This week I’ll confess to you my obsession with finding the “perfect plan” the one thing that makes me feel like I’m in control and can predict the outcome of my life, be it physically, financially or something else. I’ll confess this, explain the lie behind it and share how you can find peace when you are (as we always are) out of control.
Are you in the business of “body building”? Discover what that actually implies and the better way, the only way, to embrace your body, your fitness, your gifts–God’s gifts to you.
This link will take you to a page on Jenni Schaefer’s website, to a text excerpted from a book she co-authored called Almost Anorexic.
Welcome to Clarksville! It’s my plan to be more spontaneous with our posts again here very soon, now that life is settling into its new, “normal”.
As I peeled my heart away from Columbus, GA and the friends I’ve made there and reacquainted with, the hobbies I’ve begun, my chair at church, the park that I frequented on sunny days and the one more conducive to rainy ones–as I gently wiggled my heart like a well-stuck sticker and tried to loosen it’s adhesive, I realized something. I mean no offense to friends, but I think I grieved the loss of routine more than anything. Does that make sense?
Of course, that routine included dear ones. I am sad for the end of weekly coffee visits with Johanna, for true-southern hospitality at Nanny and Katherine’s house. I am sad for Tuesday/Thursday visits on regular floors at TMC–for smiles with Mailey, Shanna, Nancy, Barbara, Megan, Penny, Daisy, Alex and Amy and others.
But here’s what I’m learning:
God has recently been speaking to me of exposure. My favorite therapist of all time (how many people can say that?) once told me that recovery would become easier with time, that walking in freedom would become my “new normal”. Stacy explained, “When water flows down one side of a hill over and over it creates a channel and nothing will divert it, unless the water is forced down the other side of the hill enough times. Then, it will create a deeper, more compelling channel on the other side. Over time, the water will naturally flow down that opposite side.”
Stacy was right about recovery. Today, healthy feels normal and right to me. But her lesson applies to so many other aspects of life, too.
The day after we arrived in Clarksville, Brave and I ventured to the Upland Trail, their version of a riverwalk. My heart sank. The trail is less than two miles long. Our home is lovely, but it’s situated in a neighborhood with no safe places to walk the dog. There’s more traffic than I expected, no Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods or farmer’s market.
When our furniture didn’t arrive as early as I hoped, I felt my mood slipping and along with it a half dozen tears down my grimy cheeks. (Did I mention that it’s every bit as humid as Georgia? That leads to grimy cheeks quickly!)
Quietly, my Father started speaking to me about exposure.
Lord, what can that possibly have to do with me, here, now and this achy sense of loss. I have no routine here, no way to plan or expect what happens next. I have no friends to call for coffee or familiar parks to stroll. What does exposure have to do with it?
One week later, from Thursday, May 29 to Thursday, June 5, I understand. You see, in one week I’ve been exposed to spectacular Tennessee thunder storms, friendly neighbors, a new state park with a few miles of trails that emulate a rain forest. I’ve been exposed to new patterns of streets and today found my way home without the GPS. I’ve been exposed to “camping” with my husband for (too many) nights and the welcome hug of a comfy bed again. I’ve been exposed to
wide—–open—spaces that remind me of Oklahoma–ranches, farms and fields of wildflowers between every building, bridge or street. I’ve been exposed to new accents and a different version of southern hospitality. I’ve been exposed to a new side of the hill.
The course of my life has been redirected. In only seven days I’ve begun to wallow out a different bed for my stream. My life is bubbling over new stones, around mysterious curves and tumbling down unexpected bluffs.
Are you getting this?
Exposure is what makes normal. Exposure is what makes familiar and acceptable and good. How does a child know that the neighbor’s mom can’t make chocolate chip cookies? Because they don’t taste “right” like the ones that Grandma makes.
So, I’m discovering our new town, our new home and forming new habits. They will feel deliciously comfortable and right, until it’s time to move again. Then, with a gentle nudge, God will redirect the course of my life again, expose me to what only He foresees and I’ll fall in love all over again.
At 18-years-old, I stepped onto the sandy, Arizona soil in the driveway of an inpatient treatment center for the second time. Even after numerous counselors and previous inpatient treatment for anorexia, I still struggled with an addiction to exercise and food restriction. “Shipped off” to get well, I felt completely alone, unloved and abandoned by God and my family. My life didn’t appear to be “working out for good”. Circumstances seemed to belie the promises of a good God.
Many years later, my husband walked the sandy soil of Afghanistan, leading a company of infantry soldiers. Back home, I received one of the calls that every family member of a solider dreads. “We lost some.”
Patrick was the commander of Bravo Company 4/23. They had only been in theater a little over two months, when one of their strykers hit an IED (improvised explosive device) killing three men and maiming another. Hell broke loose on earth.
I watched my husband grapple with the agony and guilt of knowing he had been responsible for the men’s lives as their leader in combat. I felt like a mindless mist, moving through the motions of coordinating phone calls to the families, assisting to arrange the memorials and comforting the widows. Nothing looked like what I would expect from a good God. A few people voiced this.
