Moody Meditations On Middle Age – Pt. 1 – Mediocrity

My 40-something-ish birthday is somewhere close to this date and birthdays should be a time for celebration and reflection. I’m sort of in the mood for both these days. And I’m sort of in the mood for neither.

As I ease into middle age, I feel like I’ve rounded life’s proverbial corner. Old and experienced enough to actually know a bit about life – and old  and experienced enough to know that in reality, I don’t know squat. But here I stand, trying to figure out what it is God wants from me and what it is that I want from Him and life in general.

It is so funny because a few years ago, I would have known the answers to both of those questions. Now, with more years behind me and hopefully more wisdom under my belt, I’m not so sure.

It’s not that I’m any different than I was a while back. If anything, I am more of me and more of who God has made me to be – more sure of who I am, what I can do, what I’m gifted at, more capable with my professional skills, more intellectually aware, more emotionally healthy, more secure and calm, more confident…more in love with Jesus, more cooperative as He moves in the deepest levels of my soul, more in touch with His gentle guiding Hand and Voice. At the same time I am less needy, less moody, less ignorant, less fearful, less angry, less undisciplined…

Surely all this indicates progress. And I’m not blind or ungrateful to my Savior. Of course progress has been made. As one ages, one should mature also. (Although we all know that doesn’t always happen.) I can see I’ve done both. So in that regard, I am celebrating the work Jesus has and is doing in me. I do love Him. Really. I can’t help myself.

Yet…

There is this one thing I’m thinking about these days, a tension between a truth and an illusion and I’m not sure where the line falls in my life. I’m talking about my own mediocrity. Oh, I know all the ‘right’ answers. “God made me special.” “There is no one else on the planet like me.” “If I’d been the only one on the planet, He still would have died for me.” “He has a wonderful plan for my life.” “Following God is a great adventure.” I’ve got just as many hours in the day as the next guy and even more opportunities because of the privileges I’ve been given by birth and socio-economic status. I know I can get out there and make a difference, accomplish great things, yada yada yada.

In spite of what all the Christian and self-help books and conference speakers out there say however, my life is remarkably unremarkable. I am remarkably unremarkable. I am in relationship with an extraordinary God, to be sure, but for my part, I’m pretty average. I live in an average place. My future looks rather average. My abilities – while mine, are still rather average. Really, as far as I can tell, right here and right now – mediocrity is my normal.  What if God’s wonderful plan for me isn’t really all that wonderful, but normal? What if I’ve been made to be a placeholder – one who holds the door open for someone else to get the dramatic, story-filled life that we all seem to feel entitled to? What if I am not the one who gets it myself, but I’m the one who pays for it so someone else can enjoy it?

I guess I’m wondering at what point I just embrace my mediocrity and move on. At what point do I stop striving for a life I’m most likely not going to get and learn to settle in to the life I’ve got? Is this question fatalistic or realistic? Is it giving up or learning to make the best of what’s been handed to me? If life really is what happens while we are making other plans, how do I live the life that is happening around me without sacrificing the plans that have been driving me and leading me to joy all these years?

I’m not sure where this line falls. So, I’m going to spend a few posts and explore some of the thoughts I’m having on middle age and how to do it well. I hope you’ll come along.

Sometimes Mothers Get Crushed – A Very Non-Traditional, Somber and Almost Dark Mother’s Day Post

I was pulling up in our driveway one morning when I saw her. A large box turtle. Since we all enjoy the ‘wild kingdom’ vibe of our yard, I got out to take a photo of her to show the kids for later.  As I got close I noticed. The left corner of her shell had been crushed. Either Jeff or I had run over her on our way out in the darkness of morning. She was now dead.

To make matters worse, several almost-done, but still intact turtle eggs had spilled out.

It was an accident and accidents happen. Nature is cruel. Things die all the time and it is a part of life. I try to guard my heart with these truths whenever I’m faced with the reality of suffering and death – almost always unsuccessfully, as in this case. I was moved. And so sad. I took some time that morning to talk with God about what I’d seen and why I knew it was important for me to stop and pay attention.

I don’t know how turtles do motherhood. Because they are reptiles, I suspect they aren’t too attentive or affectionate. But this mother, because of events beyond her control, would not be there for her babies. She’d been crushed.

