Highly Sensitive: A Weakness or a Gift?

Muffled sobs poured out of the boys’ bedroom. It had been years since Papaw’s death. But still the sorrow hid and crept out of my second-born at unexpected times. “I miss him, Mom. I miss him so much.” The deep feelings and sensitivities haven’t been reserved for family alone. This son of mine would tear up during storms when he thought about those on the streets with no home in which to take shelter. Deep hurt and questioning came when a friend’s mother died suddenly from Covid complications. He felt it for months, and it would come out in forms of rage and constant stress, keeping him from sleep and bringing him to tears in mere moments. And not only feelings in response to people. Noises, textures, smells—certain experiences could trigger an already overwhelmed system making it difficult for him to cope. 

I began, early on, by reacting to my son rather than responding to him. I felt out of control. I didn’t know how to help him. I would get angry at his lack of control, his big emotions that would often propel physical outbursts. But over time, God, in His kindness, helped me to see my reactions were only making things worse for all of us. I began to learn about the intricacies of the mind He had given my son. Began to understand and truly believe that if I could grow in learning my son’s bents and body and mind I might grow in appreciation and love for the way God had created him. 

As I set out on a journey to dig, learn, and discover, I came across a *book recommended to me by a friend on highly sensitive children. At the beginning of the book is a test in which you can assess if this might be an accurate title to attach to one’s child. As I was going through, checking one box after another, I came to a conclusion I didn’t expect in the least. While my son definitely had some of the characteristics of a highly sensitive child, his assessments and diagnoses led in a different direction. Yet, when I placed childhood Colette as the one being assessed, I realized I was the highly sensitive child. 

I couldn’t wear denim because of the way it felt against my skin. I thrived when I had my own room, because it was a sanctuary away from the conflict and noise of the home and school. I gravitated toward the same simple dishes for my chosen meals—pasta with butter and Parmesan, hands down. I had many friends, but only a few close, deep friendships that felt safe to me. 

Over time, I had learned to cope with my high sensitivities. Drawing away for alone time. Trying new foods, but keeping on hand my safe favorites. Epsom salt baths to calm. Exercise of hiking, walking. Meeting regularly with a friend to process things verbally and in prayer. Rhythms of Bible reading, coffee sipping, writing and praying to begin the day. 

And while I had learned ways to adjust, at the core of my created person, I am still, in many ways, a highly sensitive adult. 

Photo by u9f94 u6708u5f37 on Pexels.com

Being a lead pastor’s wife and a caregiver since covid has been a roller coaster of feelings. In so many ways, it was rewarding and life-giving to be the hands and feet of Christ to those sick, struggling, capsized under anxiety and fear. To do what I felt crafted and gifted to do. But there had also been the added weight of guiding and leading through church members struggling with decisions over masking, isolating, gathering. Conflict within the body. Members leaving. Hours spent listening to concerns, holding the hands of my tearful sisters, praying with those grieving and in seasons of depression. The additional concerns of my own children, and walking alongside my husband as he cared for others. These opportunities that usually gave me an opportunity to thrive were now becoming a load too heavy to bear. 

Over time, I began to feel as if my person could take no more. So much hurt, conflict, suffering. I felt every bit of my community’s weight. I couldn’t detach myself from it as much as I tried. I couldn’t find a way to cope. My body carried the weight, and I began a long season of illness. I knew this wasn’t sustainable. Why had God called me to this role in this time? I didn’t feel cut out for this. Wasn’t able to endure. I asked God for help and wisdom. 

I reached out to an acquaintance whom I had been told was solid in her faith, a pastor’s wife and church staff member, and one who was both tender and not easily given to hurt or overwhelm in her interactions with church members. I told her I was desiring to grow in toughness, in not letting things affect me so deeply. What was her secret? What could I do? How could I mature? Her response? 

