our tents. We have forgotten the City to which we truly belong.
Our political system allows for citizen participation. There is nothing wrong with Christians taking advantage of that right if they so choose, but we should never get too attached to our politics. Though there are real temporal consequences, Jesus’ directives for living out the Gospel have far more serious eternal ones. No matter who wins today, our marching orders remain the same.
We are just visiting this planet. We are the aliens among us. Let’s make it easier to identify us!
No Incomplete Sentences Pt. 2
Posted on: October 30, 2016
The first part of this article was posted just previous to the last one. (Since the publishing of that last one, an update on my crazy life, at the end of September, my daughter and I were hit by another car in an accident that totaled mine. I am slowly recovering. In the mornin’, in the evenin’, ain’t we got fun?)
In Part 1, I focused on the fact that when God observed, “It is not good that man should be alone. I will make a helper fit for him”, He did NOT say, “Adam is unfinished. I better make the rest of him.” Adam and Eve were each complete in God just as God made them. Singles need not – should not – ever be considered as or consider themselves to be somehow “less than” because of their not-married status.
However, it’s not just single folks who get confused about what makes a “whole” life.
Our modern romantic expectations of marriage are far beyond what was expected in the past. These days, we’re supposed to be each others’ “soul mate”. Some in the church have compounded the confusion by melding that pop concept with the Biblical description of the two that become “one flesh”. It’s quite an inaccurate reading of Scripture, since “one flesh” is not used only to describe marriage. In I Co. 6:16, Paul warns, “Or do you not know that he who is joined to a prostitute becomes one body with her? For, as it is written, ‘The two will become one flesh.’” No, “one flesh” doth not a “soul mate” make.
Looking for a spouse to be our “soul mate” is dangerous. Some of us have hearts that are easily misled – especially if we are too eager to find Mr./Miss Right. Even if we marry someone who is, to all first experience, such a match, if we start judging our spouse on whether he is fulfilling that role, and he fails, we fuel the fires of discontent and feel ourselves to be incomplete because he isn’t meeting our needs. If we judge our spouse on whether she is fulfilling that role, and she succeeds, we risk putting her in a position only God is meant to occupy. At the root of the “soul mate” concept is the fallacy that ANY person apart from God can complete us. When joined in the mystic union that is Christian marriage, something greater than the sum of its parts IS created – but that something will cease to exist the moment that “death do us part.” Husband and wife are not “partial” people who only become “whole” together, and then are sentenced to live only “half lives” once one spouse has died. Marriage has never been about completing us.
We are complete because GOD is the One Who completes us.
Parenthood has similar pitfalls. Just as those in a marriage may unintentionally put their spouse in a priority where s/he doesn’t belong, those of us with kids may do the same thing. If we have a great relationship with our kids, we may let that substitute for a relationship with our own Heavenly Father. We may so immerse themselves in the lives of our kids that when the kids grow up and leave, all the we can see in our lives is emptiness instead of opportunity. Our children may wound us, turn away from us, abandon us. There are couples who struggle with infertility to the point of becoming so obsessed with it that, like unhappy singles, they define themselves entirely by what they DON’T have.
Yet, although Scripture certainly speaks often of children as a blessing, it just as certainly never speaks of children as making us “whole” people or their absence making us “less than.” No matter what our relationship is with our children, no matter what our children’s choices may be, no matter whether we even have children, we are complete because GOD is the One Who completes us.
Married, single. Parent, childless. Any of these we may be called into or out of, but we must always recognize that our completion does not depend on which He calls us to, on whether He calls us to the role our heart desires, or on the outcome of that calling. For those in an unhappy marriage or divorced or left behind by death; for those who are single but yearn to be married; for those whose children have spurned them or those arms are empty and aching for a child; however incomplete we may feel, we ARE complete in Him. For those in a great marriage, for those close with their kids, however fulfilling those relationships, our completion is in HIM. Content in singleness or childlessness? Remember that “self” is never sufficient; we are complete ONLY in Him. His first calling to ALL is the same as it has always been: to follow Him and learn of Him and allow the Spirit to conform us to the image of the Son. He has promised us that He has given us, is giving us, and will continue to give us, everything we need for this to be so. “His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and Godliness, through the knowledge of Him Who called us to His own glory and excellence, by which He has granted to us His precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the Divine Nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.” 2 Peter 1:3-4
None of us are sentenced to a life of being incomplete. In Him, we ARE complete, always.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle…
Posted on: August 22, 2016
It has come to my attention that I have neglected to write a post I should have written some months ago. Forgive me.
On March 25, I posted “Resurgence” when I was in the grip of a bipolar down. It had been going on since some time in the fall of last year. It actually started gradually easing off some weeks after I wrote the post, and the pendulum is still swinging toward the other extreme, which isn’t a good thing, but FEELS better. However, my life had exploded about a week before I wrote the post, was in absolute chaos for several months, and has continued to be punctuated by periods of frantic activity, so that frankly, I didn’t remember that I needed to write this.