And from what I know of people, this happens to us all the time. Oh, the mother may not literally die, but because of an accident, because of events beyond her control, because of sin – either hers or the effects of someone else’s on her life – she’s had a weight land on her that was too heavy to bear. It left her wounded. Damaged. Unable to fully do what her babies needed her to do. And those babies had to learn to fend for themselves way too early, perpetuating the line of wounded mothers into the next generation.

Surely you’ve seen this. Probably experienced it. A mother… in a painful, loveless or soul-killing marriage. Broken in the separation from a destructive man. Supporting something very unhealthy, addictive or secret, and not knowing any alternative. Enduring a life burden that is too much for one person to hold. Carrying pain in verbal silence but screaming it within the quality of her relationships. Suffering from a crippling depression or physical struggle. Damaged by her mother, who was damaged also. Wearing soul wounds from abuse, words, disappointment, neglect, trauma and all the other things that were never meant to happen to us in Eden.

The children of mothers like this know. Because the weight of it has crushed them too.

We so rarely get the mother we want. We only get the mother we’ve got. Making peace with that is a major passage of life. It is a passage many never make.

Motherhood is etched on the hearts of most women, calling to us in a visceral way we cannot fully explain. Yet it is this dynamic, how our woundedness has the capacity to wound our children, that has the potential to make a day like today, one of sorrow and not joy. Of fear. Of regret – either for our mothers, or for our children.

My greatest motherhood fear is damaging my beloved children with my own damage. If there was ever a reason for me to cling for dear life to my Healer, to my Jesus, surely this is it.

“I’m Not Unaffected By This” (Being Human pt. 9)

Recently I was in a conversation with an acquaintance and something happened that caught me off guard. A little background… This person isn’t a long time friend. Our relationship is a relatively new one, so when I talk with him, I am more of an unknown quantity than with y’all who have known me for years, either in person or via blog. And it was a situation where the content of the conversation wasn’t really up to me. It was one of those sort-of-forced-sharing times, where a topic that is deeper than normal small talk comes up.

This particular day, it was safe and it was appropriate, so I decided to go there, to bare something of my soul and share a somewhat complicated story of how God had recently worked in my life. But this time, contrary to my normal modus operandi, I didn’t have all my storytelling ducks in a row. I missed parts and messed up the sequence of events. I talked in sort of a quiet monotone, which is very different from my large group speaking voice. I even looked at some rough notes I had scribbled down and read part of it verbatim. I wasn’t trying to wow him with my story. I wasn’t trying to teach anything. I wasn’t test driving an idea to use in a later teaching time or blog post. I was just taking the opportunity before me to release a little pressure on my soul and communicate from the heart with someone sitting right in front of me, someone who had really asked how I was doing.

After I finished, this acquaintance had a stunned look on his face. Initially, I was very concerned that he was about to reject me or my story. His response landed powerfully on my heart. He said, “Deanna, I’m not unaffected by this.”

As I thought about his meaning, I realized that he had just told me something very important. He was letting me know that my story and my life had power. Its effects were rippling across the table to where he was. It wasn’t that I was trying to do this. It wasn’t that my methods were the most effective. It was that God had inhabited my story and energized it. And when I took a chance to share it, He used it in the life of another.

As a result, I’ve spent some time thinking about the role God plays in our stories. Sometimes we throw our words around as if they aren’t really powerful, as if they were ours to own and control. Yet sometimes God claims what is His – our stories and our words, our personalities and the style in which we talk, and He gives it more power than it has on its own. He applies it to another’s heart. He uses us to affect them.

This is the part of communication that is outside of our control. We can prepare for it. We can pray for it. But we can’t command it to happen. Sometimes God makes our stories more than just OUR stories. Sometimes He reclaims them as HIS stories.

Being human means we have stories. We hear stories. And they affect us. Or not, if we choose to close our hearts down and be unaffected.

Being human means we can choose to enter into this messy part of our humanity with others – by sharing our stories and by opening ourselves up to being affected by their stories. Or not. I am thinking these days about how to allow myself to be affected. And how to be available should God choose to use me to affect others.