“I..find it helpful to remember who God has made me to be including my own strengths and weaknesses. He accepts me as I am. He doesn’t need us to solve the world’s problems or to toughen up. He longs for intimate relationship with us and through that to be strengthened to do His work…I think there’s a wise balance in embracing who we are in Him and asking the Lord to refine the parts of us that He chooses to…Many times a person’s greatest strength is their greatest weakness. What you see as a need to toughen up may be the gentle, tender heart that God wants to use in someone’s life who is hardened or who just needs a meek listener. Seek to continue to be more like Him but allow Him to use you where you are.”

Was it possible that my deep feeling was actually a gift from God? Could it be that it was a support to the body, and not a lack or hindrance to His work? Her words gave me such encouragement, such help and guidance. 

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief…Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” (Isaiah 53:3a, 4a)

Jesus knew my sorrows. He was acquainted with my grief.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15-16)

Jesus sympathizes with my weakness. I can come to him for help. 

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11: 28-30)

Jesus longs to carry my load. He is gentle and lowly at His very core. He offers me help and rest. (Thank you to Dane Ortlund for driving this message home in my heart). 

As I continue to seek to understand my son, to appreciate how God has created both of us— sensitive, deep feelers and thinkers—my consistent prayer has been one Corrie ten Boom prayed all those years ago in the midst of the treacherous concentration camps under Nazi control, at the times she felt she couldn’t bear to witness and experience any more cruelty and suffering: “Heavenly Father, carry it for me!” 

Friend, my Savior is a master crafter. He has made you on purpose for a purpose, and it is good. I remind my children of that daily. Come to Him with your sorrows and weakness. See how He has uniquely created you to enjoy Him, make much of Him, depend on Him, build up the body. He will carry your burden and make much of Himself in your weakness. We must only come. 

* “The Highly Sensitive Child” by Elaine Aron

The Song of the Wild Things

I want to get back to oversized skirts and momma's high heels
When hearing your stories was all I needed to sing
To the days I didn't question your bigness and love
But right now, these old eyes can't see clearly the stars

All I can see is a blur

I keep hoping these wild things will sing me the truths
I'm holding to tightly, yet don't feel
I'm looking at these colors, these rusts, greys and blues

But it's like my own eyes just can't see

Take me back to the princes and horses and swords
When the battle was worth it and won
I want the heart of that child who danced in the front
With only her joy on her mind

With only her joy on her mind

I know you are the joy my soul has always known
But my thoughts keep fogging the view
I keep blinking my eyes to clear up the skies
But those stars are all a blur to me now

The stars aren't as clear as they used to be

I'm clinging to truths with all that I am,
Hoping in time they'll sink through
But right now, as I'm clinging, I wish I was feeling
I need you to clear up those truths

I need you to sing me those truths

Sing me the song of these wild things-- 
The brook and the rocks and the leaves
They all point to you, and I know this is true
I need you to sing to my soul

Clear up my eyes and clear up my heart
God, help me to trust who you are
Sing me the song of these wild, wild things
I don't want to get it all wrong

I want to sing your song

Everything in me is longing for more
I'm feeling this life is so short
I'm digging for meaning, but hitting the stone
O, how I long to be alive

How I long for that childlike faith
To dance and to sing in the night
To twirl on my toes and tell all those jokes
To know who you were, and it didn't matter who I was

The days when I knew you, and it didn't matter who I was

So I'll sit here in the midst of these wild things
I'll sit until my mind quiets down
I'll listen for your song and I'll pray for the clearing
Lord, help me to rest in your love

These wild things sing of your love

I'm a child in the arms of The Love

The God Who Sees

Last night, I came down with a bad headache and sore throat. By 8:30, I was ready for bed, just very tired. Fear immediately set in. I’m finally getting it. What are we going to do now? Who is going to care for Nathan? For the kids? I took my vitamins with a bunch of water, ate some ginger, popped the heating pad in the microwave and prayed. I asked God to help my body fight this off. To bring healing no matter what the cause was. I asked for His help to trust Him no matter what the answer was.