What happened was this: I am caregiver and power-of-attorney for my husband’s cousin who lives here in town. Call her M. Her history with her son, A., is long and complicated. Enough to say he got out of a 19 year stretch in prison 3 years ago and hasn’t made much of a go at life on the outside. Events were such that it led to an incident with him on March 18th that sent M. to the hospital for self-harm from emotional distress, and convinced me (backed by the staff at the hospital, and the responding police officers) that a protection order against him was needed. As I was going into court on the 21st to petition for the emergency protection order, I received a call that M. had fallen and severely fractured her right femur 5” above the knee. (It was 4 days later I did the Resurgence post.) The next 6 weeks were a nightmare. It took 4 hearings related to the protection order before it was at last granted. A. agreed to a drug treatment plan, but never showed up for it, resulting in two more hearings. M. spent 10 days in the hospital and had a 12” plate and 14 screws put in to mend her leg, then was sent to a rehab facility 30 miles up the freeway because Group Health was spooked over the protection order. 2 hours after arriving there, M., who is diabetic, suffered a major sugar crash, but it took me over half an hour to convince the staff that it was that, NOT just that she was having trouble “adjusting” to being there! (She could have actually died had I not been there.) The duration of her 5 weeks there were little better. Once she got out in May, the poor home physical therapy she received resulted in her actually going BACKWARD, so that she went home almost ready to give up her wheelchair entirely, but within a month was barely able to stand. She had multiple doctor appointments. I, too, had multiple appointments to catch up on issues I hadn’t been able to deal with during her incarceration at the rehab place. My daughter had some health issues going on in her family, so I watched the girls, one or all, a few times. When we got to June, A. violated the protection order twice, and was picked up on drug charges in between. At the end of June, my brother from Texas was here for 3 days, and my son, wife and two granddaughters for 10, around the wedding of our younger son on the 28th. My dh retired on the 30th. Through July, there were one or two hearings each week for A.’s violations of the protection order.; I attended most of them as M.’s representative. Toward the last of July, M. spent nearly a week in the hospital with the most severe case of esophagitis the doctors had ever seen; the area of her esophagus from mid-throat to her stomach as like raw hamburger. (Because of her cognitive issues, I have to stay with her most of the time to be sure she is getting the proper care.) On August 8th, A. reached plea deals on the protection order violations. He should have remained in jail pending trial on the drug charges, but was mistakenly released, and is currently being sought to be returned to custody. About 2 weeks ago, I developed bursitis down from my right hip, and have had problems with my low back and left shoulder off-and-on to add to the fun. Just over a week ago, a dear niece living across the state who has been on/off homeless, with major issues with substance abuse, called and said she was coming over here and wants to get into a recovery program. The journey so far has been, um, circuitous, let’s say. Maybe she’ll get here tomorrow. Maybe not. After that, God knows.
A little bit busy, yes?
Back to Resurgence…. It was the first time I had ever gone so public while still in the middle of a bad stretch (and it was far from the worst it can be, at that.) My purpose in doing it was to be vulnerable and try to give the “normals” out there a glimpse into my world, and give the rest of us a voice. The post had very mixed success, to say the least.
On the up side, I got a lot of positive feedback that both of those goals were accomplished for some in the audience. On the down side, some people actually dismissed what I expressed as me just being “dramatic”, or as “exaggerating” the situation, even making sarcastic comments about my references to “the Monster.”
The end of my post got by far the most misinterpretation. It’s a natural enough response when someone we care about says they are hurting to want to reach out and say “I love you”, quote a Bible verse, give some word of encouragement. I said I wasn’t writing my post to solicit any of those; I already KNOW that’s how those who love me feel, but right then, I didn’t want to be inundated with a slew of emails to respond to. I stated that if folks chose to send the kind of verbal hugs I had just said I wasn’t asking for, I was likely not to respond. Right then, I was just too overwhelmed. (Remember, this was only 4 days after M.’s fall and surgery and starting the protection order process! I was spending 10 hours a day at the hospital, trying to keep on top of things at home, trying to gather documentation I’d need for the protection order hearing, AND dealing with the Monster – it was sometimes all I could do to just keep breathing.)
Some people sent things anyway. “I know you probably won’t answer, but I still want you to know…” That was fine! In fact, I have TREMENDOUSLY appreciated those of you who have continued to write as normal, just keeping me up on what’s going on in YOUR life, even if I haven’t answered. I have appreciated those of you who have called just to say a quick hi, or chat about nothing special. I have appreciated those of you who have asked questions such as, “How are your grandkids?” or “What are your kids up to?” or “Has Rob retired yet?” (And those of you who’ve listened to me vent? YOU are priceless!!!)
To my chagrin, though, some folks read the paragraph as if I had said, “Don’t. Talk. To. Me.” And with all kindly intent, they shut me out of their life. I didn’t know that, of course, because, well, they shut me out of their life. I’ve only recently learned about it as circumstances have brought a few back in contact. Please forgive me that I didn’t make myself clear enough; I was writing in a rather desperate state. If you thought that’s what I meant, please end the silence, ok?
Other than my physical ills – which, face it, are a never-ending issue, though the scenery rotates – life is reasonably calm at the moment. M. is doing much better in all respects; out-patient physical therapy is helping her rapidly regain her mobility. A. will hopefully be back in custody soon and spend a few years in prison, out of trouble. My niece … well, we’ll see. Rob and I are adjusting to his retirement. We’re almost to the point of feeling like it’s not just a long vacation. We thoroughly enjoyed the visits with my brother and son and family in June. The kids are all doing well, although three of them are in need of employment. Two of my oldest daughter’s girls – the 4 and 2 yo.s – were diagnosed with celiac, and the dad most likely, awaiting biopsy reports, so we’ve plunged into the Gluten Free adventure. My grandprincesses continue to be enchantingly adorable. 3 yo Nona recently told her dad that she was “UNdisobeying.” 4 yo Fiona was running naked to “give [her] bellybutton some air.” 6 yo Beverly is reading – um, no, devouring – American Girl books, Calvin and Hobbes, and Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. 4 yo Naomi is still my kitty girl who love kitties “because they are quiet and do not jump up on you.” 2 yo Rosie was heard in the car scolding the sunlight, “Weave! My! Wegs! A-WONE!!!” And God is still good, as always.
