The Measuring of a Year

This past year I have had significant events in my life. A dear friend moved out of state, a long way out of state. I never get to see her anymore and it’s left a void. Some serious instability from bipolar wreaked havoc for several months. Work has been very stressful and demanding with a hiring freeze that has left us shorthanded and having to pick up the slack.

I know I am not alone in feeling the effects of the personal events of the past year. Some have had to cope with major illness, some have lost loved ones, and some have lost jobs. The list could go on. This past year has been difficult for many and knowing how to view it all is unclear sometimes.

Some people tend to look at their lives through a distorted lens and only see what went wrong, the bad events, the failures, the loss. It’s easy to miss the good when so much bad has happened, and understandably so. But there can be a pattern of seeing only the negative rather than the positive, to judge our lives by what is lacking rather than what we have and the potential that is present. I will admit I can be one of those. But in order to correctly assess this past year, I need to see with a lens that allows clear vision, undistorted by past sins and failures.

The only means I can use to correctly assess my life is the one God has given, the Bible. It is an accurate measuring stick by which I am able to determine whether or not my life was well lived this past year. But even beyond that, the Holy Spirit provides the insight and the comfort, because both are needed. Only God can see clearly to judge our lives rightly. How we measure up for this past year is really best left to his determination. While he may chasten, more often than not he comforts us because we are often harder on ourselves than he. His expectations are realistic.

God understands the weaknesses I have, he knows the circumstances that I have faced and challenged me this past year. He is very aware of my failures, yes, but he is equally aware of my successes and rejoices in them. I can rest in the knowledge that he will judge my days fairly and help me be ready for the coming year. Regardless of this past year’s mistakes and stumbling, regardless of what difficulties I may currently face in my life, his Spirit is daily keeping me moving ahead into another year of possibilities. Hope is found in him for the erasing of past sins and hope is found in him for the future.

A new year is coming and I know that the tradition of making resolutions is pressing, but this year I will let life unfold and allow the Spirit to do his work in me. Whether I find good in the coming year or pain, in either one God will be present and in that I can take comfort.

The True Meaning of Christmas

It is Christmas Day and all around the world, families are gathered to share in gift giving and special meals, of time together as they celebrate the day. But I am reminded that there are many who are alone today, many who are homeless, and some who cannot give gifts because they are too poor. And there are those who cannot celebrate openly because of persecution.

Some cannot celebrate because of anguish of heart and mind. The joys of the season are lost on them because they are too depressed or suffer from another form of mental illness. They are those whose lives are tenuous at best, who have lost all hope of a life that is free of pain, a terrible kind of pain that isn’t fixed with a band-aid. For them, Christmas is not a time of peace on earth, goodwill toward all.

Some have awakened to the same hunger pangs they went to sleep with. They struggle for water and shelter along with the relentless striving for enough food to stay alive, to feed children whose bellies are swollen from endless deprivation. There are children raising children because their parents are dead from AIDS, or because they are caught up in the lifestyle of poverty and gangs and meaningless living.

Not everyone is celebrating the birth of Christ today.

In the midst of the tearing of wrapping paper and the carving of hams and turkeys, set aside time to remember those members of humanity who suffer today for a myriad of reasons. Take a moment to remember them in prayer and thank God for the blessings of the day, then consider how you will spend your days in the coming year. For me? It will be to spend less time thinking of me and more time thinking of others, and then to match those thoughts with actions.

Today, I celebrate the birth of the Savior along with millions around the world and I pray that his life in me will not be in vain. That just as his birth was the beginning of a new age for the world, it will also be the beginning of a new attitude in me: that I have the same heart for the lost and hurting of the world as him. It’s what Christmas is all about.

Loving Wounded Souls

I am counting down the days to Christmas, less than a week now. I’ve managed to get my shopping done, all of it online so I did not have to go out into crowds. I do not do well in crowds of people. I have my husband go with me to the grocery store because I find it very stressful. I was once trapped in the middle of an extremely large crowd in a way that I would have been trampled to death if something happened. It was so tight that I was literally lifted off my feet and moving wherever the crowed moved. I had a panic attack and have never been able to do crowds every since.

Why that story? It’s an experience of trauma that has affected me in a negative way, in a long lasting way. Some may think I should just get over it. Believe me, I have tried, but it just stays with me and I’m not sure I will ever get over it. But it’s a minor trauma in comparison to other events in people’s lives which have life long, life changing effect.

I know a few women who were sexually abused and one who was raped. That kind of trauma doesn’t just go away with time. It never is healed in a way that takes all fear out of their hearts and minds. It has forever changed them. Those who have served in the military, been in wars and seen terrible things have those memories haunting them all their lives. Some cope better than others. They all are never the same as they were before the experience. It has life long effect.

There are no easy fixes for such brokenness. There is no magic wand to wave over wounded people, no pep talk able to lift their spirits, no human formulated balm for their scars. But there is the way of love, gentle sweet love that penetrates to the deepest places of pain, though it may take a very long time to reach those places. That is where human kindness and grace comes into play.

Those who’ve never experienced terrible wounding events are sometimes impatient with the walking wounded. They expect them to get over it and get on with their lives. That short sighted attitude just adds to the pain of those who have been traumatized. I know with some other more serious wounding in my life, I’ve been told that if I just had more faith I’d be healed. Instead of comforting me, it made me feel like I was a failure as a Christian and actually made God seem impatient with me as well. It just added to my pain.

The fact is God is infinitely patient with us, and tender toward those who hurt and are beyond the healing efforts of humans. He sees the deepest place in the heart and gently pours love and grace on the wounds. He knows it could take a lifetime, but he’s patient knowing in the end, there will be peace.

Christians need to do the same in their dealings with the wounded. Not pressuring, not admonishing, not trivializing. Just patiently allowing God to do what he does best and extending grace upon grace. God’s .loving kindness is to be shown in the actions of those who claim the name of Christ. So let God’s love lead to patience and tender heartedness, because your actions and your words make all the difference in the world to the wounded.

All is Well and Ends Well

It’s getting closer to Christmas and I can feel the depression coming on. Each year I slide into depression around the holidays and I really don’t know why. It used to be terrible. At one time I would get suicidal. Thankfully, I’ve not had those feelings for a while, due to the medication I now take. Nonetheless, every year I get really down.

I know my depression affects those around me adversely. I am not motivated, I tend to cry, though I hide that. I get irritable, and I sleep poorly in spite of the drugs I take to counter it, which only exacerbates everything. All in all, I am not a fun person to be around.

The only thing beyond medications that keeps me from getting worse like I used to is my faith in a God who knows me thoroughly and understands what I do not. His unending love never wanes just because I am depressed. He loves me no matter where I am emotionally. He knows the reasons and he understands the bipolar disorder I live with. And if my faith lessens because of the depression, he holds me tighter in his strong gentle hands. He will not let go.

My vision is dimmed right now, but I can make out a manger with a babe in it and it does bring some comfort. I know I am not forgotten or judged and pushed away. I may have a hard time getting into things right now, but that doesn’t matter one bit to God. All he cares about is my heart and how heavy it can get sometimes. He reminds me of Psalm 23 and the hope that is found there. I will read it and I will pray it and hope its words will sink in. The sadness will lift eventually, and I hope to get back on track. Until then I will remember his love for me and let it keep me because I am unable to do more.

'Tis the Season

Thanksgiving is over and now the retailers have told us it’s time to begin celebrating Christmas in earnest by shopping and spending money in their stores. Actually, now they are starting in October. If that sounds a little cynical, well it is. Each year when Advent begins I have a hard time getting into the spirit of things because of the increasing commercialization of the season that’s everywhere. It’s inescapable.