This morning I woke up to no pain. No headache, no sore throat. Only minor congestion.

This past ten days of Nathan battling Covid has been a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, challenges and joys. I’ve gone back and forth between incredible gratitude for our friends’ and family’s unwavering support to feeling alone and spent. From supernatural peace to anxiety and fear.

I’ve been walking through the Bible chronologically. And this theme has moved me that I had never noticed before: God seeing women who were afflicted, barren, abused, unloved, suffering. Over and over again, the Bible says that God saw them, He heard them, and He blessed them. He doesn’t always rescue them out of their struggles; in fact, He often tells them to return to or remain in the hardship. But He does see, and He either promises His presence or His blessing and help. (Read in Genesis about Sarah, Hagar, Leah, Rachel).

I’m so very thankful for each person who has called, texted, sent money, picked up “just because” treats and cooked food. For each person who has listened, prayed, offered encouragement. Friends that stood masked at a distance and let me cry. You remind me that God sees.

And when I begin to believe the lies that I’m alone in this season, that no one can know the inward battles or emotional weight I bear, I have His word to remind me He has been in the business of seeing and blessing since time began. I have truth to fight the lies. And the sweet comfort that He still sees, He still cares, that His presence is enough to keep me going.

To the One Who Overcomes

I sat down with Judy’s large, extensive, NASB inductive study Bible. After she died, I had the opportunity to pick from her books, some of her journals, her Bibles and study materials. Today I was at a low point spiritually, emotionally and physically and longing for some wise word from her. From the Lord. I passed through the pages seeing what she had studied, notes she had taken. Tears filled my eyes as I ran my fingers over her cursive writings. I saw Revelation was quite marked up. I knew Judy loved the study of end times. I flipped to Revelation 2:

“To the one who overcomes, I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.” 

Judy had marked “overcome” throughout the text. 

Overcome. What I wanted to do, I really wanted to do. But I felt like I was lacking the strength to do any more overcoming. And, yet, I’m reading here the promises given to the one who overcomes. 

“…he who overcomes shall not be hurt by the second death.” (2:11)

“…to him who overcomes, to him I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone which no one knows…” (2:17)

“And he who overcomes, and he who keeps My deeds until the end, to him I will give authority over the nations…” (2:26)

“He who overcomes shall thus be clothed in white garments; and I will not erase his name from the book of life, and I will confess his name before My Father, and before His angels.” (3:5)

Judy wrote here, “Once saved always saved?”

I interpreted that to be asking, “What does this mean? I thought we didn’t earn our salvation, that we couldn’t lose it? So how do I read this and think rightly in line with the whole of scripture? If I don’t overcome this temptation, this hardship, this persecution, will my name be erased from the book of life?”

A quick Bible search of “overcome” led me to Jesus speaking in John 16. 

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (16:33)

Jesus overcame. 

“For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” (1 John 4:4-5)

We overcome simply and only through faith. Faith in Jesus. In His overcoming. We can never press on enough; our strength will fail. We will lose the energy to keep going. And, yet, we will overcome by the blood of the Lamb. 

The funny thing to me is that I need Holy-Spirit-help to even have faith. I can’t muster up enough faith in Jesus. And, honestly, at this point I’m even feeling a lack of belief. But true Christ-followers, those who have been redeemed have that gift, that grace, the indwelling Holy Spirit who enables us to live out that to which we have been called. It’s not by our works that we overcome. We can’t do enough overcoming to be saved, to keep our names in the book of life. But it is through faith in Jesus’ overcoming that we have eternal victory. He has overcome on our behalf. And in this I take heart. 

It wasn’t Judy’s wisdom, necessarily, that brought me consolation, but it was her questioning and her study of and reliance on God’s word. 

Lord, help me to rely on your overcoming to press on. Help me to not lose heart by the trials of today. Bring peace and hope to my soul because of the victory you have accomplished on my behalf. 