For now, in the jungle, the mighty jungle, the …. Monster sleeps. And I am grateful.
No incomplete sentence, Pt. 1
Posted on: May 2, 2016
Anyone who sees me much knows I love wearing bling, especially earrings. I have dozens, of all colors and shapes, made of both common and exotic materials, for every season, and for every style of dress from casual to glitzy. I hate it when I lose an earring. Since my piercings are in matched sets, a single earring does me no good. The worth of any single earring is tied to having the other.
Sadly, too many folks think of people that way– that our worth lies only in our relationship to having some other person in our life, that without that “other” we are, in fact, incomplete.
Society certainly tends to see it that way. Whether having a bevy of beaus or a harem, serial monogamy, a long-term relationship, or marriage, the pressure to be with somebody is enormous. Sadly, the church, in its desire to hold up the value of marriage, is often little better. Remarks addressed in sermons to the adults in the congregation often assume, or at least infer, that “we’re all married – or will be.” Most churches don’t know what to DO with their singles once those singles get much beyond college age. Many churches’ singles’ groups function like a dating service. If an adult is possessed of at least reasonable intelligence, moderate abilities, pleasant personality, and is considered to have relatively pleasing looks, yet stays single, s/he will often face the question, “How come a wonderful chick/guy like you isn’t married?” – as if the only reason God would even MAKE such a person is for s/he to be married! Singles who don’t meet those criteria? Well, if they don’t marry, they are simply objects of pity, stuck forever in a “less than” life.
But it’s a lie. A bald-faced, straight-up, direct-from-the-Father-of-Lies-himself lie.
Way back in the very beginning, not long after God created Adam, observing Adam’s lack of true companionship, God said, “It is not good that man should be alone”, and the result was the creation of Eve. For many people, that passage is interpreted as a statement about the pre-eminence of the marriage relationship as critical for the full human experience. But pay attention to what God did NOT say. He did not say, “Oops! I left part of Adam out. I better make the rest of him.” God didn’t create Adam with a piece missing. Adam was alone, but he was not incomplete. Eve was to be Adam’s helper, his Ebenezer, his companion, but she was NOT his “finishing touch.” Adam was a whole person just as God made him. Eve was “bone of [Adam’s] bone and flesh of [Adam’s] flesh”, but although the process of her creation differed from Adam’s in that she wasn’t made “from scratch”, so to speak, she, nevertheless, was created a whole person in her own right. Both male and female were required for reflecting the full image of God. Companionship is required to experience the fellowship that exists in the Godhead – but just because the first man and woman married doesn’t mean that companionship can ONLY mean marriage.
Although the patriarchs of the Old Testament were (obviously!) married, we do not know the marital status of all of the O.T. judges and prophets; of those for whom there is no mention of a wife or children, it is reasonable to assume that at least some were unmarried. We know Jeremiah remained single because he was, in fact, expressly forbidden by God to marry. (Jeremiah 16:1 vv) John the Baptist did not marry. Jesus Himself, of course, did not marry. Only the marital status of a few of the apostles or men and women active in the ministry of the early church is referenced; it is more than likely that some of them were unattached. The greatest evangelist and writer of the major portion of the canonical New Testament, the apostle Paul, was single – and adamantly so! How ludicrous to think of any of these as somehow living only half-lives because of they were not “conjugally matrimonified”, as it is put in Pirates of Penzance.
It is interesting that Paul, though single, is one of the most eloquent writers about the marriage relationship. His instructions on marriage given in Ephesians were a radical departure from the cultural attitude of the time. His assertion that marriage is to be a reflection of the relationship between Christ and the Church elevated marriage to a high new spiritual plane. Yet even so, Paul made very clear that there is not a higher value in being married than in being single. Indeed, throughout I Corinthians 7, Paul’s preference is decidedly slanted toward singleness. (Note that this prejudice is predicated on a belief in the imminent return of Christ, however.) His strongest point in favor of being single is that it enables one to be focused solely on serving the Lord. If you’re married, decisions are a two-party process; if you’re single, you have only the Lord to consult. If you’re married, there are schedules to coordinate; if you’re single, there’s only ONE calendar. Singles have a freedom of time, emotional energy, and resources that married couples do not – time, emotional energy, and resources which they may devote to the Lord and His work.
I am thankful to have in my own family several wonderful examples of singles living full lives, both women and men, never married, divorced, or parted from their marital partner by death, who I have never seen repine over their status as singles and who have embraced the freedom of singleness to engage in ministry, formal and informal, that would have been difficult or impossible were they married. Any reading of missionary stories will likewise yield a plethora of examples. For some of these, singleness has been a deliberate choice, made early in life. For others, although they would not have objected to marriage, the opportunity just never came up. For others, it was a struggle, as they would very much like to have married. As did Paul, all of these singles grasped the understanding that both singleness and marriage are simply roles we may be called to play, and their contentment in singleness involved a willingness to accept whichever role God would call them to play: if to marry, then to marry, but if to be single, then to BE single – not consider themselves as simply in a holding pattern until “real life” – marriage – began.
Whatever roles God calls us to, His purpose for us is always the same: to conformed to the image of His Son (Romans 8:28-29.) He has promised that He has, does, and will continue to give us everything we need for this to be so. Ephesians 1:3-14 is just one passage expounding on those promises. We have been blessed with every blessing in the heavenly places, chosen before the foundation of the world, predestined for adoption, blessed with His glorious grace in the Beloved, redeemed through His blood, forgiven our trespasses, lavished with wisdom and insight that make known to us the mystery of His will. We have obtained an inheritance and been sealed with the Holy Spirit. Note not that a word of that carries a caveat, “ … – if you’re married, that is.” Roles are not our identity. Roles do not – indeed, cannot – complete us. Our completion is in Christ.