In the middle ages, Christmas was considered a holy day that was celebrated as the Christ Mass, and a special feast was enjoyed with gifts of food from the gentry to the serfs who worked their lands. It was a simple celebration of the coming of Christ into the world. It feels like we’ve lost sight of the simplicity of the season with crowding it with compulsory programs, special events, and pressured over spending.

This year, I’m going to do whatever I can to avoid the demands of the season that feel like they are not in keeping with the holy day that is coming. I want to capture the feeling of joy and peace in hope of the life that was gifted to us when Jesus was not yet a man carrying a cross; to know the babe in the manger born in lowly circumstances, and greet him with a humble heart.

I know others feel as I do and I sincerely hope that they will find what they seek as well. This year in the midst of tinsel and a Santa Claus in every shopping mall, I will see a crude stable and a young mother facing an unknown future with the child of promise in her arms. It’s my hope that the vision of this will lead me to a place of quiet, gentle celebration of his birth, so that as I gather with family the thought of it will keep all in proper perspective, and Christmas joy will be the natural outcome.

Every Good Gift

This weekend I am in Arkansas to play guitar for a wedding. This is something I have done multiple times over the years. I enjoy doing it for my family, though I battle nervousness. When I arrived at the rehearsal, I discovered that a string quartet was accompanying me. It was a delightful surprise. I’ve never had anything like this before and it will make a real difference with the music.

Life is like that. We go along doing what is familiar to us and suddenly there is a delightful surprise from God. It always amazes me when God’s gifts arrive unannounced. In the midst of the mundane, something special happens. Sometimes it’s the answer to a prayer that comes in a form we were not expecting. And sometimes, it’s simply because he delights in us.

Scripture says that every good gift comes from above. His blessings are given not because we’ve done something to earn extra points. They come because of his grace and love for us. He takes joy in our joy, pleasure in ours. There simply doesn’t have to be any reason for it. In the same way human parents bring home surprises for a child, so God does for us.

I consider the string quartet a surprise from God. It’s for the pleasure of the attendees, yes, but it’s a surprising blessing for me. I am delighting in the experience and will treasure it in the years to come because it’s something that will most likely never happen again. And I am grateful for it. I thank God for such an experience.

We should go about our daily routines, and do those things God has called us to do. There is joy in the journey. But know that when you least expect it, God will give a surprising gift of love. May your joy be great and may your hearts be overflowing with gratitude for those good gifts from above.

Getting Back Up Again

My husband is in the next room practicing playing his mandolin. It was rather rough when he started out, but through constant and diligent practice he has improved much and can play some fairly difficult pieces now.

A lot of things in life are like that. We first begin to walk and fall over and hit the floor. We begin trying to talk and it comes out gibberish. But by diligently trying over and over, we eventually walk and talk. I can think back to many firsts in my life and the effort it took to get to that point. Even my writing has improved over time in an effort to put my thoughts on paper.

My spiritual life is filled with efforts and failures with successes thrown in. It seems, though, that the failures out number the victories, which is probably true. But gradually, the failures are giving way to accomplishments. Slowly the tide is turning in my life. It is by the grace of God that this is happening. I have tripped up more times than I can possibly count, but God has been there to help me up and let me try again.

The real issue in all this, is do I try to get back up after falling. I will admit that there have been times when I simply laid there and didn’t get up. I gave up, and God will not force us to get up; he waits on us. Was I cut off? No. I simply moved to other areas where I needed to learn how to live as Christ. So what happens when we don’t get up? There is a cost in that we cannot exhibit Christ-like qualities in those areas when life demands it of us. We grieve at our failure knowing it could have been different if we had just gotten up and tried again.

I have experienced this very thing and it was a hard lesson, hard by my own making. But in those occurrences, the grace of God was there. No chiding, no “I told you so,” just enduing hope in me that it was not too late to try again to get it right. God extending the hand of grace to help me knowing that this time he will be helping me stand again should I stumble once more.

I hope that I will not give up again when I need to get up and brush myself off. I hope I have learned the lesson. I don’t want to look back and see where life could have been different had I not given up. God is encouraging me, urging me on to something better. He’s there ready to help me back onto my feet, to move forward in becoming like Christ, and that is worth the effort to succeed.

Beyond Sentimentality

I am a sentimental person; I’ll just admit that up front. I can tear up at Hallmark commercials, that’s how bad it is. I cry at movies, try as I might not to do so. I just can’t help it. I try to act like my eyes are bothering me so it won’t look like I’m crying. What I see affects me greatly and I often cry. What I hear causes me to cry too sometimes. Music that brings back memories, as well as music that is simply beautiful and moving. And what I read can do the same. I can cry at the drop of a hat.

While sentimentality isn’t a bad thing, it’s just a surface emotional expression. Crying at movies is not the same as crying at a newscast of violence tearing apart neighborhoods, or the hearing of soldiers being maimed and killed in a terrible war. While I am sentimental, the real events of this world move me even more. Tragedy should cause an emotional reaction to prompt responsive action. Otherwise, we would be observers only.

God is not an impassive observer. He is moved by suffering as well. Humans are fashioned in his image and though some ignore that by not living by their God given conscience, those who do, take action to alleviate pain. God uses us to help those who experience tragic events. It is our responsibility to provide aid to those who suffer whether it is because of a flood, or a death in the family. Wherever people are, we are to take help to them.

God has tagged us to do the work of helping those who are in distress, whatever that may be. Ask yourself if you are responding to those in need of comfort and basic needs. Give to charities that provide services to victims of natural disasters. Volunteer at a food pantry or a suicide hotline. Volunteer to work at a hospital or hospice. Organize care packages for soldiers. Seek out ways you can actively respond to those who need aid.

Maybe you don’t cry as I do, but your heart should be moved by human suffering. God has given us his Spirit, and he grieves over our sorrows. Let that same grief move you to action. People are counting on you, and God is, too.

Resisting the Good

Lately I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I am a chronic insomniac, have been for the past twenty years. I’ve been though all the sleep drugs and, of course, all the remedies that folks have suggested. None have worked until recently when a new drug was tried. I had been sleeping like a baby until the past couple weeks. I might already be developing resistance to the drug which will be depressing if that is the case. I hope not.

I’ve had resistance to other things in my life, too, some that should be resisted, but others are not such a good idea. I’ve resisted the effort to lose weight at times. I’ve resisted exercising. I’ve resisted turning the TV off more often. All these and more are things that I really shouldn’t resist. But there are those things that are vital to my emotional and spiritual well being that I should not resist, yet have at times.

I’ve resisted prayer, reading the Bible and spending time with others. I resisted taking medications for my bipolar disorder for quite some time, feeling taking them meant I was a defective failure. The truth of the matter is that resistance to those things that will benefit me will hurt me in the long run. But it will also hurt others as I am not at my best physically, emotionally and spiritually. That should be a great motivator for me to do rather than resist.

The reasons for resisting are varied, but none are excuses for neglecting to do what is right and seeking God for the desire to do right. My resistance should be directed toward those things that harm not aid. If I do not resist sin in my life I will find myself resisting God in my life, which is disastrous for a Christian.

We all need to take stock of our lives and take an honest accounting of what we may be resisting right now. It matters greatly for our well being and for our relationships with others and with God. Resisting what God has for us is to miss the opportunity to grow, and in the end, it is to our sorrow if that is the case. Resisting the wonderful grace of God might mean his plan for our good in some instances may not come to pass and who wants that? I know there are some things in my life that I am not resisting anymore and I need to feel good about that. But I also know there are a couple things I need to stop resisting and to ask for greater grace to accept and do them. In the end, I will never regret doing them; I will regret the failure to do so. It’s my choice.