---

Afflicted saint, to Christ draw near,
Your Savior’s gracious promise hear;
His faithful Word you can believe:
That as your days your strength shall be.

Your faith is weak, your foes are strong,
And if the conflict should be long,
The Lord will make the tempter flee
That as your days your strength shall be.

So, sing with joy, afflicted one;
The battle’s fierce, but the victory’s won!
God shall supply all that you need;
Yes, as your days your strength shall be.

Should persecution rage and flame,
Still trust in your Redeemer’s name.
In fiery trials you shall see
That as your days your strength shall be.

When called to bear your weighty cross
Or sore affliction, pain, or loss,
Or deep distress or poverty,
Still as your days your strength shall be.

Original words: John Fawcett (1782), additional words: Constance Dever. Music: Constance Dever. © 2018 Praise Factory Music (ASCAP)/Sovereign Grace Worship (ASCAP) Sovereign Grace Music, a division of Sovereign Grace Churches. All rights reserved. Administrated worldwide at http://www.CapitolCMGPublishing.com, excluding the UK which is adm. by Integrity Music, part of the David C Cook family. http://www.SovereignGraceMusic.org

Pedaling by His Grace

I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was 20 years old. Yep. 20. My brave, kind, compassionate husband, fiancé at the time, decided he would teach me. Let me preface this by saying I hate failing. I typically will not attempt to do anything that I may have a possibility of bombing. Just won’t even put the floaties on. So, there’s that. He showed me the parts of the bike. What controlled what. How I would get started. What not to do. And then, with heart pumping and legs shaking, I mounted the bike. I don’t remember much of what transpired after that moment. Except how I felt. Angry. Frustrated. Stupid. Scratched up. Nathan stayed calm and tried to keep things light. I eventually figured it out. Somewhat. Enough to say I could do it. Then, with tears in my eyes, I said I was done. That was enough. 

Fast forward to corona days. I wonder if a lot of us don’t feel like a 45-year-old trying to learn how to ride a bike for the first time. Except this time, we don’t have anyone to teach us. We keep mounting the bike, placing our feet on the pedals, only to fall to the asphalt and scrape both our knees. And our elbows. And it’s only 6:30am. We have these expectations of how our days should go. Meetings accomplished, kids schooled, house picked up. We’re supposed to have all this time to make decadent meals and frolic through the neighborhood hand-in-hand with grateful kiddos. Movies and popcorn (homemade) and giggles and high-fives. Soaring through the streets, riding our bike with one hand and eyes closed. 

But instead, we’re met with sibling bickering, broken glasses, dog hair gathering in the corners, hurt feelings, and tearful encounters. Bloodied hands and discouraged spirits. 

Although we haven’t been here before—in the midst of a global pandemic that has called life to slow in some ways and quicken in others—we have a God who foreknew this would come. A faithful God whose presence He promises to His beloved. Whose Spirit fills us and helps us to live out that which He has called us to. 

You know what’s most important? It’s not making this time a success for everyone in our homes. Who even knows what that success is or would look like? What’s most important is that we lean into a gracious and compassionate God. That we realize we need Him. That when we reach those 6:30am moments of desperation, we fall to our knees and cry out to Him. That we run to His word to renew our minds before the events of the day even transpire, and that we seek Him throughout our day. Moment by moment, listening to Him for guidance. Repenting when we fail, receiving His forgiveness. Getting back on the bike again. And telling the world we’ve nothing good apart from Him. 

I’m still shaky on my bike. Quite honestly, it’s not a very fun experience for me. Yet, each time I place my feet onto the wheels, I’m reminded of my humanness. I’m brought to humility. Perhaps we could say these not-so-fun circumstances are bringing us to a place we were never willing to go on our own. A place where we know we can’t go on without Him. Helmets on. Pedaling by His grace. 

To the Church Universal

I shared this with our church family this week in light of the COVID-19 pandemic and hope it will serve as an encouragement to you in this new season as well.