Not married? Then be “single-minded” and determine to fully exercise the completion experienced in Christ to bless the world in a way that only those with the freedom of the single can.
No one in Christ, married or single, is ever sentenced to an incomplete life.
Stop holding on
Posted on: April 22, 2016
One of my favorite descriptions of what Jesus is like is found in Isaiah 42:3: “… a bruised reed He will not break, and a faintly burning wick He will not snuff out …”
Applicable to many Christians at times in their walks, even more do these express vividly the comforting reality of the life of we Christians with mental illness.
So often in acknowledging, and even daring to express, a sense of hopelessness, we feel that we are betraying our faith. Not infrequently, this sense is compounded by the well-intentioned words of exhortation that to our desperate ears sound only as a further accusation of guilt.
It is not by our choice that our wick is burning but faintly – sometimes so faintly that even we ourselves cannot see its glow. Though all the world misunderstand, Jesus doesn’t.
In the midst of the darkness, even when our mind cannot even remember what light looks like, engulfed as we are in a whirling void of darkness, what matters is not that our wick glows but faintly – what matters is that it glows at all, and that Jesus sees it, and cherishes it.
Countless times in my dark hours, I have been exhorted to “Hang in there” or to “Hold on”. Little do those offering those sentiments realize what a burden it actually places on those of us who are so soul-weary that we are beyond even that simple action. A song released by Casting Crowns offers a beautiful line of encouragement, “ … stop holding on and just be held.” Even when we cannot hold on to Him, He holds on to us.
There comes a point when it’s ok to let go and to simply let ourselves fall into the Father’s hands. Our emotions may continue to rage, but somewhere inside, faith knows that our salvation, our security, and our peace come not from our own ability to keep our flame high, but from His tender care of our faintly burning wick.
The last couple of years have seen my wick waver a lot. In the last 6 months or so, it has sometimes sunk low. In the last month, it has not even been visible, as I have been overwhelmed by a swirl of intense events with long-lasting consequences, struggling with a sense of utter despair, seeing the tunnel grow ever longer and darker, and with the feeling that any light at the end is only a train coming the other way.
And yet my wick still glows somehow. Circumstances have not improved much, and I still look with dread on the days to come, and yet, in the midst of these howling winds, He has cupped His hand around my soul, and coaxed that smoldering ember into a tiny, dancing flame.
If you, too, are fighting the darkness, it’s alright to cease. What does it matter if the darkness thinks it has won? You haven’t fallen into darkness, you’re resting in the hands of your Father – whether you feel Him or not. Stop tiring yourself out trying to hold on.
Just let yourself be held. Maybe He’ll calm the storm around you. Maybe He won’t. Maybe He’ll give your emotions a glimpse of hope. Maybe He won’t. Our spirits are not captive to our circumstances, our emotions, or our minds. Though all externals that we see and understand be in chaos, yet our innermost selves, though they be hidden from our eyes, are at peace.
We are held by the One Who never gets weary of holding us.
Stop holding on.
Just be held.
The Monster Resurges
Posted on: March 18, 2016
There’s a commercial for some depression medicine that shows the victim being followed around and overshadowed by a large black cloud. I don’t care for most drug commercials (most commercials, period, I guess), but this one I actually like because in the “after” portrayal, where the drug is working great and the person is out living life again, the cloud is still there. It’s smaller in size, and follows along meekly and unobtrusively, but it’s there.
That’s the plain truth about mental illness. You may be able to treat it and make it manageable, but it will never go away. It will always be lurking, waiting in the wings for a cue to make another grand entrance and steal the show.
I’ve put off writing this for some time now. I probably should have written some of it last Fall. I kept hoping things would right themselves, but they haven’t, so I think it will be better write and get it over with.
Simply put, the bipolar Monster has resurged.
It could be that my head med is simply losing effectiveness; the body metabolizes all psychotropics differently over time, causing them to become less effective. However, my new med manager believes that it isn’t really the med’s fault, but that chronic stress of the last two years has sent my cortisol levels sky-high so that it is now stuck in a cycle it can’t get out of – and that the high levels of cortisol are overwhelming my head med’s ability to work as it should.
There are a multitude of factors involved in the stress. Residual effects from the year of dealing with my mom during her death from cancer. Relational difficulties in my marriage. Caregiving issues involving my cousin, and dealing with her son. My already touchy musculoskeletal issues because of my screwy spine were badly affected by a fall in September of 2013, but exercise and physical therapy for it pretty much went out the window during the year of caring for Mama; last year the injuries were compounded by other mishaps; and now the whole thing has been topped off by degenerating cervical and lumbar discs, which may (probably) mean I will never again be able to achieve the kind of physical fitness I was able to enjoy for one brief year prior to my 2013 injury. Since exercise plays a key part in helping with a number of my other health issues, losing the ability to do so as much affects them all. In addition, I have been having severe sleep issues for months now, leaving me physically exhausted.
In general, all this has meant increasing problems keeping things together. Some weeks, I am an emotional basket case, depressed and overwhelmed and scared. When it’s like that, it takes enormous amounts of energy to carry on reasonably normally with other people, leaving me emotionally exhausted. Then the switch flips, and I’m more even emotionally, and it’s not quite such an effort. But between the physical and emotional stresses, I find myself struggling with finding the motivation to do that which I know I need to or should. Often, it just takes too much energy to care.