“How can a good God let this happen? If God is in charge and powerful and loves us, why would He let these children lose their fathers?”
I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now. I don’t know how all this “works together for good”. I don’t know how this matches up with God’s Word, “I am the God who heals you.” I don’t know how lingering illness and addiction connects with, “It is for freedom that Christ set you free,” and “I have given you the power to tread upon snakes and scorpions and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”
God, how does this work?
If anyone ever had a right to pray that prayer, it was the apostle Paul. He spent almost six years of his ministry in a jail cell, he was whipped, shamed, ship wrecked and abandoned
(2 Corinthians 11:23-27). Finally, near the end of his life, he sat again on the cold damp concrete of a cell and wrote to the man dearest to his heart—Timothy. How desperately he wanted Timothy to be able to hang on to what Paul had taught him. He agonized over how to impress upon this young pastor:
Do not give up! Do not be dismayed by what appears to be. It may look like God has lost control, that perhaps He isn’t all that good—but Timothy—don’t give up. I haven’t. (paraphrase)
This kind of tenacious faith is exemplified in an Old Testament story:
Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego stared into the fire as flames leaped higher and higher.
“You have one more chance,” the Babylonian King told them. “You must bow down and worship my statue, or I will have you thrown into the fire.”
I wonder what raced through their minds. They had been faithful to God; they had not worshipped the idol. Surely God would rescue them! Surely, God wouldn’t allow them to be killed!
Their words in Daniel 3:16-18, teach us something amazing about faith, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego replied, ‘O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to save us. He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty. But even if he doesn’t, we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.’”
The three men believed that God could save them! But even if He didn’t…
How do we have faith when the things we believe for aren’t happening? How do we have faith that God is good when bad things happen?
Hebrews 11 is often called the Faith Chapter. It lists many heroes of the faith, men and women who believed God against all odds, who had faith in God even when it looked like God wasn’t faithful.
Verse 39 says this, “All these people earned a good reputation because of their faith, yet none of them received all that God had promised.”
Have you ever felt like that—like God hasn’t fulfilled His promises?
Have you had faith that God would do something, and then He didn’t?
Maybe you prayed that a loved one would survive cancer, but they didn’t.
Maybe you were sure it was God’s will that you find a job, or keep your job—but you didn’t.
Maybe you don’t understand what’s going on, or why God allows some things to happen.
When I feel this way, I am comforted by 2 Timothy 1:12, “That is why I am suffering here in prison. But I am not ashamed of it, for I know the one in whom I trust, and I am sure that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until the day of his return.” (emphasis added)
One weekend, my husband and I were driving through downtown Washington D.C. We were supposed to meet some friends for a baseball game, but as we wound through construction and down one-way streets, we got hopelessly lost—at least I did. I had no idea where we were going and I could see the lights of the stadium behind us. But I know my husband. He’s an incredible navigator. I knew he would get us there safely even if it looked for all the world like he was going the wrong direction. And sure enough, he got us to the baseball game on time!
You see, the secret is not what we believe. The power of our faith is not that we simply have faith, or even that we have hope. There will always be things we don’t understand and things that don’t seem to match up with what we believe about God. We may not understand what God is doing, but we have faith in who God is. We, like Paul, know who we believe, and that He is faithful.
Most world religions require faith. Most world religions have morality as their hallmark and eternal life as their goal. But, as Christians we do not merely have faith—faith in a reward for good behavior or faith in life after death. It is not mere faith that gets us through our troubles, sustains us in prison, or allows us to stand in the flames. The good news is not that you and I have faith, but that the One in whom we believe is faithful.
We are going to open the floor for questions!
Every week, I will respond to one (or more if there’s time) question here on LASTing Peace.
Pamela Black is going to help me with this, answering any questions that you would like to put to her about motherhood or growing in grace and faith.
You can ask me anything–questions about eating disorders, treatment options, addictions, faith in Jesus Christ…anything!
We are starting a Twitter conversation using the #QandApredatorylies. Also, you can leave your questions on my blog http://www.predatory-lies.com, or you can contact Pamela or myself through our Facebook pages as well.
So many options–I hope so many questions. This will be fun!
Looking forward to hearing from you.
(We will be accepting questions starting now through May 12.)
I wrote this book review a few months ago fully planning to share it with you during the Christmas season. Obviously, that opportunity is long gone, or a long ways away–depending on how you choose to look at it. All the same, I can’t believe I waited this long to post my review of the book Relentless. But then, God’s timing is never off. Perhaps He intended to remind of this message when the season of charity has passed.
I’m writing this in the season of Salvation Army Santa’s and stepped up food drives. It’s the season of renewed calls to action by every ministry, nonprofit and social service. It’s the season of year-end budgets, shortfalls and red ledgers. It’s the season we waffle between emotions of guilt due to over indulgence and smugness at our unprecedented charity. It’s a season when no one wants to hear another true story of need, or receive one more lecture about what we should do to help.
