a trust thing

I'm sitting here, staring at my computer screen, and thinking, "I should write." I'm really unsettled still, although I did sleep a bit better last night, thank God. I have a mostly instrumental jazz album, put out by a really talented pianist named Mike Janzen playing on my stereo, and I'm sitting here and thinking, and staring at my screen, and trying to wrap words around thoughts I can't pinpoint and ideas I don't understand.

Last night was interesting, I suppose. It was, well, church. To be honest, in retrospect, I wish I'd gone to the Steve Bell concert with my brother instead, but it seemed important to be at the "family meeting." Long. That would be a good word to describe it. And there were faces missing in the group - people who've been around for a long time who couldn't make it for the evening, or are now heading in other directions, and that made me sad in some ways.

I had the chance to chat with Nolan and Faye, and that was fun. Showed a few people my art piece from this week, and that was kind of fun too.

The pub afterwards was good - just four of us girls, talking about life and work and God and boys and telling stories. Why was an hour in the pub far more meaningful and significant to my evening than a five hour "family meeting" at church?

I drove a friend home, and she told me something that made me smile and laugh and feel totally uncomfortable at the same time. God wants her to share her story. Which doesn't surprise me, because her story is great. What grabbed me is that God asked the same thing of me a couple months back, and I started to do it - but then I told someone who had journeyed with me fairly closely at times over the space of a couple of years, and that person very much minimized my experience of healing, destroyed any trust I had in them, and has left me questioning a number of things about my relationship to the church I have been calling home for the last three years. And, when my story of healing was minimized, I was silenced. I lost the desire to tell others - yeah, I've told good friends here and there, but I am afraid to tell the world at large - it's easier to sit in silence than to face the rejection of unhearing ears. And yet, at the same time I want to shout from the rooftops this thing that God has done in my life. I want to stand and give testimony to the healing love of Jesus. I want to tell the world that He was faithful through years of depression, and one night, He reached down and rescued me from that pit. I want to tell them that healing doesn't necessarily mean tidiness - that my healing has resulted in a life that is completely off balance, totally messy, and worth every second.

I'm thinking a lot about Mexico. Praying a lot for this trip, because I'm really scared to make it. It's a trust issue. In a whole lot of ways. Do I trust some people who've hurt me, but are playing a leadership role on this trip? Do I trust God to uphold me and help me combat these fears?

There are a lot of issues involved in this trip for me. I've avoided anything that could be labeled "missions" for a lot of years. Because short-term missions is really tied up in my relationship with my dad, and that's not always such an easy thing for me. He has definite opinions, is disappointed that I felt God calling me to Mexico, instead of on a team to Ukraine with my dad and brother and another man from my dad's church. When you add to that mess my fear thing - this thing that I can't explain and don't seem to have a lot of skill at combating, it could be a crazy trip. And one of my very "messy" friends is traveling with us, and that scares me too. Because I can't help wonder how much she'll need me, and how much of my emotional, physical and spiritual energy will be tied up in fighting my own battles for freedom on this trip.

I came home last night and found the CDs my brother purchased at my request at the Steve Bell concert. I lay in bed (avoiding sleep - and the unsettled awakenings) and listened to the music and read lyric sheets. Steve's latest album is covers of Bruce Cockburn's music, and I was caught by the following lyric (incidentally, if you love liturgical, reflective music, with a strong scriptural component, you must check out Steve's music):

Gone from mystery into mystery
Gone from daylight into night
Another step deeper into darkness
Closer to the light

God, I feel like I'm stepping into darkness as I make this trip. My heart's cry is that the step will be on that is closer to You.

to us who are being saved...

The "watchword for the week" from the Moravians arrived in my email this morning and grabbed at me.

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1:18

God has been speaking to me about the power found in the suffering Christ lately. The messiness and beauty that it contains. And I have met those who have dismissed this aspect - who have denied the messiness of Christ's life in order to continue to live their day to day lives without acknowledging that God can be found in the messiness that they encounter in themselves or in others.

But to me, it has been an incredible release to realize the messiness of Jesus life - the messiness that culminated in his execution as a criminal - the messiness that means He bore the weight of my own messiness in order that I can be redeemed and changed. "...to us who are being saved it is the power of God." YES!

An obvious confession

Some bloggers I know are really good at only talking about God stuff - theology, what God has recently been doing in their life, things God is speaking to them and others, challenges, stuff they're reading in Scripture. I have a confession to make. It's a fairly obvious one if you've hung around my blog at all. I am not one of those bloggers.

I do like to talk about God stuff. In fact, my life is so shaped at the moment by the God stuff that I can hardly help but talk about it. The thing is, every once in a while I need a break from the headier stuff, and need to just talk about my day.

So, here it is. Yesterday was a good day. It was a nothing sort of day. I've had a lot of those this week since I haven't had any hours at work. But yesterday was a particularly good example of one. (A friend emailed me a month or so ago and spoke very strongly to me that I needed to find ways to relax and destress other than writing. Incidentally, I've had very few work hours since then and have had lots of chances to practice what she was telling me!) I was tired, and unsettled, because of the sleep issues I mentioned when I posted yesterday, but that didn't really affect my day too drastically because I didn't need physical energy for anything in particular. (On a side note, I slept very poorly again last night, and I do need energy today, but that's a whole different thing.)

I got up in the morning, realized there was no particular reason for me to be up, and crawled back into bed with a novel. I read for a while, and then my mom came home and handed me an envelope from my nana. Nana is my adopted grandmother - a fun British lady who has attended my dad's church for years, and lives across the back alley from our house. She had sent me a note, and a cheque for my Mexico trip, but had forgotten to sign the cheque. So, I got out of bed and got dressed, phoned her and popped over to her house. We had a great visit. I love hanging out with her. She may be the coolest elderly lady I know!