As the Monster grows, my brain once again is like a dozen racetracks with a dozen greyhounds on each, and all chasing a dozen rabbits running loose. It is difficult to follow any one train of thought for long. I have been trying and trying to write blog posts – I have a dozen started – but I get partway through and realize that I can’t figure out where I am going with it. I have spent hour after hour re-writing and re-writing, but so far, I have gained little ground. The frustration is enormous.
Not only is my brain racing, it has no “off” switch. Ever have a night where you just can’t get to sleep because your brain is absorbed with some problem? My brain can’t shut up. Ever. My meds to help me sleep are having little effect. No matter how tired my body is, my brain is always in high gear, running this way and that. What sleep I do get is broken multiple times a night – beginning again the battle to get my brain to shut up so I can return to some semblance of sleep. When I DO sleep, I mostly dream. I have always had vivid dreams, in color, and often I remember the gist of, or much of, the contents upon waking up. Now, even when asleep, I am often dreaming that I am awake. Not uncommonly, some of my dreams are disturbing, even somewhat traumatic. When I get up in the morning, I seldom have any sense of having really slept at all – certainly not any refreshing sleep, at any rate. Chronic sleep deprivation does a real number on ya.
So, rather than playing around any further with my BP meds, the plan is to focus on other issues through other practitioners. I will see a naturopath to do some detective work and figure out what might be helpful, for the cortisol issue in highest priority, but with any other area he finds out-of-whack as well. (My case being rather extraordinarily complicated medically, it will be no simple knot to untangle!) I will be getting traction at my chiropractor’s office, as well as massage. I will be starting with a new counselor on the 23rd – the wife of the counselor Rob started seeing in January; the eventual goal is joint counseling. Hopefully it won’t take too many months to start getting things turned around – and then we can tell if I need to do anything with my head meds or not.
And in case you’re thinking none of this sounds very spiritual, be assured that no, I have not left God out of the equation, and yes, I HAVE had people pray over me and I know there are many praying on-going. But mental illness is not a spiritual problem, and unless God makes a miraculous intervention – which is possible, but not historically terribly frequent – spiritual activities such as prayer and throwing Bible verses at it don’t solve it or even make it feel better. My faith is a fact, but when the Monster has the upper hand, my faith has no meaning to my feelings. The spirit is willing, but the brain is broken. That’s the best I can explain it.
All of this is not to ask for sympathy, comments, “I’m so sorry”, “I’m praying for you” or even any particular expressed reaction at all. I don’t mean to sound ungracious, but I take all those as read from those who know me, and I DO appreciate it – but it takes energy to respond, and right now I don’t always have any to spare. (If you are a local, you don’t need to treat me like I’m fragile.) I just want to explain what’s going on and give you another glimpse into the Wonderful World of Bipolar. So if I’m less than gracious, or I’m grouchy or a bit short-tempered, or get too worked up over little things, or don’t seem to be enthusiastic about something you want me to be enthused about, or seem tired or down and gloomy, please just let it be and don’t take it personally! And if I don’t write for months, or if what I write kind of wanders around, bear with me.
It is well with my soul, but as for the rest of me, for now, the Monster has the upper hand again.
On another note
Posted on: January 31, 2016
- In: Christian relationships | Christianity | church life | faith | freedom | worship
- Leave a Comment
Long, long ago at a college far, far away I got a degree in early childhood education. The idea of learning modalities was still fairly new – the concept of there being different ways that we learn. Most of us by now are quite familiar with the basic ones: auditory, visual, and kinesthetic. For centuries, teaching meant assigning rote memorization. Kids who could memorize well were smart; kids who couldn’t were dunces. That was simply how teaching – and learning – was done. The concept that people learn in different ways, and that each of those ways is perfectly valid, brought about a sea-change in the teaching profession; yes, the concept meant that ALL kids now had a greater chance of getting to learn, but it also meant that teachers had to learn how to TEACH differently, too. It takes a lot more effort to teach every lesson in multiple ways – especially in ways that the teacher herself may not relate to.
Something similar to this concept, applied to relationships, was introduced some years ago in a book by Gary Chapman called The Five Love Languages. The idea is that each person both perceives and expresses love in one of five “languages”. One is giving gifts, one is doing acts of service, one is speaking words of praise, one is spending time, and … I forget the other. (Must not be my language!) It is not the intention of expressing love that is most critical, but whether or not the object of that love actually perceives it as such. If your language is spending time, but someone instead gives you lots of gifts, you will not feel loved. Since we all tend to express love in the way we would most like to receive it, it takes effort to learn to recognize and appreciate love being expressed in ways other than our own language. The highest expression of love is to learn to speak another’s language, foreign to us as it may be.
All of which leads me to: worship music, of course.
A few months ago, our Sunday morning service was enlivened by the participation of the Spanish-speaking church that uses our building on Sunday afternoons. We combined our worship teams, singing songs in both English and Spanish. Those of us who understand both languages had a great time singing along with heart and soul. Those in the congregation who speak only one or the other language could enjoy any of the music, but they could join their voices and their “amen” only when the words were ones they could understand. God was just as glorified by any of it – but it was not the same worship experience for all. Single-language speakers were able to be fully engaged ONLY when the singing was in their own language. They spent the service alternating between being participants and being just an audience.
There’s a difference. Perhaps sometimes when people say they don’t get anything “out of” a particular style of service, what they really mean is that they don’t feel like they are able to put anything IN to it because it’s not in their “language”, as it were. They may go about expressing that disconnect in a manner that is not helpful, but simply dismissing them isn’t the answer. We accept individuality in virtually every other area of life. Why not in worship, as well? Why are we so afraid of, or dismissive of, or angry about, the fact that not everyone finds every worship song or worship style to be something that they can be fully engaged in???