Jesus – He Is Killing Me (Jesus pt. 21)

Matt. 16:25 For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.

Is. 44:20 He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him; he cannot save himself, or say, “Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?”

Heb. 12:4  In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.

Rom. 6:11 Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus.

Luke 9:23 And He was saying to them all, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me.

I think Jesus is out to kill me. Or at least do some serious damage. No, now that I think about it, He wants to kill me. Really.

I mean this in the best sense possible that is. I’ve seen Him orchestrate events in my life that have squeezed me till I couldn’t breathe. He’s taken things away from me that I’ve loved so dearly, I couldn’t imagine life with out them. He’s initiated seasons of suffering and sadness that made me question whether I really wanted to finish out this life – or just zone out zombie style and go through the motions till my heart stopped beating, because it already felt dead. I’ve endured Him prying my fingers off things I had a death grip on, ripping the lie out of my right hand; the idol I couldn’t acknowledge with my conscious thoughts, but which I worshipped functionally with my life. And it all hurt so much I thought I would die. Some days I wished I would die.

But in those moments of clarity, when He gives me a window into His purposes in my life, He shows me that all the killing is actually a great act of His love towards me. He is killing that within me that would destroy me. He is killing the sin, the falsely placed affections, the idolatry that leads my heart astray and leaves damage within and around me, the lazy habits that grease the sin-wheels in my life, the ruts I fall into that turn out to be graves with the ends kicked out.

He is like the paramedic who recognizes that someone’s heart is so wounded or has stopped altogether and death is imminent. So he takes powerful, painful electric shocks to that sick and dying heart in order to reset it. To save it from itself. I’m sure someone in the middle of heart failure, who has endured a defibrillator’s shock, would say, “Ow!” But then I think they would say, “Oh my God, thank you for saving my life!”

Sometimes the sanctification process in my life feels like that. Pain. And then gratitude when I realize just what that pain accomplished in my life. Healing from the irregular heartbeat. Freedom from the parasite of sin that was sucking the life out of me – and I never even knew it.

Death leads to life. The great paradox of following Jesus. This Easter season I am learning to embrace my own death. And I am so grateful for it.

Do You Run To Or Away From Burning Buildings? (The Heart pt. 15)

My friends and my companions avoid me because of my wounds. Ps. 38:11

David wrote this verse in the midst of one of his times of trial, identifying a truth about human nature that we still experience today. People tend to avoid people in pain. I realize there are all sorts of extenuating circumstances to this. Some people are so needy they will suck the life out of you if you let them. The boundaries of healthy sharing depend on the level of the relationship and context, and some people overshare to an uncomfortable extreme. And then, some people’s temperaments, compassion levels and communication skills differ. All these lead to understandable defense mechanisms to avoid getting in awkward and potentially dangerous situations. What I think David was referring to however, and what I’ve seen happen in real life is that often, people tend to run from burning buildings, not towards them. Sometimes, even if there is someone they care about in the building.

So I’m left wondering how this is supposed to work in Christian community. Because at some point in our lives, each of us will be that proverbial burning building. Each of us will have those times where things aren’t ok, where the pain level reaches un-hideable limits (side note: that most feel they have to hide their pain within the Christian community is very telling) – and people in the nearby vicinity have a choice to make – either get involved at some level or create safe distance so they don’t have to get involved.

And it seems to me that in a true Christian community, sometimes it should be ok not to be ok. That we should create those places for people to show up just as they are, with all the mess that comes along with that. And those who can and are equipped to do so, should walk alongside those who can’t for a season, till the one in pain has safely begun what is often the long road to recovery. Till the one who is in need has the resources in place to meet their needs as they continue their journey, to wherever it is Jesus is leading. Till they are on their way to being more than just ok, but becoming more like their Healer.

Here’s a truth I’ve learned after a lot of years in discipleship oriented ministries (and just from life in general.) Pain is often the front door Jesus uses to walk into someone’s life, sometimes for the first time and sometimes to drive greater relational depth with those who’ve known Him for years. That means we in the church should figure out how to stand at this doorway too.