Warming Our Hearts

I’m sitting here sipping a mug of coffee trying to get warm. We keep the house cool to save money. It does help with expenses, but right now I am typing with fingerless gloves to keep my hands warm. I will acclimate to it soon enough, but I’m just not ready for the cold. Summer wasn’t a typical one and I missed the sun and heat.

Sometimes, it feels like our relationship with God is cold, too, at least mine seems that way at times. I suspect it’s the case for others though they may not admit it. Just as there are periods of drought when we seek the Spirit’s presence with great intensity, there are times of chill. But the coldness is not the same as drought. It is a time in which we simply do not feel like being with God.

I hear a collective gasp right now. By that statement, I simply mean that the passion to be close to God wanes and we become cold. Many things can take precedence before God. It might be our job and over working for money. It might be time spent on the internet or zoning out in front of the TV. Perhaps sex or alcohol/drugs consume us to the point of obsession and cause us to forget about God. It might even be our church work. All of us could list more, I’m sure.

The fact is, when other things catch our attention too much, God will come in a distant second. We will not spend time in prayer or reading our bibles. Connections with others will be curtailed. We go through the motions, but the passion is lacking. I must honestly confess there were definite times when my desires were focused elsewhere, and when that happened, I grew cold toward God. I really didn’t mean it to happen, but it quietly escalated little by little and soon, whatever I was concentrating on became my complete center of attention.

I am not suggesting that we become hermits and cloister ourselves away from the world and all that it offers. But we should stop now and then to do some soul searching to see where our priorities lie. And just in case our vision is clouded and our hearts already cold, the Spirit illuminates and shows us the truth. Then grace kicks in and we are gently prodded toward seeking God again with all our hearts, to have the fire stoked again.

I cannot speak for anyone else, but it’s about time for me to do some self assessment, a spiritual checkup. I hope to see that all is well, but if through the intervention of the Spirit I find I need to make some changes, I pray that the grace of God will enable me to do just that. I want a clean bill of spiritual health.

Knowledge That Impresses

I subscribe to a service that sends me a daily word that includes pronunciation, meaning, origin and examples of usage. Virtually every word is one I’ve never seen before. I learn a lot of words that I promptly forget because I do not use them. Even if I did remember them, I would probably not use them because I think many readers would be clueless as to what I was saying. It would only show off my expansive vocabulary, however innocent that might be, or not.

Knowing scripture can be like that. We can learn the bible backwards and forward and impress others with our knowledge of it. Maybe we wouldn’t be doing it intentionally, but it does happen nonetheless, and I know this because I have often been commended on my grasp of scripture, of knowing the “address” of particular passages. I have a bible translation on my PDA that I can refer to. It also has a search function if I do draw a blank. Impressive, yes?

But no matter how much I or anyone else may know, it’s not all that impressive to God if we do not live it. He is even less impressed if I, like a Pharisee, live without grace toward others. Paul made a bold statement about this very thing. Knowledge of words and of scripture can be quite meaningless:

“If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy, but don’t have love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day…but do not have love, I’m nothing.” (1 Cor. 13:1-2, The Message)

We can know and believe everything in the bible, but if we do not live and love by it, extending grace to others, it’s worthless in the eyes of God. All the big words and the knowledge of the bible are meaningless without love for others. Scriptural knowledge should lead to transformed lives, softened hearts, pure thoughts, and graciousness acted out in everyday living.

Perhaps I will appear to be less learned by my limited vocabulary, but I would rather be understood. And I will continue to learn scripture, but only with love in my heart to all, and hope that is what impresses.

Losing the Weight

I have been on a diet for the past six months or so. I have taken off 28 pounds at this point and am trying to lose 25 more. It has not been easy especially as my metabolism has diminished as I have aged. I eat far less and I been walking for 30 minutes three times a week, but progress has been slow. I am avoiding diet plans because I know I won’t stick to them once I lose all the weight. I am just working on new behaviors that I will continue to live out after the pounds are finally shed.

I gained all the weight from a particular antipsychotic I was taking last year. I now take a different one, but live with the consequences of less energy, shortness of breath and having had to buy larger clothing. All from weighing more than I ever have. Working on the outside of me is difficult. But though my focus is on the exterior, I am reminded that I still need to work on the inside, too.

While it is a good thing I am taking care of my body, taking care of my spiritual life should not be relegated to the back burner. It needs equal if not more attention while I change my lifestyle to stay healthy. The life of a Christian requires lifestyle changes as well, and that begins on the inside. God looks at the heart when considering how we live up to a life that reflects Christ on the outside. The workout begins within and works its way out in a visibly changed life. The spiritual life cannot be neglected anymore than our physical bodies should be.

I am trying to listen to the Holy Spirit as I work off the physical weight so I do not fail to work off the weight of sin in my life. The good news is that the grace of God is at work within me to make my efforts bear fruit. He does not ask of me what I am unable to do; he is the one at work within me. I am cooperating with him as my life gradually changes. I am learning new behaviors in the heart and mind that lead to a Christ-like life.

I will continue to lose weight, and I will have to continue to be patient with the slow progress. So too, I will have to be patient as my heart slowly changes as well. Both will happen, it’s just going to take a little longer than I had first hoped. In the end, I will once again weigh what I did before, and one day, I will finally be like Christ in love and grace.

Restoring Hope

Recently several people I know have experienced loss in their lives, loss of loved ones, loss of jobs, and loss of health and they are understandably hurting and sad. But the loss I believe hurts the most is loss of hope. When I lost my father, I was deeply saddened and it hurt, but I knew he was in a far better place, no longer in pain. Because I believe I will see him and my grandmother again, I have hope.

But not all are able to cling to hope when life deals them a hard blow. Times of pain and suffering seem to touch us all and the circumstances can be so severe that all hope of getting through, of ever feeling anything but sorrow is lost. I have had times of hopelessness, most recently with the instability I was experiencing from the bipolar disorder I live with. I was in a place of feeling I would never smile again, of feeling life was too hard and death looking far better.

I have had hope restored partly because of medications that have leveled me out again. Even more, hope came back due to the prayers of loved ones, people in my life who do not give up on me even when I feel like giving up and throwing in the towel. But most of all, it is God who restores hope. If I did not believe that there is life after death, I would truly be a lost soul who would not see the point of going on. Why would I? But his promises give hope when all else says otherwise.

People all around us are hurting and have lost hope. Hope of a future, hope of restored health. Hope of having the means to pay bills and of ever finding another job. Hope of ever having joy again, of ever savoring life to its fullest. Hope of a saved marriage or restoration of a friendship. So much loss and so much pain.

Being there for someone who has suffered loss of whatever nature is what people need the most. We demonstrate love when we are present to the hopeless. But prayer is the quiet unseen action that God sees and hears as he gently heals broken hearts. It is his Spirit that moves in the hearts and minds of those who have suffered great loss and restores hope. We cannot always be present to those who are hurting, but we can pray.

Today, make a difference in the life of someone who feels hopeless. Show love anyway you can, be present to them, and above all pray, because prayer can move mountains and prayer will move us to reach out even more.

Measuring Up

Recently, I joined the ranks of thousands who connect with others via Facebook.com. It began as somewhat of an encouragement from my employer, but I soon found my high school and even grade school had networks. Suddenly, I was in contact with friends of years long ago, people I had lost touch with since graduating in 1973. A whole new world, as well as an old world, has opened to me.