I came home, decided to go back to my novel - only in the bathtub this time. So, I ran a hot bath, and read my novel for another hour or so in the tub. This is also one of my favorite ways to pass an hour or so. I'm a sucker for anything warm - you will rarely find me curled up to read without a blanket wrapped around me, or a hot bath in which to immerse myself, or without being curled up in my bed.

After reading I decided I'd better fulfill a promise I made to my mom to bake something this week. So, I made chocolate chip cookies. Fantastic.

While I was baking a friend called and asked me if I wanted to hang out with her. She was going to a Christian bookstore and wondered if I'd like to meet her there. I'd been thinking that a trip to the bookstore was in order to buy something to read on the bus to Mexico, and quickly agreed. We passed a solid hour and a bit in the bookstore, with the love that only two readers and writers can have for that kind of pastime. We handed books back and forth, were slightly catty as we discussed the overabundance of titles on topics that seemed to be straightforward, laughed at some truly bad merchandise (The Praise Workout DVD - The Christian Alternative to Yoga - I'm not kidding, that's what it said on the case!), and then decided that coffee was in order. But, it was Friday night, and the coffee houses were busy, so we went to the lounge of a local restaurant, had dinner, and talked about how God had showed up in unique ways in both of our lives lately. We share a mutual healing of depression that continues to amaze both of us.

I came home, did a little blogging, a little more reading, finished my novel, started a new one, ate some cookies, and headed for bed.

This is my kind of day - warm, inviting, filled with good pastimes and good friends. And really, when I think about it, it was a God kind of day. I spent a lot of time with Him - asking some questions that my novel raised. I worshipped Him along with a CD while I did my baking. And then I shared the things He's doing in my life, and listened to the things he's doing in my friend's life over dinner. It was good.

Now if only I could figure out how to start sleeping restfully...

Provision and sleeplessness

I am a pastor's kid. My dad does not pastor a mega-church, and he's not a best-selling author or radio preacher. That means that I grew up in a home where finances were always tight.

But the thing is, I learned early on about Jehovah Jireh - God the provider. My parents were always clear when unexpected money showed up at just the right time, or when an unexpected gift allowed us to do something special that it was God's way of taking care of us, of treating us, of making sure we were provided for.

I have seen it dozens of times, and I always forget it. It didn't even occur to me in all my blustery financial stress last week that God would provide above and beyond my expectations for this trip to Mexico. But He did. First, my glasses were repairable - for only $100. My frame is three years old, but by some miracle they hadn't been discontinued, and I was able to replace only the broken piece.

Then, a variety of people I never expected to offer their financial support gave me money or let me know that they would be giving me money. Some of them were people I hadn't even thought or intended to ask to pray, never mind contribute financially. And God has provided above and beyond what I could have asked or expected. And I was amazed, because I had forgotten yet again that the God I serve, the God who asked me to travel to Mexico, would also provide the means for me to obey.

Which brings me to the sleeplessness. I haven't slept well at all the last couple nights. If you read this blog at all, you know that really isn't that unusual. The thing is, I'm battling anxiety attacks -unexplained fears. That is not normal in my own bed. I had anticipated that this would be a challenge when I travelled - it always is, and I was taking steps to be prepared to ward off the fear while we were travelling. But it has arrived early. Today was very unsettled because of the uncomfortable and undefined fear from which I awoke this morning. Please pray for my sleep over the remaining week until I depart. Pray too for my sleep while we're gone. The thing is, I believe God has called me to this trip, and I'm working to trust him with my whole self - and with my rest. So, I'm asking you to pray for and with me in this.

One week from tonight I will be on a church floor somewhere in Billings, Montana, attempting to sleep. I am excited to make this trip, but very apprehensive as well. Your prayers are coveted.

Looking for wisdom

I’m looking for someone who has walked this way before. Someone with age and the wisdom borne of long years of experience – of trying and failing, of getting back up and trying again.

I’m young and inexperienced. Five months ago some things in my life shifted in a major way, and I’m trying to negotiate this new journey with God. I am desperate to know Him in a deeper way. To learn to recognize His voice and presence. To understand what it means that I’ve encountered the Living Spirit of God and that my life has been totally altered by the encounter.

I am looking to be taught, to be pulled along this journey by someone with experience. And I haven’t found that person. I’m looking for someone radically in love with God. I’m looking for wisdom and encouragement. For someone who will tell me that I haven’t gone crazy.

I want someone to explain this thing to me. To tell me in the moments when I’m completely exhausted from caring so deeply for those God has laid on my heart that I’m not insane for allowing my emotions to become involved.

I’m after someone who can explain spiritual warfare to me. Who can tell me how to recognize attack, and how to fight against it. Who can help me as I wade through the realities of the decidedly evil decisions made by some of those I am caring for. Who can answer questions about nightmares and sleeping difficulties. Who can teach me to combat with God’s help the instinctive fear that seems to control so very much of my life.

I would love for someone to walk through my own wounds with me. To help me identify areas of strength and areas of weakness. To teach me what it means to be emotionally and spiritually healthy.

I am looking for this. And I am afraid of it. I am afraid of my life being exposed. The idea that I am vulnerable to spiritual attack is new, and I struggle with fear already. I am very nearly afraid of beginning to wade into the realities of this new life I find myself living. It terrifies me. It pulls me beyond my much loved comfort zone. But I’m looking for it. Because life the way I used to live – life of hopelessness and depression is no way to live.