Some element of discipleship must include learning to walk out of old things and into new things. And in reality, it is always messier than how books describe it. Ideas eventually slam into people, which always creates mess. And, side note here…I am continually dumbfounded when I meet folks in ministry who love ideas but aren’t as comfortable with people and the mess they bring.

Which leads me to the conclusion that some people, who understand what it could and should look like, have a responsibility to build a community that runs to wounded people (which is all of us) and not away. A community that knows how to begin conversations about pain in a way that lead people to the Healer and towards wholeness. That teaches once-wounded people how to speak to and love now-wounded people and walk with them towards emotional health, maturity and joy in their relationship with Jesus.

 And it isn’t that churches aren’t doing this. I know they are. There is nothing new under the sun. It is just that it feels like something is missing…and I’m wondering how to go about restoring it. What might my role in this be?

Marriage Predictors pt. 7 – Surviving the “Oh My God, Who Are You And What Did You Do With My Spouse?” Moment

I think there comes a moment in everyone’s marriage – usually early on for those with good communication skills, and later on for those who are better at hiding what is actually going on in their heart (my category, by the way) – where you look at your spouse and wonder, “Oh my God, who are you and what did you do with the person I married?”

I’m not talking about the “you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle” argument, or the classic, “Toilet paper should spin from the top, not the bottom of the roll” disagreement that every newlywed has. I’m talking bigger things today. Like:

When they really lose their temper in front of you for the first time and it makes you afraid. When you realize that thing that didn’t really bother you while you were dating really does bother you now that you live with it, and you awaken to the fact that it isn’t going to change. When you catch them using porn on the internet. When you realize what you thought was a bad habit is actually an addiction. When you get that credit card bill for that thing you can’t afford, didn’t want and now are on the hook for. When something from their past pops up that they didn’t disclose to you before the marriage, or you didn’t fully grasp its ability to affect you, and now it is sitting in your lap. When the emotional baggage from their past won’t be suppressed anymore and you begin to realize just how broken by sin they are, and now they are evolving into someone right before your eyes that you aren’t even sure you recognize. When they make a really stupid or selfish mistake and do something, say something that hurts you so badly, different words enter your vocabulary – like betrayal, abandonment and regret. When you start entertaining those thoughts on “What if…”, when you swore you never would.

(This is a discussion where it is really important to realize that if you are pointing a finger at your spouse, you are also pointing three fingers back at yourself. If you are thinking any of these things, I’m pretty sure your partner is having the similar thoughts about you.)

It is usually at that moment, when the new reality begins to set in, that most people begin thinking “Is this marriage thing really permanent?”

When you marry, in front of God and your family and friends, you make unbreakable vows to each other for this very reason. Because if people could get out of marriage, at some time or another, almost everyone would. Sure, people divorce and move on all the time. But make no mistake, when you break your marriage vows, you also break the people who made them.

The marriage predictor I am talking about today (the character qualities, behavior patterns and practices that bend a relational trajectory towards a loving, stable relationship – or not) is your decision to stand and work and fight for your marriage and not run when this first happens. And I’m pretty sure this moment happens to everyone. Because most of us have bought into the lie that marriage is about making us happy – and when it doesn’t, we begin thinking about how to bail. At some point in the relationship, most likely you will be faced with the temptation to leave – either physically or emotionally. And when you decide to honor your vows, to stay, even when everything in you is screaming, “Get me out of here!”, you set your relationship on a trajectory that leads to a very promising place. 

Learning to do this, early in the marriage, to stay in, all in, both emotionally and physically, is a learned skill. And learning to do it from the get-go…I can’t really think of a stronger predictor of one’s ability to do it later, when the stakes just might get exponentially higher. Committing to the energy it requires to work through those “Oh my God…” moments early on in your marriage teaches you that you can survive them, and that you can work together through whatever will come up later. And just a bit of truth for all the young couples out there…there is always something else that will come up later. And later, it is almost always something much more complicated (which is code for ‘painful’).

So young couples – talk to each other about this. Make it part of your relational vocabulary. And decide together that you both will survive these early challenges and come out on the other side, more invested in and more committed to the success of your marriage than before.

Here is a link to an interview from the world’s oldest living couple, married over 85 years!