As exciting as it as has been so far, I find myself falling into the comparison trap. I read of the very successful lives of some of my former classmates, of their graduate level educations, high dollar jobs and long successful careers, multi-car garages attached to 5,000 sq. foot homes, vacations in Europe, on and on. I stop and look at mine and I feel somewhat a failure.

My life in high school was tenuous already and I began a 15 year descent into alcoholism and drug addiction. While I managed to get a degree somehow, I lived life as though nothing mattered but getting high. While many of my classmates were building successful lives, I was destroying mine. It would be a long time until I would discover that I had been self medicating, but even that has its bad point. While they all were healthy, I was becoming increasingly ill. All in all, I fall short in comparison.

But it’s a dangerous thing to get into comparing oneself with others. The simple truth is we all use different measuring sticks, we all have different standards. But even beyond that, we are all unique and have differing gifts and abilities, none of our own making, because it is God who has done the gifting. The bible gives wisdom about the tendency to compare ourselves with others: …we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original. Galatians 5:25b, The Message Translation.

Each of us is an original. How can we be measured in comparison with each other? As I write this, I realize it’s true. Yes, I wasted a lot of precious years. Yes, I have a mental illness. And yes, I have mishandled finances. But I have a wonderful long-term marriage, a precious and gifted son, loyal and loving friends. The more I think about it, the more I realize just what a successful life I have. I may be a late bloomer, but that’s just fine. By the grace of God, I can live the life he fashioned me to live and it’s his measurement of me that matters, and his alone.

The next message I receive from one of my old classmates, I will read and enjoy and not worry about how my life’s story measures up, because in God’s eyes, I am a success.

Looking Past the Stigma

I have mental illness. I am mentally ill. Both those statements are true about me, and they are jarring to read. The words mental illness conjures up stereotypes of raving lunatics, dangerous and scary. The sad truth is there is so much stigma and ignorance about mental illness. My mental illness is bipolar disorder and I know that many people don’t understand what it is and how it affects me and those around me. It is fear of the unknown that fosters the stigma that persists in spite of the education and information available to us. Most just don’t care to know about it. They live in the dark when it comes to mental illness and are oblivious to the suffering and needs of those who have mental illness.

I am not just a label, I am a person with gifts and dreams, heartaches and joys; I am someone made in the image of God. I have value and mental illness changes nothing about that. I am not dangerous. I am not a drain on society. I am able to do many of the same things others do because of those who have made it their life’s work to help, both through therapy and medications. I can be stable and productive as can most others with mental illness. But the stigma persists.

I’ve been told that I just need to stop thinking like I do. I just need to pray more or read my bible more. I just need to get a grip on things. I just need to snap out of it. The list goes on. If I could make the bipolar disorder go away, I would in a heartbeat. But my brain is different than other brains; CAT scans have shown this to be so. I cannot help it and neither can others who have a mental illness. I do pray, I do read my bible, I do try to pull myself up by my bootstraps, yet I still have mental illness.

I don’t think God is saying I don’t do enough, that if I just tried a little harder I’d be miraculously healed. I think he wants me to just trust him for what I need to live life fully as I am. There are paraplegics, diabetics, the blind and deaf, the list goes on, who are trusting God to be there for them, and they are thankful in spite of their difficulties. I seek the same. And if the stigma never ends, I know there is complete acceptance with him and with those who love me.

I write these things because I hope that by being open here, I will give a face to mental illness for the sake of others. Maybe in a small way I will have lessened some of the stigma. It’s worth the risk to me. And I will trust God that my life will not have been in vain, that the bipolar disorder will not define me as a person, but rather foster compassion and acceptance for those who need it. Stigma be damned.

God's Acceptance

One of the most painful things that can happen to us is rejection. It’s a stab in the heart, and depending on how close the relationship, it can be like a knife twisting, inflicting much damage and pain. I have been on the receiving end of rejection more times that I care to talk about. Each time, I felt the pain of the loss of relationship and love. It just hurt.

For whatever reasons, I sometimes do not measure up, or I do or say something that makes me undesirable afterward. Sometimes, I’ve not known the reason for rejection and that hurts in its own unique way. While rejection from those I want to forge a relationship with is hurtful, it’s not near as much pain as when I’ve entrusted my heart. I have a somewhat checkered past and am careful with whom I reveal details. I have lived to regret sharing some things because it led to rejection. Not always outright, but in more subtle ways: the cooling down of friendship intimacy, less communication and canceling of plans. It’s happened, and the pain is severe.

I think we’ve all experienced rejection and its pain. Everyone has been at both ends of rejection. It goes along with being human. We fail each other; we withdraw for a variety of reasons and in doing so, hurt people. The fact is as long as we open our hearts to other people, we are open to rejection. As the old adage goes, it’s not wise to put all your eggs in one basket, but it seems we often do so, sometimes to our great sorrow.

There is only one with whom I’ve been able to share all and not risk rejection. That one is God. His amazing acceptance has healed much from lost friendships and acquaintances. As much as I have fallen short, he has always extended the hand of grace, of love and whole hearted acceptance. He created me, who else is able to so completely understand my failings and shortcomings. Who else sees my longings and pain with eyes that probe deep within the heart and soul? I was fashioned for relationship, with other people and with him. When others fail, I can run to his open arms and find solace there.

God awaits all who seek true love. Love that does not fail, that does not reject when we don’t measure up. Love that compels an openness and authenticity that although is frightening at first, leads to a wholeness that restores joy at being freed to be who we are, made in his image. Rejection will touch all of us, but God’s love that never fails heals all wounds. All our eggs can safely go in his basket.

Relational Love

Relationships can be so messy. People fall in and out of love, riding the wave of passions and promises, sometimes keeping them, sometimes breaking them. Marriages, friendships, parents and children, coworkers, neighbors, relationships wax and all too often wane, never neatly and rarely do they do so without someone being hurt. It seems to be the way of people who form attachments, appearing inevitable, but that’s cold comfort to those who have been hurt.

How we view relationships and their stability or instability depends a lot on experience, often those from childhood. I won’t go into statistics or speculations about broken marriages and influences on developing children. I’m not really qualified to speak to it. I can only speak to the string of broken relationships I have had down through the years. Some I thought would never end because love seemed a sure thing, but where are those people now? Some I ended, having used a person up and just moved on. No apologies, just walked away.

What harm I have caused in my life, a tornado damaging all in its path. I have much to grieve and regret. But regardless of which end I was on, I suffered loss, and that is how it is for all of us. Whether we are left, or whether we do the leaving, there is loss. Even in relationships that really do need to end, abusive, extramarital, unhealthily codependent, there is still loss; loss of peace of mind, of hopes and dreams, of futures, of self image and sense of worth. Loss hurts.

To be honest, I’m not really sure why I am writing this. As far as I know, relationships in my life are intact, though some have been altered in the past year and that has affected me. Perhaps that is what has prompted this particular piece. I feel deeply for those I love. I don’t make statements of love lightly anymore. What I had called love for a long time was infatuation, sexual attraction, or need, none of which has a thing to do with love.

The simple truth is, I did not know what love was until I experienced the love of God. Faithfulness, concern, affection, constant, and endless are just a few attributes I only paid lip service to in my human definition of love. My expression had more to do with convenience and need, knowing I could always end a relationship that was no longer easy to maintain. Working to make something flourish was foreign. But that is exactly what God’s love does. In the light of his love, my own seems infantile because it is.