Worship is about God, it’s true – but worship is not some disembodied, amorphic activity that somehow takes place without involving the participation of the worshipper. A bow may be used to play a snare drum, but the sound will hardly compare with the rich tones that same bow will obtain when used to play a violin. Drumsticks may tap on a saxophone, but you’ll get better music by blowing into the mouthpiece. We worship most fully when we worship as God, in His infinite creativity, designed us, with all the individuality that may entail.
What if we approached corporate worship like a classroom teacher whose focus is on helping the greatest number of students understand the lesson – turning our focus to trying to enable the greatest portion possible of our congregations to have some opportunity to be fully engaged in worship? No congregation can be all things to all its members, but surely many of our congregations can do better.
It’s hard, because it means giving consideration to ALL of the “each others” in our congregations. It requires humility by all involved, because love does not demand its own way. Those in the majority need to be willing to go out of their comfort zone in order to give others some opportunity to speak their own worship language. For those in the minority, while it is perfectly appropriate to ask for an opportunity for their worship needs to be met, no matter what the answer is, they should be prepared to do whatever they can to support the majority in their worship. We thus can express our love for God – can glorify Him – can worship Him – in honoring each other’s worship language.
Paul told the believers in Rome, in chapter 14, “One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God. For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself.”
It’s all about our heart for each other. We can’t worship God in Spirit and in Truth while we’re cold-shouldering each other over whose music or style is the most God-centric or most Spirit-ual or most Truth-full.
We may worship the Lord with old traditional hymns accompanied by a single piano, or with a modern worship song consisting of two verses, a chorus, and a bridge, all repeated a dozen times, accompanied by a full rock band at volumes that could be heard over a jet engine. We may sing only Psalms, and acapella at that. We may use hymnbooks or three-story-high big screen projections. We may lift our hands and dance and clap, or we may sit sedately. There is no one “right” way to worship, but tearing each other down, and disrespecting each other’s worship language is most certainly wrong.
To God be the glory – no matter what worship we use!
“Empty” nest?
Posted on: January 2, 2016
- In: Christianity | family | freedom | intentional living | parenting
- Leave a Comment
As we turn the calendar to a new year, what are you anticipating?
Our youngest daughter is 21. Up to now, she hasn’t been in a financially secure enough position to move out on her own, but she is rapidly arriving there, so sometime in 2016, Lord willing, after 30 years, our Emancipation Day will arrive. We will join the ranks of the so-called “empty nesters”.
Being a stay-at-home mom, and especially a homeschooler, I have had people expect that this would be something hard for me. “Since you’ve always surrounded with kids, won’t you be lonely? After spending so many years with your time occupied with teaching, aren’t you worried about what you’ll do with yourself?” My answer is a laughing, but emphatic, “NO” to both questions.
I was blessed by a mother who set an example for me in this. She was always a stay-at-home mom, often essentially a single mother because my dad traveled a lot. Yet although busy with raising 5 kids, Mama always found ways to keep her own interests going. Clearing out her house after she died last year, I was struck by just how many different crafts she had undertaken through the years that confirmed her identity as an artist. She always found time to read. She always had a flower garden of some kind. She put a lot of effort into decorating the houses she lived in. Of especial importance to me as a role model, was that my mother was comfortable in her own skin and with her own company. She was “Chuck’s wife”, and “Tim/Gary/Sandy/Corey/Susie’s mom”, but she never was ONLY those things. She maintained a strong sense of self apart from anyone else.
Mama modeled an acceptance of life in each of its stages, and never repined over any season of her life. When we kids were elementary aged, she never sighed for the toddlers we were. When we were in high school, she never got wistful over our Tooth Fairy days. When we left home to go out into the world, she never wished we’d stayed home forever. When Daddy died at my house while he and Mama were visiting in 1991, she spent that night weeping and walking up and down our driveway, but by morning she had reconciled herself to her new life on her own – and was determined to fully LIVE that life. And she did, too!
Mama avoided two of the most common traps many moms fall into.
One is that they have confused their role with their identity.
Our roles are what we do; our identity is who we are. No matter how tempting it is to get our sense of self from a role we fulfill, roles were never meant to consume or define us. Roles change over time but we’ll be living with our self long after our kids are out on their own. If we keep in touch with our selves, nourish our individuality, ponder our unique purpose, and grow in our own faith, when we face a change in our role we won’t find ourselves living with a stranger.
The other trap for moms is investing all of their life in the lives of their kids, but none in their own.
At some stages, especially when our kids are very young, investing in our own life can be difficult, I know, but it is important that we do it, even if we can reserve only a tiny corner of our life for actively pursuing personal growth. This isn’t being “selfish.” Sacrificing all of our life on the altar of serving our kids does neither them nor ourselves any favors. If we can keep even a little flame burning makes it much easier to get the fire going when the opportunity arises; staying involved in our own interests as our kids grow up means that when the time comes, as it will, that we have more freedom of time, rather than feeling an empty “Now what?” we can feel an anticipation that says “At LAST!”
A few years ago, in a conversation with an older, single woman I know, we were talking about decorating for Christmas. She told me that she doesn’t bother to do it, because “there’s only me at home.” Mama decorated her house to the nines; there wasn’t a single nook or cranny in the entire house that didn’t wear a festive decoration. When I related that conversation to her, she countered, “So what if it’s just me? I consider myself worth decorating for!”
My kids may leave home. Even my spouse could leave home, one way or another. But my nest won’t be “empty” until I’M no longer in it!
Wherever your nest, may you find contentment in it, and may the new year find you filled with anticipation! God bless you all.