Potential Struggles:

-For those living alone and restricted of their usual gathering and contact points, loneliness can be greatly impacting them at this time. This can lead to intense feelings of isolation and depression.

-In houses with more than one person, you have multiple individuals struggling through discouragement, fear, anxiety, worry. This manifests in lack of sleep, illness, irritability and anger, short tempers and meltdowns.

-Our healthcare workers are laboring through 50-hour work weeks at best, and overwhelmed with their own exhaustion while navigating protocol and carrying the burdens and cares and fears of their patients.

-We’re all struggling through these changes that took place so quickly—disappointment over events being canceled, family visits postponed, school online or at home, the possibility of losing one’s job or retirement, and fears of ourselves or loved ones catching this virus.

-And with that, we’re lacking the regular rhythm of coming together. All of a sudden, the consistent gathering that Hebrews 10 exhorts us to not forsake cannot legally happen for the sake of health and wellness. The accountability and encouragement and reminder of the gospel can’t happen in the normal ways we’ve grown accustomed to.

So how do we then respond?

1. We must run to God’s word every day. Make this the one priority of our day. For many of us, this is going to look like getting up early because our normal times of quiet or alone time have been eliminated. We’ve got to remind ourselves of truth. Remind ourselves of who God is and receive the gift of His piercing word so that we might see our sin, confess it, and strive toward right living during this time. We need God’s word to lift our eyes from our present circumstances to our Ever-Faithful Father.

2. We must show grace to one another. Leave space to have feelings. Grieve what has been lost. But also remember who God is. Show understanding as we seek to move forward in this new and unprecedented season. Ask good questions and really listen to the feelings of others. This is where meditating on God’s word comes into play. We will not have the energy to muster up compassion day by day. We must return to the well, draw from His waters. Remember, the very power that raised Christ from the dead lives in us. The Holy Spirit lives within to live out what God has called us to. He will surely do it (1 Thessalonians 5:24).

3. Get creative for meeting together, but meet together. Coming together is going to look different now than before. It may be frustrating as we navigate technology and try out new avenues for communication. Don’t give up. Facetime, text, call, email, send handwritten letters. Press on through the newness and the challenges for the sake of building up the body.

4. Give generously. Care for your neighbors. Join the Nextdoor forum for your neighborhood and see what needs are present. Go to the grocery store for someone in isolation. Share your toilet paper. Check in on those in the high-risk category around you. Support the church—keep giving and finding ways to serve. Call your parents and grandparents. Be the hands and feet of Jesus through this time.

---

Church, this is a new season for us all. It’s vital we see potential struggles and sins and seek to continue coming together in ways that are safe and beneficial to our communities. Remain planted in truth. Hear truth, receive truth, pray truth, speak truth. Live out your hope to those around you drowning in fear. Be carriers of peace.

Grieving Her Good

Coveting is marked by comparison and entitlement. Look where you’re comparing your life with others, grieving the good that has come to them, and you’ll quickly see where a longing has turned covetous. 

I sat on my couch in quiet tears as I listened to Melissa Kruger define covetousness. All in one moment, I knew the source of my burden. So many months of anxiety uprooted and exposed. 

For some time, I had the feeling of being burnt out. Exhausted. Stressed. I was short with my family. Restless at night. Irritable and easily frustrated. I chalked it up to the many needs that screamed to be met. Homeschooling and parenting four, a husband pastor that needed my support, my role in various ministries, women in my life experiencing immense suffering and discouragement, neighbors hungry for the gospel. I truly enjoyed showing up for people. Praying for them and seeking to help in practical and loving ways. But lately, when new people came into my life, new needs presented themselves, new texts came through requesting prayer or attention, I, putting it quite frankly, freaked out. Why was something in which I typically found great joy causing great anxiety? 