What relationships need is an infusion of the love of God that is beyond words, yet the bible does attempt to describe it in 1 Corinthians 13:

“Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”

This is longer than what I usually post, but for some reason I needed to say it. Maybe the simple message is that with God's kind of love, relationships can endure, and the pain of loss will no longer be suffered. Though it won't necessarily be easy, in fact, it will be work, all it takes is prayer and the love we need, God's love, is ours.

Simple Gifts, Boundless Blessings

Sometimes, it’s the small things that bless me the most. Oh, I have had some biggies this past year and I rejoiced greatly over them. But it’s wrong to overlook the simpler gifts God gives us. How easy it is to regard the very things we consider ordinary as just the way things are.

I went to the grocery store yesterday and bought everything on my list. But as I was paying for it, it never occurred to me to thank God that I had access to so much food, as well as the means to purchase it. Most of the world does not have such abundance, and even in our own country, there are many who would love to buy say, fresh fruit, and cannot because it’s too expensive.

I brought it all home and put it in a cold refrigerator, in an air conditioned house, filled with every kind of convenience. Did I think to thank God? No, the thought never crossed my mind. I have a good education, a great job that pays reasonably well, the means to buy most clothing and shoes I want, along with many other desires, above and beyond the basic needs of life. Yet, I thoughtlessly take them as commonplace things I acquire through my own efforts.

If I stop and truly think about it, the majority of people in the world do not even have access to the things we consider as ordinary, let alone the means to buy them. My middle class income and possessions are beyond their wildest dreams. My house is a small two bedroom “cracker box” house built 50 years ago. Certainly humble, but it’s a house, while thousands upon thousands of refugees do not even have tents. I turn on lights, I can shower daily and have all the clean water I want, I have transportation with a new car, things that the majority of people in the world can barely imagine.

My mother has prayed the same prayer of grace before eating for more years than I have lived: “Gracious heavenly Father, we thank you for this food. Teach us to be ever mindful of all the good things that come from your hands, and let us always have grateful hearts. In your name we pray, amen.” It is a simple prayer, but it is a prayer of thanksgiving that is certainly sweet to God’s ears.

I pray that I, too, will be taught to be mindful of all the good things, the simple things that God has blessed me with. And I pray for forgiveness that I have taken all I’ve been given for granted. The words from an old Shaker hymn sums it up: “Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free, 'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be…” Where we ought to be is in the place of continual gratitude. I’m going to find my way there and hopefully stay there.

The Promise of Peace

I sit here fighting fatigue, ready to call it quits. I’ve had only three hours of sleep in the past twenty-seven, and I feel it. In fact, writing this is proving to be a difficult challenge, but I’m doing it anyway, hoping that something worthwhile will magically spring forth.

King David experienced extreme fatigue also from the efforts to survive the murderous actions of Saul as he pursued David for years. On the run, David endured deprivations, assaults, treachery, and rejections. God had promised David the kingdom of Israel, yet here he was an outcast running for his life. The promise of God seemed to be a hopeless dream. So, too, the promises of God for today sometimes seem to be out of our reach for any number of reasons.

Number one on my list for promises in this life is peace; peace of mind and of heart. That is what I desire more than anything, yet it seems to be lacking at times. I have often wondered why it comes and goes without external pressures and events. I could blame it all on the bipolar disorder, and that may be true sometimes. But I think there are others reasons why I sometimes have anxious feelings, even panic.

All too often, my thought life is the real culprit. I start dwelling on fears, real and imagined and peace flies out the window. I worry about events that may not even have a basis in reality, fretting over projected tragedies. My son is in the Army and my greatest fear is his dying at the hands of those who hate him and what he represents. It violently tears away any peace of mind I might have had up to that point. I worry about what might happen to my husband or friends and family. I latch onto unfounded fears and lose the peace of God instantly, and if I continue thinking along those lines, I become agitated and emotionally distraught. All because I began to doubt that God is always there, and regardless of what might happen or not, his promise of peace that passes all understanding is temporarily lost.

Is because he has failed to keep his promise to me? No, nothing has changed on his end. It’s there, I know because I have experienced it many times. It’s just that I step away from it and what I want the most in life slips from my grasp. Peace that abides no matter what life throws at me. Peace that remains if the worst really should happen. Peace that keeps my heart and mind through all things, and peace I can share as I live in it and with it, even in the fog of fatigue.

David did become king. God kept his promise. Peace is mine, though at times I might lose its wonderful presence. This I pray, that the peace of God, the promise he gives, would guard hearts and minds even in the most stressful circumstances. It’s a promise God keeps, this deep down I truly know.

The High Price of Shame

I’m not sure there is anything that tears at the heart and soul like shame. According to the bible, the first thing Adam and Eve felt after eating the forbidden fruit was shame. In other words, it has always been a part of the human condition and it is one of the most terrible of emotions, one that has the power to destroy those who live with it.

I’ve heard it said that feelings are neutral, it’s how we express or not express them that matters. But I have to say shame is definitely an exception. It slowly consumes joy and peace, distorts the personality, and cuts us off from others, and ultimately, God. Shame drives us to hide because we fear rejection and judgment. It is a devastating pain that aches deep within the mind. The terrible truth is suicides have been attempted or successfully committed because of the despair of shame.

I have lived in the grip of shame at times. For years I lived with regret and shame over past sins, ones that I believed were worse than those of others. Somehow, my actions, thoughts and words were unforgivable. And even when I finally understood I was forgiven, the shame lingered on, eating away at my peace of mind like a cancer. I only had brief respites from the anguish that is shame. Just when I felt I had shaken off its chains, I would be shackled again by some sort of trigger, reminding me of a checkered past I am powerless to change.

This was not God’s intent when he created within us a conscience. And the most treasured all written moral codes, the Ten Commandments, was never intended to cause shame. The intent was to prevent shame by laying down the ground rules that, when followed, causes us to live in peace with all, including God. But we fail and in doing so, either seek forgiveness or hide in shame. God’s amazing grace is showered in the former, and grieves over the latter.

I still wrestle with shame on occasion. For me, it’s a conditioned response from years of unfortunate practice. It’s like a heavy, mildewed overcoat that I will slip into now and then. I’ll wear it around inhaling the vile odor, but leave it on because I feel I deserve it because of my past. Jesus came to take the coat off me, and really has done so, it’s just that I dig around for it and when I find it, I put it back on. He hasn’t failed me at all. He did remove it, but it’s still around so I can make a choice: trust God’s forgiveness or live tormented by false shame. Slowly, I am learning to trust. The coat just doesn’t fit anymore.

Diary of a Mad Woman

I don’t normally write in a diary entry fashion, but today I will because the past two weeks have been hellish for me. Manic then depressed, back and forth. Panic, anxiety, it’s been a horrid time and I frankly have come close to just giving up on ever being stable again. A hopelessness that was becoming stronger as each day passed. In spite of the medications I take, I was getting very little sleep.

I finally had a meltdown at work and got extremely angry at a coworker for a minor incident. I left work early and was given permission to take off a day for my mental health. I had hoped to regroup, but I was still anxious and like a powder keg that could explode if not handled carefully. I snapped at a patron and was generally miserable. I called my psychiatrist and she decided to make a change in dosage of a particular medication I take that she felt was triggering the mania and the subsequent downward spiral that happens after an episode. Fortunately, this change appears to be working because I am feeling more stable, just in time for my son’s week at home.

I have been unable to go to church the whole time because I simply would not be able to lie and say I was fine when asked, and I do not wish for the general members to know I am bipolar. What would I say, “I feel hopeless and crazy”? So, I have just been in my survival mindset. It’s all I have been able to do.