All in the Family
Posted on: November 15, 2015
Most of those reading this post are probably aware of the Great Starbucks Red Cup Anti-Christmas Controversy. Since coffee and I are not on speaking terms (we don’t even wave in passing), I am generally oblivious to the trends in beanland, but this one invaded my FB feed. I guess Starbucks has a tradition of having some kind of special cup for the holiday season with a holiday symbol of some kind on it, but THIS year, the chain is using just a Plain. Red. Cup. That decision to not put any kind of Christmas or holiday or even just WINTER symbol on its holiday cup apparently rattled some Christians’ cages, convincing them that this is yet another attempt to remove Christmas from the American retail scene.
I confess I rolled my eyes when I heard about I, and I wasn’t alone in the feeling of “Oh, great – another situation where Christians look like loonies!” Pretty soon came a counter-reaction not only from non-Christians but from fellow Christians as well making fun of the Christians who objected to the Plain. Red. Cup. For example, one meme had a picture of a red cup with its wrap-around insulator reading, “If your worship depends on having a snowflake on your cup, then YOU are the one who needs Jesus.” Plenty of us hit “like” or “share” on that one.
A staple of parenting comedy sketches goes something like this. “Ya ever notice, when the kid wins the award for football, Dad boasts to everyone ‘Yeah, that’s MY BOY!’, but when the kid breaks the big screen TV, suddenly Dad’s yelling at Mom, ‘Just look at what YOUR SON did today!!’?” Recently, when our pastor preached on the Prodigal Father (or Prodigal Son, as it’s more commonly known) in Luke 15, I noticed the Bible has its own version of that.
We all know the bullet points. At the end of the story, the older brother comes home and the servant tells him, “Hey, your baby brother’s home and your dad’s celebrating!” Big Bro sits on the porch and pouts. Dad comes out and pleads with him to come join the party. Big Bro says no, reminds Dad of what a scumbag Baby Bro has been, and, on the other hand, what an exemplary son HE has been and accuses Dad of not properly appreciating him. He moves on in vs. 30 to the coup de grace: “But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” Catch that? Not “my brother”. “This SON OF YOURS.” Big Bro so disowned his brother that he wouldn’t even acknowledge the relationship between them. Dad pleads with him to enter into his (the father’s) joy and rejoice that “This, YOUR BROTHER” has returned, but Big Bro will have none of it. He’d rather sit outside on the porch and wallow in being the wounded, self-righteous, Good Son than go in to a party where, instead of enjoying that lofty status, he will be one of two brothers equally beloved by their mutual father.
Now, to get back to the Red Cup Controversy. It’s a silly one, absolutely, but in the reactions it drew, I think it is illustrative of what can happen in our responses to other Christians. All too often, when one group of Christians takes a particular public stand or public action with which we disagree, especially one which we find frankly embarrassing, such as the red cup controversy, it is tempting to, like Big Bro, essentially disown our brothers and sisters. “Well, yes, I’m a Christian,” we declare, then hastily add,” – but I’m not one of THOSE Christians!” In other words, we may grudgingly acknowledge that they are sons and daughters of the Father, but we’ll be darned if we’re going to own up to them being our brothers and sisters!
Don’t think I’m speaking here as if I’m not on the guilty list! (Just look at my own reaction to the initial news of the controversy.) It is because I know myself to be so guilty that the issue bothers me. There should be plenty of room in God’s family to disagree on a wide scope of opinions and perspectives. The early church certainly had its share of differences. Figuring out just what this new freedom in Christ meant was sometimes a head-scratcher. Again and again Paul called on followers of Christ to be united – not necessarily in opinion, but always in love. He pled with Euodia and Syntyche of Philippi to agree – not with each other, but in the Lord. The issue isn’t whether or not we see everything the same. The issue is whether we truly see the whole family as the same – not only as God’s children, but as our siblings.
Even if another Christian does something that you think makes all of us look stupid, claiming that “he may be your SON, but he sure ain’t my BROTHER” is an argument that just doesn’t hold water with God.
Not even in a red cup.
Letting Not Normal Be Normal
Posted on: November 8, 2015
First, a word to all who read this blog. I started this blog mostly as a way to get all the words that kept tumbling ‘round and ‘round inside my head OUT of my head. I knew my mom would read my posts and probably share the blog with her friends, if only because her “baby” wrote it – moms are like that. I expected that some of my friends would read it because, well, they’re my friends, but I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect as to whether anyone ELSE would consider it worthwhile to read. It is validating, exhilarating, frightening and humbling to find that there are those who do. For each of you, I am grateful. If you like any post, the greatest compliment you can pay me is to share it with others, whether by FB, email, or print. (However you share it, please include the link to the blog site and my name as author.) A word of thanks also to all of you who have sent or said words of encouragement. I treasure them. If you particularly like some point, or especially if you particularly disagree with some point, or question a conclusion, please do comment. I would love for this to be more interactive and less of a monologue. Now on to the post….
A few months ago there was a letter to the editor in our local paper complaining about people in parking lots who take handicapped parking places. The writer wasn’t complaining about cars without a handicap license plate or without a placard hanging from the rearview mirror. No, she was complaining about those who HAVE those legal permissions but who “obviously” are healthy enough that they don’t NEED to use those parking places.
This isn’t a new accusation to those guilty of that “crime.” Although they are occasionally accosted directly in parking lots, more often they find themselves the recipients of dirty looks or nasty notes left on their windshield – or are the target of letters to the editor. The frustration is that heart conditions such as congestive heart failure, lung conditions such as cystic fibrosis, muscle conditions such as fibromyalgia, joint conditions such as arthritis, along with many other conditions, can result in a severe limitation on stamina qualifying a person to use handicapped parking, but none affect the physical appearance. Sometimes people end up not using the space they are legally entitled to use, no matter what it costs them physically, because they get tired of people accusing them. It’s just easier to pretend to be what people assume you are.