(This post isn’t meant as a critique of anyone’s marriage, broken or damaged – it is meant as a springboard for discussion and prayer. I’ve heard from some of my readers that this series has been painful to read. Please know, I totally get how tough marriage is and can be. I am writing from a place of great compassion for you.)

Jesus – He Does Grief (Jesus pt. 17)

Heb. 4:15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are–yet was without sin.

As I walk with Jesus down the road of sanctification, becoming more like Him from the inside out, I’m finding that sometimes it is a very sad one. Like most journeys it contains beautiful new relationships, new adventures, new experiences and the creation of wonderful memories. But certain twists in the road have led to heartbreaking goodbyes to things, people and places in life that I loved. They have led me to a different and new me, when I was actually pretty comfortable with the old one. Jesus has led me into and through a grief that is almost impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t walked the same road.

Recently I was remembering how simple my life was before…

He crashed in and demanded access to areas of my heart I didn’t even know were there. The locks on those areas were so old and rusted that opening them broke everything around them. Some days, my heart physically hurt as a result.

He shattered my youthful dreams of the life I thought I was going to have with two miscarriages back to back, leading me to the season when I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk with Him anymore.

He ran me headlong into a wall of spiritual exhaustion coming from working for Him rather than relating to Him, stopping my life in its tracks. My heart was broken as He opened my eyes to how far I’d drifted from loving Him into just serving Him.

He took me out of America long enough to totally wreck my world view, showing me how so many of my cultural assumptions were just that, cultural. And sin. Then He led me to come back and live in America again, with this new knowledge. It was one of the saddest experiences of my life.

He gave me a taste of life on the mission field, living so dependently on Him to provide that I opened the door to His working great miracles in my life and ministry. Then He led me back to the suburbs where I could functionally live my life for weeks without Him and not even notice. And in some ways I found it is harder to live here than there.

He changed me so profoundly that there have been seasons of my life where I literally could not explain to others how I felt or what was going on in my heart. And the loneliness was so unexpectedly painful that I agonized in prayer for Him to send me someone, anyone I could talk to, who might understand.  And He said no, because He wanted me to learn to relate to Him first and primarily.

He pried my hands off of a dream I was holding onto more tightly than Him. And He made me watch Him kill it for my own good, so there was no returning to the Egypt where I was a slave.

While on the mission field, I missed the last three years of my mom’s life as she struggled with what we thought was a recoverable cancer. She died 2 weeks after our return home. I now live in her house, with the daily reminders of her presence and absence in my life.

What to make of a God who walks me (and us) into and through grief? Sadness. Sometimes crushing depression at the realization of the weight of the losses. Relational stress. Loneliness. Deep disappointment at how things play out.

I don’t claim to understand why God chooses to do this and not do that, to give here but take away there. I do know this however: Jesus understands grief. He knows just how complicated it can be. He’s walked through its intricacies, been blasted with its cacophonic melody, let the pain of it rise in lament and weeping till nothing was left but … His Father.  Like Him, if I let my pain lead me like a compass, turning my heart and life towards Him, following wherever He leads, the most amazing thing happens. I get more of Him.

Let me say that again – when I walk with Jesus into my grief, pouring out my heart to Him in deep honesty, and do what I know to do to cling to His hand and stay next to His side, some how, I get more of Him. Grief gives me more of Him. And I can’t fully explain it to anyone who hasn’t walked this way, but He is always enough. He is always enough.

Jesus pt. 7 – Sometimes Following Him Is A Round Trip

Jesus is a puzzling sort. He says “Follow me,” over 20 times in the Gospels. He says in Is. 43:9 “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”

Sometimes we think following Him means new. Onward. Different. (I blogged about this just last week.) Yet sometimes the way forward with Him leads backwards for a season.

Let me illustrate.

No matter how great your dad was, I bet many of you have daddy issues. I know this because no dad is as perfect as our Heavenly Father. And no matter how aware of this we are, we still, at some point or another, view God through our “daddy lenses”. We expect Him to treat us like our dad did. Not in every case, but sometimes…too busy. Emotionally unavailable. Scary. Absent. Trying hard but still coming up short. Selfish. Couldn’t read our minds when we needed him to. We all think God is someone He isn’t based on our experiences, even if we don’t consciously say it with words. And before we can move forward, sometimes we have to learn to resolve some things from our past.