Upon the gentle and encouraging advice of fellow women in ministry, I set up boundaries. Attempted to focus on the needs right in front of me and sought God for wisdom to know what to give attention to. I stopped trying to respond instantly to every call and text. I learned it’s okay to wait. Sometimes we love best by being slow to respond. 

This was hard for me, but I felt I was making progress toward becoming healthier in my service. While I didn’t know it at the time, God still had some massive uprooting that needed to take place. Sin patterns that penetrated deeply and had anchored in my heart over time. 

I’ve been leading a group of women through Kruger’s study on contentment. We had gone through a few weeks of defining contentment and discussing what it is and what it’s not. Then we came to the lesson on the enemy of contentment—covetousness. 

Kruger defines coveting as “an inordinate or culpable desire to possess often that which belongs to another”. Coveting is an umbrella term that encompasses envy, greed and lust in areas of romantic relationships, family and friend relationships, seasons and circumstances and giftedness and abilities. It’s not just limited to money and physical possessions. 

The Westminster Catechism answers which sins the commandment to not covet forbids: “The tenth commandment forbiddeth all discontentment with our own estate, envying or grieving at the good of our neighbor, and all inordinate motions and affections to anything that is his.”

Kruger explained our neighbor is essentially who we can “see”, and who we can see now has dramatically increased with the addition of social media to our society. If we want to assess where our hearts have turned from just longing for something to actual covetousness, we can ask ourselves, “What good did I see come to my neighbor, and instead of rejoicing with her, I envied and grieved that good?”

In a moment, my mind was flooded with all the times I had been deeply hurt or frustrated when my helping of others was not received well or responded to with flamboyant gratitude and applaud. I thought of the times I heard or read how other people had shown up well. The times others’ meals or advice or babysitting or financial help was praised and made a significant difference in someone’s life. I wanted to be the one that made the most impact, listened most intently, communicated the most love. The helpfulness of others grieved me. 

I wrote to a friend, “…the Lord helped me see that my disappointment in my helping others is largely due to my coveting of others’ helpfulness. I see the way other women show up and provide and care in ways better than me or when it’s received better. And it really stings. I see myself anxious to try harder, show up more, get more creative. My pride, my own perfection in helping, seems to be what motivates me so much of the time. So when it doesn’t go well, I become discouraged because it was so much about me.”

It was as if the Lord so gently peeled away the layers of my stress and frustration to reveal the true source—the sin of covetousness that had gone unnoticed and undefined for so long.

While I believe Satan would have loved this to turn to guilt and shame and isolation, God brought in healing and hope. I confessed this to the Lord, asked His forgiveness and help to bring true repentance, and I received His grace. Grace abundant. I felt His freedom—a freedom only He could give. The exposure of my sin didn’t bring death. It brought life, hope, healing. Rest. It wasn’t my job to help everyone. It wasn’t even my job to discern what was the best help for those in my life. My role was simply to allow the Lord to lead and follow in obedience. It was all about loving Him and loving people. Praise God for the gift of His Son on the cross. To bear my sin, to defeat death and bring life. 

Friends, do you find yourself often anxious? Bitter? Discontent with your lot in life? Where everything good that comes your way seems to taste only sour? It might be helpful to ask, “Where do I find myself so often comparing my life to others? In what ways am I grieving at the good that comes to my neighbor?” 

“Coveting is a begetting sin, and it is dangerous. Coveting robs us of life and robs us of contentment.” Ask God’s help to see your sin. Lay it at His feet, and find hope and rest that can only come from Him. 

Choosing Death. Choosing Reliance.

I read about men and women being stripped of their skin and still praising our Savior. Those having their tongues cut out, and still raising their hands in adoration. They trust the goodness of their God even in the face of immense persecution and absolute pain. They rely on the help of the Holy Spirit to see with eternity’s eyes what’s really at hand. They cling to His power to finish the race in obedience and faith. 

I have not recently, nor ever, risked death or agony or the loss of all I love for Jesus’ name. 