Recently, I have talked with both the middle school and high school youth groups at church about my journey with The Monster, from the depression that started in high school to my diagnosis with bipolar in 2010, what life has been like since and what the future likely holds. I did a FB post about having to up my bipolar meds and asking friends to please clue me in if they notice anything amiss. In all the cases, I received statements of commendation for speaking so candidly, for being “open” and “vulnerable”. I appreciate the intention of being supportive and encouraging. I do, truly.
Yet the fact that my speaking of these things is deemed to merit such note is … sad. It should not have to TAKE courage to speak up about being mentally ill. Taking head meds should require no more self-consciousness than does taking insulin. But the fact is that we mentally ill often feel that pressure to appear “normal” because we LOOK normal. We can be afraid to “confess” our not-normalness and be moved from the “us” category to the “them”.
I have a laundry list of physical problems – hypothyroid, fibromyalgia, migraines, to name just the ones readers are most likely to be familiar with. I have had 13 major surgeries, I lost count of the MRIs, CTs, X-rays and ER visits years ago. I have had a number of rare conditions pop up. If there’s a highly unlikely way to react to a drug … I’ll do it. (Do NOT tell me odds, please – my body takes it as a challenge!) I have to take a whole pile of pills a day to stay functional. I speak of these conditions without hesitation because they are my physical reality. I speak freely of my mental illness because it is just as much my physical reality.
In our society, though, this speaking of mental illness that casually is still uncommon enough that it gets noticed. Sadly, our churches are often no better than society when it comes to being places where mental illness can be disclosed and discussed with the same freedom and compassion that physical illnesses are. In some ways, churches can be even worse, because not only may mental illnesses be misunderstood, they are often misunderstood in a manner that blames the victim: to wit, if we just prayed properly, or trusted God better, or turned our troubles over to God more completely – if somehow we just did something “right”, if somehow we were better Christians, we wouldn’t be sick. It’s the ultimate betrayal of compassion.
The fact is that while mental illness PRESENTS behaviorally, it is in origin an actual physical problem. The brain is broken, wired wonky, chemically imbalanced so that certain areas of the brain are overactive while other areas are underactive. Some neurons are firing grapeshot, others blanks, while others are jammed. There are lapses in the synapses. Mental illness can no more be willed away than can diabetes. It can no more “faithed” away than ALS. One can no more reason a way out of it than one could reason a way out of anaphylactic shock. We mentally ill are generally the last to recognize what is going on with us – if we are even able to at all ; even if we are able to recognize it, we are still trapped by it. An epileptic doesn’t stop taking her medication when her seizures are under control because she is able to reason that without the medication’s influence, the seizures will return. We mentally ill may stop taking our meds once the symptoms are under control because our disease prevents us from grasping the fact that it is ONLY the medication that is keeping the disease at bay, not that WE are “better.” We are at the mercy of a disease for which there may be treatment, but for which there no cure. This is our frightening reality.
So how does a congregation foster an environment of openness where those with mental illness need not fear speaking freely about it? First, we can start with the way we deal generally with negative emotions – sadness, “the blues”, non-clinical depression, anxiety. If we are a safe place for expressing these, we will be – or can easily become – a safe place for being open about mental illness as well. We can listen without criticism and validate feelings – that is, let people feel what they feel and be honest about it. For example, say someone comes to church in a very blue phase, is asked, “Hey, how’s it going?”, and gives an honest answer. A cheery, “Oh, come on, things can’t be THAT bad!” or “Smile, Jesus loves you!” or “Just think about all the blessings God has given you!” or a recitation of the things the responder does to cheer themselves up, all these, while certainly intended for good, actually send the message “You are not allowed to be anything but happy at church” – the antithesis of openness. Responses such as, “I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling so sad”, or “That must be hard on you”, or “Then I’m extra glad you came today” sends a message that it’s ok to “come as you are.” We can go beyond assuring someone “I’m praying for you” to asking them if there is something specific we can pray about, making a very personal effort to connect. (And it certainly helps build that connection if we remember the next time we see the person to ask about that prayer item!)
Going farther, the pastor at my current church speaks frankly of his father who committed suicide twenty years ago. Pastor Brian also has had various congregation members share with the congregation their own stories of struggling with depression; as I mentioned, our youth pastor has done likewise. (I am only one of those who spoke.) THAT is fostering openness. At one church, we had a mentally ill homeless man who came regularly who sat in the front row and spent most of his time rocking rapidly into a deep bow back and forth. Sometimes he talked to himself. There were occasional complaints about him being “distracting”, and there’s no denying his activity was outside the sanctuary standard norm, but the majority of the congregation welcomed him anyway. Someone would always sit by him to calm him if his agitation reached extremes. Members would greet him by name after the service. THAT is fostering openness. One member there had a mental breakdown and spent 6 weeks hospitalized in the psych ward. When she came back, people didn’t avoid her in embarrassment, but simply welcomed her back as from any other hospitalization, with loving concern and care. THAT is fostering openness. Any time we educate ourselves so that we are prepared better for how to respond to or deal with people with mental illness, any time we acknowledge our lack of knowledge but express our desire to better understand, we are working to create an environment of openness.
When we acknowledge the reality of mental illness as matter-of-factly as we do that of physical illness we move one step closer to letting not normal be normal.
We can all be of One Mind – even if some of us are “out” of ours.
the susie solution 