Although many times I cannot pray for myself when I get into a place like this, I did. It’s probably the main reason why I kept putting one foot in front of the other, when all I wanted to do was simply give up; that and the faithful prayers of those who knew how much I was struggling. It seems when I am at my lowest, God feels nowhere to be found. Yet, he is a constant presence in my life. I accept this by faith because I have been keenly aware of him at other times. By faith, I believe I have not been abandoned. If I did, the urge to give up would become unbearable and I would act on it. I have before, just without success. But I believe that failure was God’s intervention as well.

I still do not understand mental illness in my life. The why goes unanswered—for now. Like Job, I am humbled by God and his incredible vastness. But it’s mind boggling that the Creator even considers me. Though I may in the dark for now, I know I am loved beyond all capacity to receive. Maybe it isn’t hopeless after all.

Emotional Expressions

I am amazed at how easily I can get off track. Then again, it doesn’t surprise me at all. I have always been a yo-yo type person; up and down, hot and cold, on and off. I ride a roller coaster of emotions from peak to valley and back again in short order as I speed along. Today has been a day of uncertainty. Something as simple as going to the grocery store has sparked an anxiety attack. So I have stayed inside all day. It’s hard for a lot of people to understand something like that. It defies explanation.

Unfortunately, this hot and cold emotional life spills over into my spiritual life as well. While I pray daily for people, some days it just doesn’t come as easy as others. Prayer becomes a homework assignment I drag my feet to get started. It shouldn’t be like that, but it simply is sometimes. In some circles that would be a bad thing to admit, but Christianity that is not authentic is worthless in my book.

God sees it all and understands. I don’t need to explain myself to him. I know he wants better for me, but as I move that direction, it is in fits and starts that I go. It’s not that I don’t want to get to the place where he is leading; it’s that feelings sometimes get in the way. Yet, I was crafted with emotional capacity and though broken by the harsh experiences life can bring, I still have the gift of expression through those very emotions that seem to get in the way.

But then again, maybe they are not the roadblock they seem. If I was created in God’s image, then I have a glimpse of who he is, though I cannot see him clearly in this life. He has endued me with the same emotions he has, to give expression to them as he does. There is no right or wrong to emotions, only in how we choose to act on them. My emotions may be affected by the bipolar disorder I live with, but they are still holy because they are a gift from God. They are essential to who I am. They define me in ways that are unique, just as they are to all.

Rather than wishing they didn’t get in the way, I should be thankful that they sometimes do. It means I am still a work in progress and someday, he will finish with what I hope will be something pure and lovely. The roller coaster ride will come to an end and the emotions will no longer demand my attention, but will be used to express gratitude for the grace that makes them a gift to be cherished.

Independence Day Thoughts

It’s Independence Day and to be honest, I’m not all that excited. As a child, the 4th of July was next to Christmas and birthdays in terms of anticipation. I could barely contain my enthusiasm for firecrackers, bottle rockets and sparklers. Every year I’d get burned a bit by careless handling of punks and sparks from the sparklers inevitably caught some skin, but nothing that a wild tomboy couldn’t deal with. I was too engrossed with blowing up things to care about a burn or two.

Though my “adultness” keeps me from too much excitement, the fact is if handed some firecrackers, I’d be looking for an empty tin can to blow into the air. There is something about blowing things up that appeals to some lower nature in me. I don’t know whether or not that is something I should confess, but it’s on paper now. So as I sip a cup of coffee and listen to the sounds of fireworks going off in my neighborhood, I cannot help but remember the Independence Days of my childhood.

As a kid, I knew the hoopla was a celebration of the day the Declaration of Independence was signed. I had to know that much to make it through school. There was always rousing band music and flags waving, and of course, fireworks. It was a time when I was in awe of uniforms and ceremony and very proud that I could say my dad was in the Air Force. It was a childish patriotism, but everyone felt that way. I was surrounded by people who revered the flag and all the protocol that is entailed when handling it. The flag was almost holy. Each school morning, we’d face the flag, put our right hands over our hearts and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I could recite it along with the Lord’s Prayer. The two may have been the same in my understanding. Somehow, God seemed American to me and the USA was the best country in the world.

A lot has changed in the world from the years when I was busily blowing up things. I’ve learned that the flag is not sacred, the Pledge of Allegiance causes controversy, and the USA is not liked by many. And God is not an American. Never was. I am though. In spite of questionable leadership and corrupt government, injustice and inequality, racism and violence, there is still something that causes me to choke back tears when I hear the national anthem. Maybe it’s just a conditioned response, but I doubt it. I can see that with all its many flaws, America is still blessed with much good: abundant resources, wealth, opportunity, and countless generous and caring people. I may not always like how my government acts, but I live in a nation where I can say that and not fear.

So maybe I was wrong to say I’m not too excited today. I am an American. I am proud that I was an Air Force brat, that my father served his country for 25 years. I am proud that my son is a cadet at West Point and serves his country in the military. I am proud of the young men and women serving overseas in harm’s way. But I am also proud to be in a land where people serve others everyday in soup kitchens and missions; of those who work for justice and equality; of teachers in classrooms; police officers and firefighters; honest government employees; and all the ordinary folks who get up, go to work, pay taxes, give to their churches and drop money in the Salvation Army buckets each December. I live in a nation where creativity is allowed to flourish and dissension is permitted. I live in a country where people from all walks of faith may gather and worship freely. I live in America and I’m proud of it. And it’s all because some very brave people put pen to paper over two hundred thirty years ago and began a grand experiment in democracy and freedom.

I guess I am excited after all.

Peace, Be Still

The past month has been a bit of a roller coaster for me. The bipolar disorder I live with has been in control in spite of the medications I take. I recently changed one drug I’ve been on for the past year because of a 60 pound gain in weight. I switched to another antipsychotic that is equally effective but at a fairly low dose because the initial dosage gave side effects I couldn’t handle. Right after that, things quickly deteriorated and I began experiencing symptoms that had been kept at bay.

I had originally been diagnosed as having Bipolar II which is a milder version of the disorder, known as Bipolar I, with the primary distinction being the absence of hallucinations or psychosis during mania. In BPD II it’s called hypomania, but as it turns out, my diagnosis was apparently incorrect because of what followed the change of medication.

For a few days after starting the medication, I was fine, but soon the roller coaster took off and I began to experience the familiar signs of hypomania, restlessness, irritability, difficulty sleeping, abundant energy, to name a few. What began as the expected episode soon accelerated into something beyond what I have had this past year. The symptoms of hypomania became exaggerated. I had to increase the medication I take to manage the anger and rage I can experience. It normally puts me to sleep, but failed to. It became very difficult to think clearly because my thoughts raced and I struggled at work. I couldn’t keep still, pacing instead of sitting. Add to that a nighttime cough and I soon was going without sleep for days. Finally, it culminated in hallucinations and I began hearing voices that were not there. That’s when I knew I was really in trouble.

A call to my psychiatrist and I was put back on the old medication at a high dose for a couple days and the symptoms subsided. That is when she told me that I had been misdiagnosed, that I had Bipolar I and my symptoms were worsening for some unknown reason. The new antipsychotic was gradually increased so I could adjust to it and I am now at a fairly high dose and stabilized again.

It was a frightening experience, one I hope to never have again, but there is no guarantee. I must admit that I wonder where God was when this was happening and why I even have this mental illness. I used to pray continually for it to be taken away, but my prayers and those of others seemed to go unanswered. I felt angry, betrayed, abandoned, and unloved. If God is so great, then how hard would it be to just make the bipolar go away? Like Job, I tried to praise God in spite of the adversity I face. And I have.