Let’s be honest. Few of us escaped childhood unscathed. Stuff happens. Painful stuff. Sometimes truly traumatic stuff. And we believe all sorts of things as a result.  ”If I had been a better child mom and dad would still be together,” or “Jesus must not love me if He let this happen to me,” or “My problems are bigger than His power. Or His compassion,” or “I should be afraid of Him, if He let this happen.” Or, “What else might be coming down the road for me if this was His opening act in my life?” You get the point. While none of those things are true, many of us functionally live our lives and relate to God as if they were.

And Jesus loves us too much to let this kind of stuff remain unresolved. To let lies like these linger. So sometimes when He says, “Follow me,” we can’t go forward till we go back for a season.

Funny how at Christmastime, where I am celebrating in the hometown I never planned to return to, I’m thinking about this. Why has Jesus led me backwards when all I ever wanted was to follow Him forward? How have I been,  for years, viewing Him through the lens of my life experience instead of who He really is? What do He and I need to talk about regarding the past in order to be free to move forward with Him?

Thoughts On Job – Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

“But he stands alone, and who can oppose him? He does whatever he pleases. He carries out his decree against me, and many such plans he still has in store. That is why I am terrified before him; when I think of all this, I fear him. God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me.” Job 23:13-15

Job, I am with you on this. God scares the bejeebies out of me too. 

How to relate to a God who holds all the power, meaning I am utterly helpless before Him? Who is under no obligation to explain Himself or His plans to me? Who has demonstrated that there are times when He chooses not to intervene and allows really, really bad things to happen? Even to those He says He loves? To Job? To me?

Years ago, while driving in the car, we heard our 5-year-old son in the backseat start crying. When we asked him what was wrong he said, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of God. He’s going to eat me.”

Context: we had recently been talking a lot with him about how big God is, about how powerful He is, about how omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent…you get the picture. And my little theologian did the math and figured out that a really really big God like that meant he was really really small. So he was afraid. Very afraid.

Fortunately for us, our 4-year-old daughter was also in the car at the time and she just laughed. “Jeffrey,” she said, “God’s not going to eat you. He’s good.” Out of the mouths of babes.

Yes, we all know God is good. But some days the words of Job and my son speak something very deep and true from my heart – I’m afraid that God is going to eat me. I am afraid of God. There, I said it. 

Not exactly the Sunday School answer you were expecting, huh? In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve got teeth marks in my backside from whole seasons of my life where He’s nibbled and chewed on me pretty good. And there are times when what I feel overpowers what I know…when my circumstances scream contrary things to what my faith whispers… When my God is absolutely terrifying. And my heart is faint within me.

No wonder God says over and over again, “Fear not.” “Do not be afraid.” “Be strong and courageous.” Of course our natural reaction to Him should contain a good dose of healthy fear. Respect. Worship. He’s in charge. We are not. That is the beautiful order of things. I get it.

But the real question, the one I’m wrestling with, is how do I take commands like that – that sound so easy in theory and make for really pretty  songs to sing on Sunday - and let them actually comfort my broken, fearful heart the rest of the week?

How do I learn to love a God who makes me tremble?

Random Life Lessons With Deanna pt. 4 – Pain Is Never Convenient

I think I broke my pinky toe the other day. I slammed it into a suitcase that I had left in a walk way. Totally my fault. And totally inconvenient.

My broken toe. Amazing how something so small makes such a big impact. The photo doesn't do the bruising justice, by the way.

It has swelled up and parts of it are turning lovely shades of purple and pink and grey. Nice.

If you keep up with this blog, you just read that I am in the middle of training (trying to train anyway) for a longer race in the next few months. This injury means more pain for me. And it comes at a very inconvenient time. But really, when is pain convenient? When do we ever have the emotional margin, extra time and energy to say, “Hey, now would be a great time for a crisis?”

I am learning that pain management and healing takes place in the spaces of my present life. Sometimes whatever my issue is demands a bit more than I was prepared to give it.  While I didn’t see a jammed toe coming, I am learning to intentionally create margins so that I have room to handle the unexpected. This means that now I need a bit more rest than I had planned. I’ll be experiencing a bit more pain than I would like. I’m finding that this whole thing really isn’t very convenient.