But I have known what it means to fully rely upon the help of the Holy Spirit when you feel you have nothing left to give. 

When my husband is hurting, and the wrong that has been done him overwhelms. To swallow my “Look at all I’ve been doing for you!!” knowing I need to strive to really hear him and ask God to convict me of my own sin. When his words pierce because they’re not based on what I see as truth. But I know it’s how he feels. When my flesh just wants to clear myself of all wrong and tell him he’s believing lies. Listening, hearing, understanding. That takes Holy Spirit power. To breathe out my default and breathe in the sacrifice of self. 

When my kids are being trained. When we have to have the very same conversations over and over and over again with no sure hope of them getting it this time. When I have to choke down my anger when all I want to do is yell and tell them how dumb they’re being. My flesh wants to blow up, but I know I must respond in tenderness, firmness and grace. That takes Holy Spirit intercession. To breathe out the frustration and exhaustion and breathe in the peace that passes all understanding. 

Moment by moment. Choosing to take up my cross. Rely upon Him. 

It’s the day-to-day relationships, the dying of selfish gain, the surrendering of my expectations and hopes where I find my crossroads. The true test of my faith. “Will you step out in obedience? Will you choose to do what’s right, even when you feel you’ve lost all strength to do so? Will you rely upon Me fully, knowing I raised Christ from the dead, and I now live within you?”

Lord, remind me that your power resides within. Help me choose life by choosing the death of my selfishness. The death of my default. May I find great victory by the Holy Spirit within. For your glory alone. Amen.

Leaving the Platform in Pursuit of the Table

“How do you do it? How do you find that balance between family and children and bed times and cleaning and hospitality?”

My genuine, simplified response was, “I don’t.”

About a year ago, I stepped mostly away from Facebook. It was pretty much the only online community of which I was an active member. I found great joy sharing my struggles, my joys, the hilariously honest accounts of life with four young children. Mothering as I struggled to find my identity, choosing my husband and our marriage when it meant dying to self, homeschooling, natural health. I found community in these Facebook friends. Likemindedness, fist bumps, “yeh, me, too’s”.

But something there was lacking.

Welcomed Otherness.

My friends, the groups I was a part of, the discussions I chose to join, we all shared common views, struggles, faith, or birth choices. And a big chunk of my attention, time, and thoughts was fully given to this group of Same. When there was “discussion”, it typically became heated and nasty and hate-filled, with little regard for the other’s story or background or experiences. Personhood was largely ignored, and one’s ideas alone were made the source of either praise or persecution.

So, in my concern, I left behind the platform in search of the table.

I knew the table offered a vital component that social media was lacking. People, in the flesh, present. Sitting side-by-side, gathered round a strategically cut and once smoothed piece of wood, indulging in a shared meal, asking questions and actually listening. The table offers the opportunity to see one’s facial expressions. To hear one’s inflection of voice. To discern what moves and frustrates and brings joy to another.

It’s been a learning process, yet a joy for me to intentionally invite and welcome in the Same, the Somewhat Different, and the Stark Opposite. To gather and eat and share and hear.

But “there’s always something to be lost around a table. Always something to be suffered,” my obviously wise husband replied to our dear friend upon my moderately  unhelpful remark. “Your grocery budget. Your time. Your space. Your children’s bedtime.”

And this, dear friends, is when the gospel, the good news of Jesus, changes the game.

Humankind began in the garden, in full fellowship and joyful community with God. But man chose to despise God’s good command, and sin entered the world. A sentence of death. A sinful mankind could no longer have perfect, unhindered fellowship with a holy God. But God. He sent His Son, Jesus, in human flesh, to a dying world because of the great love He has for us. Jesus lived a sinless life, died a sinner’s death, but defeated death and rose again. Because of Christ’s blood poured out and through repentance of sin and belief in His death and resurrection, we can once again come into complete fellowship with our Creator God. We can join Him at the table. But there’s always something to be suffered.