I still don’t have the answer to my question, but I do have something better: peace. Not the kind of peace that keeps me from mania or extreme depression. That is kept in check by medications. But the kind of peace that comes from God, the abiding peace that can only come from a divine source. It is the peace that says, “Be still and know that I am God.” I know there is a plan for my life and it includes mental illness. Not that he made me to be bipolar, but that he uses it to help others even as I struggle to learn how to live with it. In the end, it will only matter that I lived as best I could for him and loved along the way. He speaks peace to me and I hear it. I hear it.

Remodeling Within

My husband and I recently decided to get new siding and windows for our house. It's all installed now and looks great. I know our neighbors appreciate the upgrade and some of them are now sprucing up their houses. It's amazing how what people see on the outside has an impact on them. That's one of the main reasons Christians need to be careful in their walk through this world. People are watching and judging Christ by what they see. Paul said to do nothing to discredit the name of Jesus.

But once we got the outside of the house looking great, we looked at the inside and realized just how rundown it looks. Paint is needed badly and new linoleum in the kitchen. The inside needs cleaning up even more than the outside. That's how it is with Christians. Sometimes the outside looks great, but inside we aren't very Christ-like at all. Thoughts that are not loving, lust, greed, resentments, all these and more can deaden the spirit and affect the soul.

God calls us to look within and consider our inner lives carefully, to use Scripture and the light of the Holy Spirit to enlighten us, to give us eyes to see what lies within. And lest we feel hopeless when we see the true condition of our hearts, he reminds us gently that Jesus bore all those weaknesses and sins on the cross of crucifixion. He died so we could be forgiven. He was raised from the dead so we, too, could have new lives. Lives that are continually being transformed by the inner working of the Holy Spirit.

The outside counts for much, but while God wants us to reflect his grace to the world, he looks inside to our hearts--to innermost core of our being. We cannot escape his gaze. But his search is not to condemn, it is to bring light so we can yearn for more, to seek to be as him in this world. I say this because I know he is looking inside me and showing me what needs to change. Though it may make me uncomfortable at times, I truly want to be like Jesus. With that desire, I welcome his searching gaze, because I know it means he loves me. I am after all my Father's daughter.

Loving All

I have been doing some soul searching. As a Christian I am called to love everyone from the easy to like to the unlovable. I encounter both most days at my job. I work with the public and believe me, some are really a royal pain. We have the chronic complainers, the ones you simply cannot please. The unpleasant odors of the homeless who will not or cannot bathe. The loud and obnoxious. The insolent teens. The argumentative and the yellers. I am supposed to love them the way God does, but my buttons can only be pushed so many times and then I lose the love that I should have for those who are made in God's image no matter how they appear or present themselves. It's so easy to love with God's love the pleasant people who greet me kindly. But the pushy are a challenge and frankly, all too often I fail.

Everyday on my way to work, I pray for those I will encounter. I pray for the strength I need to love all I will see. If I fail, it's not because God failed me. He loves unconditionally, and he loves me even when I don't measure up. For that I am grateful. It reminds me that I can be unlovable, too; yet I am loved. Next Monday when I get back to work, I will once again pray and learn to love as I ought: God's way. I have faith that by the power of the Holy Spirit, I will, little by little, learn to love those who are difficult, to pray for them, to be kind to them no matter how they treat me. God will give me what I need to accomplish this if I draw on his love. It's there. I just need to tap into it.

The day will come when I will always love unconditionally because I am my Father’s daughter and have inherited his character—it’s just not completely evident yet. Until then, I will continue to press forward to grasp what is his nature, the all consuming love that he pours out. May it flow through me to all I encounter. As scripture says, I love because he first loved me. Let this be so in my life today and all days.

Proclaiming Communion

Today we had communion at church. It is a sacrament that I look forward to. Ever since I was young, I have always known that it was something very special, significant in the lives of Christians. I remember as a child not being allowed to take it, it was only for those who embraced the mystery of it, because it is a holy sign of God’s grace given freely for and to us. I understand that now. I also understand the gift of salvation represented in the elements. The shed blood and broken body of Christ for our benefit. Though we do not deserve it, yet we are of inestimable value to God and he gave all to bring us back into fellowship with him.

I cannot approach communion lightly. It is not just a rite we perform once a month. It represents the suffering and death of Jesus Christ on our behalf. Scripture says as we partake of the Lord’s Supper, we proclaim the death of Christ until he returns. I believe that truth, that fundamental tenet of the faith I embrace. What we need to grasp as we eat the bread and drink the wine is that without death there can be no resurrection. That’s why proclaiming Christ’s death is so fundamental. His resurrection is our hope and our joy; the promise of our own resurrection, even in this life as we are gradually transformed into his likeness.

Remember this as you next take communion. Remember the price Jesus paid as he went to the cross as ransom for us. Death has been conquered and the promise of a life everlasting is ours even now. Darkness and death have been overcome by the light and life of God. We have that light within us now. We are alive in Christ and we will experience that light and life throughout eternity. Communion reminds us of that. It is a sure promise we can stake our lives on, now and forever.

Sadness Endures for the Night, but Joy Comes with the Morning

Today I am sad. There's no other word for it, just sad. This morning I put my son on a plane back to West Point after a week of spring break. The time flew by. Life is like that--good times rush past while dark days crawl. My sadness is a response to life's circumstances. It's not depression. Sadness, feeling blue, heartbroken, these are temporary states of mind that are based on things we cannot control. Depression is a mental condition that has no connection with external situations. It just happens. It is a physical condition of the brain. It also is long term. It's important for me to know the difference.

There are many things in life that can sadden us, just as there are those things that give us joy. I've heard it said that without the tough times, the painful times, joy is diminished. I don't like the sound of that, but there may be some truth to it. David experienced great upheavals in his life and his emotions went along for the ride. While I do not make the comparison between his life and mine, the lessons are the same. God is present no matter the circumstances, be they life threatening or far less in scope. As David sang, His rod and His staff comfort me. He leads me beside the still waters and makes me lie down in green pastures. He did for David and he does it for me.

So this time of sadness will hurt for a while. I may feel blue all week, or after hearing his voice when he calls to let us know he has made back safely, I may perk up. Regardless, the Shepherd of my soul is quietly comforting me and holding me near. He gently wipes away the tears and patiently leads me on. The still waters beckon and I will go lie down and listen for Him.

Midweek Meditation

I had occasion today to revisit the past while sharing my story with someone. It was an opportunity to give a “testimony” as they say in some churches. I felt I was supposed to tell where I had come from and the life I once led, sharing a brief history of my journey, and the stops along the way, that led to the life I now embrace.

It is always with trepidation that I tell the truth. It’s not that I lie about my past. I just choose to omit much of it for many valid reasons, and perhaps not so valid reasons. What was different today is that I came away from the experience minus the burden that often follows such a revelation: The burden of shame. Regardless of how much I have changed, and how much I understand of the power of Christ’s blood to cleanse and restore, there has always been a sense of shame that clings to me whenever I talk of my past. The level of intensity has greatly diminished over the years, yet it lingers.

Of all emotions or feelings, nothing is as deadly as shame. It is a corrosive poison that kills. It steals faith, hope, joy and peace. It destroys the spirit, soul, and even body. I cannot prove it, but I am convinced most suicides are prompted by unremitting shame. There is no burden harder to bear. Unlike the conviction of the Holy Spirit, shame does not lead to Christ-like transformation. It leads to condemnation and death.