But, I actually picked up Relentless, by Dave Donaldson, completely unaware of its subject.
Relentless, begins with the transcript of a congressional address by Ron Paul, commending the author’s organization, Convoy of Hope. Before the first chapter, I was convinced that Relentless is unlike any other bleeding-heart story I’ve read. It is completely other than the typical description and advocacy of another charity. Without a celebrity spokesman or even a single heart-wrenching picture, Relentless, digs deep into the reader’s heart calling not only for awareness of the poor, asking not only for donations and volunteers, but equipping every Christ-follower with the energy, desire and resources to make difference.
I’ve read many similar books and found them frustrating. Between dramatic images and desperate prose, they seem to cultivate a condescending sympathy for the poor, rather than an empathy with those less fortunate realizing, but for the choice of the Sovereign God, I would be as destitute.
Some pleas for help seem to conjure up the same response as I might have to pictures of abused puppies and beached whales. Relentless is different. Maybe it stems from Donaldson’s own experience of poverty and charity; Donaldson does an excellent job of preserving the dignity of the poor, in fact establishing in the reader a new respect for those we can help.
There are a few distinctions that set Relentless apart from the crowd of other well-intentioned books.
First, as I mentioned, Donaldson experienced severe need and the generosity of fellow Christians. He was nine years old when his father was killed in a car wreck. Because the family had been living in a hotel while in the process of building a home, and his father had been the sole provider, overnight the remainder of their family became homeless and destitute.
Donaldson tells the story of a Christian family that took them in. The words of that father ring in his ears to this day and fuel his passion for outreach, “You are with family and this is now your home.” He tells of an incident years later when he uttered those very words to an orphan finding shelter in his home.
Relentless is filled with anecdotes that give the book a “meatier” feel than it might otherwise have. The stories are strategically placed to keep the reader engaged and to complement the dozens of statistics without drying-out the narrative.
Finally, the purpose of the book, to energize and equip “The Relentless” to impact their world, is overt. Donaldson does not merely tout his own organization, Convoy of Hope, but spends equal time pointing out the assets and successes of similar ministries.
Truthfully, I couldn’t put this book down. Far from feeling laden with guilt, Relentless left me feeling restless, empowered and determined to obey my Savior’s call, “Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” Psalm 82:3-4
Bear with me, one more conversation with C.S. Lewis. (I never tire of this man.)
Recently, I wrote a brief word study on “religion” for Swagga4Christ Ministries. Wouldn’t you know, the very next day in my C.S. Lewis Daily devotional from Bible Gateway, the sage himself wrote on the topic. So I thought I’d share our perspectives. It’s a hot, controversial topic. I’d love for you to add your voice!
Bound by Freedom
“You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.” Galatians 5:13
No one really knows where it came from. The word “religion” is kind of mysterious. For hundreds of years, scholars have debated its origin.
One opinion I stumbled upon bothered me at first. Modern scholars think it might have been derived from the Latin word ligo, meaning “bind or connect”.
I got hung up on the word “bind”. Many people today view religion that way. They feel that it binds them, constrains them to a certain list of rules. But Galatians 5:1 says that Christ set us free, so our faith must have nothing to do with being bound. However, there is a different kind of binding, of connecting. Colossians 3:14 says, “Most of all, let love guide your life, for then the whole church will stay together in perfect harmony.” The Christian faith is not merely a religion. Jesus came to bring us freedom from the law—a long list of do’s and dont’s. But it is also the love of Christ that creates harmony among believers. We must be diligent as we enjoy our freedom in Christ that we work for unity among our Christian brothers and sisters.
I remember once when I had been giving a talk to the R.A.F., an old, hard-bitten officer got up and said, ‘I’ve no use for all that stuff. But, mind you, I’m a religious man too. I know there’s a God. I’ve felt Him: out alone in the desert at night: the tremendous mystery. And that’s just why I don’t believe all your neat little dogmas and formulas about Him. To anyone who’s met the real thing they all seem so petty and pedantic and unreal!’
Now in a sense I quite agreed with that man. I think he had probably had a real experience of God in the desert. And when he turned from that experience to the Christian creeds, I think he really was turning from something real to something less real. In the same way, if a man has once looked at the Atlantic from the beach, and then goes and looks at a map of the Atlantic, he also will be turning from something real to something less real: turning from real waves to a bit of coloured paper. But here comes the point. The map is admittedly only coloured paper, but there are two things you have to remember about it. In the first place, it is based on what hundreds and thousands of people have found out by sailing the real Atlantic. In that way it has behind it masses of experience just as real as the one you could have from the beach; only, while yours would be a single glimpse, the map fits all those different experiences together. In the second place, if you want to go anywhere, the map is absolutely necessary. As long as you are content with walks on the beach, your own glimpses are far more fun than looking at a map. But the map is going to be more use than walks on the beach if you want to get to America.
From Mere Christianity
Compiled in A Year with C.S. Lewis
What do you think?
Is religion the same as faith in Christ?
Do you need Jesus to get to Heaven?
How do you experience Christ?