Your very life.

Christ followers have died to self and received eternal life through Jesus. He gave His life as a ransom for our own. Nothing could compel us to sacrifice for another as the knowledge of Christ’s life for us–unworthy, sinful, other.

We’ve been brought to the table. And so we open our home and our time and our bank account because we’ve so graciously been welcomed, too. Some things lost, yes. Yet so much gained.

It’s typically not pretty. It’s chaotic and messy and sometimes loud and awkward. But it’s beautifully worth it to gather. These groups of Same, Somewhat Different, and Stark Opposites, sharing stories and struggles and silly jokes. Doubts and differing views welcomed.

I don’t think I’ll ever find a balance. A perfect rhythm of mothering and hospitality. But whatever gain I could have from that balance, “I count it all as loss,” as Paul wrote in his letter to the church in Philippi, “because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ ⁹ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— ¹⁰ that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, ¹¹ that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

Hope When Anger Cripples

Our 12th anniversary. My husband surprised me with a lavish massage, Thai dinner, and weekend away to rest and enjoy one another. The weather was perfect, the laughter contagious, and I finally felt like I could breathe deeply. I was dancing in a ray of God-given sunshine.

And then, we picked up our four young kids and returned to the daily life of dishes, laundry, homeschool, messes, attitude and activities. Within hours, maybe minutes, of being back at home, my impatience, yelling, discouragement and overwhelm clouded out any encouragement I had gained from our few days of blessed rest.

So quick a change. So drastic.

I felt like I was crippling my children. Causing them to be scared into obedience. I knew it was awful. Reaping the temporary result I wanted while purchasing a future I never fathomed them to endure.

Huddled in a pile of tears and deep thoughts, I felt stuck. Really stuck. I knew something had to change.

This is nothing new to me. I’ve been dealing with discouragement and fits of anger and rage since we began having children ten years ago. So I’m not here writing like I’ve figured it all out. That the struggle is over. But I wanted to list out a handful of questions I take myself through or discuss with a Christ-believing friend. Because staying angry and lashing out at our kids is not okay. There is grace when we fail–grace abundant for those who are in Christ Jesus. But we have been saved to walk in NEW LIFE! The very power that raised Christ from the dead lives within us. We must repent and seek to live as God calls us to live. He has made a way!

If you find yourself in a cycle of anger, pray, pray, pray. Ask God for wisdom and help. Then seek out a trusted friend or mentor and walk through these evaluating questions–perhaps they might help to shed some light and bring hope and healing.

1. What am I believing?
   1. The Apostle Paul makes it clear in his letters of the New Testament that right thinking leads to right living for the redeemed. So if we find ourselves living in an unholy way, we are likely believing falsities. It’s crucial we ask ourselves what it is we are believing that is leading to these angry outbursts.
2. Am I taking care of my health?
   1. Have I been eating well?
   2. Does my daily routine include exercise?
   3. Am I getting sufficient sleep?
   4. Do I need to see a healthcare provider?
3. Have I taken time lately to recharge away from the routine of daily life? Do I have a plan to care for my emotional and spiritual well being?
4. What do I find beautiful and inspiring? Have I been integrating that at home?
5. Am I an active member of a local church? Do I currently have others I can readily confess to, confide in, and seek encouragement from? Are others praying for me?
6. Am I spending time with God through prayer and studying His word regularly?
   1. Meditating on God’s word is crucial to moving our gaze from the present circumstance to the eternal. We will never have a right and lofty view of God apart from reading His word and growing in the knowledge of who He really is.

Friend, you are not alone in this struggle. I’m not here to tell you, “It’s okay–we all do it.” Anger and rage apart from the righteous anger of God is sin. But there is grace–grace sufficient to cover you and cover your children’s future. And there is hope. Hope through the indwelling Holy Spirit. Hope through the Blood of Lamb. Cry out to Him! Cling to His mighty right hand!

 

---

“But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” Psalm 86:15