I Peter 2:4-6, 9-10 says, “As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God though Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: See, I have laid in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trust in him will never be put to shame…But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”

What a marvelous promise, but it comes with a condition. To embrace the promise, you must trust—trust in the efficacy of Jesus’ blood and sacrifice, his atonement on our behalf. It is either true or we are totally without hope. At least, I am. But I do trust. I choose to trust even though at times my head tells me otherwise. I do believe that Jesus’ death and resurrection, the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, and the incomprehensible love and grace of the Father are all I need to be free, not only from sin, but also guilt and shame.

This afternoon, my heart has been singing the refrain of an old hymn:

Grace, grace, God’s grace
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within
Grace, grace, God’s grace
Grace that is greater than all our sin

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

In His Image

It’s been a while since I last posted. I’ve just had a hard time conjuring up the words to share. A blog is a journal that is shared with the world, but when I blog I try to write about the things that touch all who share faith in Christ—the things that matter most in our faith walk, the way our lives are touched by the Holy Spirit and our relations with others.

One of the things he cares about the most is how we interact with the world around us, the people whom he made in his image. The attractive as well as those who make us want to turn away, the ones who make us want to distance ourselves. I encounter both on a daily basis in the job I do. The polite and the impolite. The pleasant and those who are surly. Those who bathe regularly and those whose body odor is offensive to smell. Some are easy to offer service to while others are a challenge. But all are reflections of their creator, because all are made in his image: The rich, the poverty stricken, the healthy and those with terminal illness, the gentle and the obnoxious, those who have answered God’s call and those still wandering in darkness. And God calls us to treat all with the love of Christ. Not always an easy task.

Jesus ate with sinners, prostitutes, tax collectors; the very people who were rejected as unclean by the religious leaders of that time. He also loved those who were wealthy and enjoyed the good things of life. All were being called to salvation, and it is to all now that he extends his mercy and grace as a free gift, but we have to share that good news in how we live out our lives in the presence of all people we encounter on a daily basis. It’s a task that is demanding and daunting, yet he prepares the way before us through the working of the Holy Spirit.

We must all remember that every person we see, whether they are rich and powerful or stumbling with drunkenness, are made in the image of God and have intrinsic value—value that God confers. Enough value to call for Christ’s death on the cross. I know I sometimes struggle to carry out the Great Commission, yet that is what he has called me to do. With the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit I will do what on my own I could never do, love the unlovable as well as the lovable. May he transform me even more in his image as I live out his high calling.

God Provides

Got home from church a little while ago. It was a very good service and I am glad I went. In the midst of it I noticed my mental state. I was very calm, at peace. It’s been a while since I have really felt that way. The medications I take are supposed to make me feel this way, and they seem to be working for now. But it’s more than drugs that keep me from going from one emotional extreme to another. It’s the Holy Spirit who dwells within me that is the real source of joy and peace. He is the one who strengthens me and gives me wisdom to know that I need to take my medications daily so I will be balanced.

God has seen to every need of his children’s. His provision is sure. Just as he is aware of the sparrows, just as he has the hairs of our heads counted, he knows our needs even before we are aware of them. Indeed some of them we are never aware of. We won’t know about them until we see him face to face. His grace is extended to us in countless ways and through that grace he provides for us.

I am amazed by the surprises of grace that come my way, even on the dark days. I may not always recognize them, or even be ungrateful at times in my ignorance, but it doesn’t stop them from coming into my life. The Lord of love delights in his children and he showers us with spiritual gifts each day. We just don’t always notice the blessings. We are sometimes blind to them. But grace wins out in the end, with or without our participation. He desires that we join in and receive all he gives, but he still pours out the grace even if we don’t recognize what he is doing.

My prayer is that I would become more aware of the Spirit’s presence in my life. That I would know it is he who is moving behind the scenes, orchestrating the work in progress that is my life. All of us are being regenerated and recreated in the image of the one who crafted us in our mother’s womb. He planned for us from the beginning of time and the plan included all we will ever need. Gifts of grace brought to us by the Spirit of God who transforms us each day, providing salvation, hope and peace. May his grace open our eyes to see him in at work in our lives this day.

We All Need Somebody to Lean On

I recently joined an online support group for those with bipolar disorder. It’s been a blessing. I have met a lot of people who experience the same mental illness and they offer much insight and collective wisdom. But most of all, they are not crazy, which means I am not crazy. I know that may sound weird, but I wasn’t sure about it. Hearing their stories and their current struggles has given me hope that all will be okay if I just keep on doing what I am doing and stay on the medications.

I am also a part of a world wide support group known as the people of God. They, too, have much insight and collective wisdom, and I find fellowship with them. I rub elbows with them daily and even keep in contact by email and websites, just like my new found support site.

Just like I have been unsure at times about my sanity, there also have been times when I have wondered about my faith, my salvation. And just as I find support at the mental health website I have found, so too, I find support and encouragement among other Christians. None of us are meant to go it alone. We need each other’s support as we walk in this world. We are family joined together by the Spirit who makes us one with Christ.

One of the Psalms says how good it is for the people of God to dwell peacefully together. We were crafted for relationship with God and with each other. We are a band of brothers and sisters who pray for one another, and love unconditionally just as Christ loves us, no matter what. The old song, “we are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord” rings true.

Whatever your burden, there are willing hands to help carry the load. We walk the same path. And even though we may have different struggles, we share the same weaknesses that required Jesus to bear the cross. That oneness before the cross makes us inseparable in this life and the next.

Bill Withers sang a song years ago: “Just call on me brother when you need a hand; we all need somebody to lean on. I just might have a problem that you’ll understand; we all need somebody to lean on.” As I lean on Christ, I also lean on my brothers and sisters, and they lean on me. We are there for each other. There is no better support group.

His Grace is Sufficient for Me

The holidays are past and the dreariness of winter is setting in. I know for many people, winter sometimes induces depression. Short days, cold temperatures, weak sunlight. I know it is hard for me to avoid the feeling of depression. But it is more than that for me. I am bipolar and depression and I are intimately acquainted. I also exhibit symptoms of hypomania at times—uncontrolled thoughts, inappropriate speech, anxiety, rage, spiked energy that robs me of sleep and keeps me unable to focus. I feel great for a little while, then the edginess sets in and I get highly irritable, angry and unable to control my emotions. I take medications that help. If it weren’t for them, I’d have a hard time writing this.

I have asked the question for the past several years: where is God in all this? Indeed, I would imagine that others ask that same question about circumstances that affect them as well. We all suffer at times. For me, it’s mental illness, and it will be a lifelong condition. I will be on medication the rest of my life to control it. So where is God? Why do I have to live with this condition?

When I get to the place of despair, I am reminded of Paul. He, too, had a besetting problem that he sought God to take away. He asked multiple times. But God did not, effectively saying “no” to his request. In fact, he got an answer from God: “My grace is sufficient for you.” What that looked like for Paul, we do not know. But one thing is for sure, Paul was able to carry on.

What that tells me is that God has said the same to me, because as many times as I have asked, nothing has changed. He is telling me that his grace will suffice. But he has not left me to fend for myself. His grace has made a way for me in the medicines I take. That is his answer to my need.

I will always grapple with mental illness. It has affected me all my life. But God’s grace overcomes and though I exhibit symptoms now and then, I can continue to lean on Jesus for the strength I need to live life to the fullest. I can experience God’s grace and strength in my weakness. For that I am grateful. I may not fully understand God’s plan for me, but I can follow the path he has laid out for me and rest assured he will walk with me through the journey.