What a metaphor for what life throws at us.

So, how do I deal with injuries while the rest of my complicated life doesn’t stop? A broken toe is an interesting thing. Small as it is, it will not be denied. How I walk has been affected. It doesn’t really matter that now is not a good time, now is when I have to take care of it.  I must give it attention.

What is it in your life that isn’t convenient, but won’t be denied? How will you calendar the emotional and relational time to take care of it?

Just Saying No

Psalm 101:3 I will set before my eyes no vile thing.

Job 31:1 I made a covenant with my eyes…

I remember watching a particularly sad episode of CSI years ago, dealing with a child’s death. Some of the visuals and dialogue turned my stomach and caused me to lose sleep. After it was over, I turned off the tv and said, “I’m done.” I haven’t watched an episode since.

Parents can testify just how difficult it is to imagine or visualize terrible things happening to children. Jeff and I can hardly stand to watch the evening news or surf the internet for fear of running across articles and stories that make us think, “Oh Lord, not our kids.” Our hearts are tender now in a way that we never could have imagined in our youth.

My point isn’t that CSI or tv is bad. That particular experience pressed on my heart how our culture has taken the gruesome, the violent, that which is definitely abnormal and harmful, and made it entertainment. I wonder just how that happened and who thought it would be fun to watch suffering up close and personal.

It isn’t that I don’t enjoy a murder mystery or a crime drama. It isn’t that I’m running from culture and sticking my head in the sand. Believe me, in my line of work, I see plenty of suffering up close and personal. It is just that seeing certain things and indulging particular thoughts makes my heart hurts sometimes. Certain visuals and stories do more than just enter my brain. They become part of the permanent collection of memories. Once in there, I can never get them out. They haunt me and rob me of sleep and peace. They disturb deeply. Things like this cannot be entertainment for me.

So where violence is concerned, I’ve chosen to self-censor. I just say no.
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What In The World Is My Problem pt. 6 – I’m A Hater

(I’m not blogging from my happy place right now. Read with a grain of salt, and check back with me in a few days. I hope to have a serious attitude adjustment on the way.)

I hate living in the suburbs. No, really. I just got back from Costco. I hate it. I hate that my culture centers around consumption. And lots of consumption. I hate that my wonderfully comfortable big house, nestled away in a great neighborhood forces me to drive everywhere. I hate that all the nice things I own require more of my time and energy to maintain them. I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate carpool line for the kids, which forces me to spend almost 2 hours a day in the car, not including any other errands I might have. I hate that the people of my nation, as a general rule, are so overweight, out of shape and spoiled that they are incapable of effectively channeling to others the blessings God has so richly poured out on them. I hate that the most meaningful conversations I was able to have during the week, not including my family and old friends, involve “Hey, how are ya and did your team win this past Saturday?”

I hate that I didn’t choose to live here, that I had a radically different plan for my life in mind and yet here I am. I hate that I wrestled with God about His will for my life and lost resoundingly.

As a result, I hate that my heart feels flat, like a full balloon that just got stomped on by someone in Doc Martins. I hate that I’m not overflowing with gratitude at the life God has given me, when I can clearly see that it is a good one with much potential and blessings in it. I hate that I spend so much time looking over the fence at how other people get to live their lives and wondering why that isn’t me. I hate that I feel like God is punishing me when I know that isn’t the case – at how lies I know aren’t true still grab hold of my weakened heart and roar through until I struggle to hear God speaking. I hate how I’ve responded to not getting my way and what it has revealed about my character, at how I can painfully see just how far I have to go in my journey towards spiritual maturity. I hate how I know I’ve got the choice to choose joy, to choose to make the most of the situation here and some days I can’t control the depth of hate I feel at being here. I hate that I find myself, in my really honest moments, using this word ‘hate’ so often. I would much rather be a chipper, bubbly, happy person and I hate that it seems so far out of reach some days.

I hate how this very honest (perhaps too honest) blog entry makes me look. Sort of like when you try on a dress and ask, “Does this dress make me look fat?” And the honest answer is, “No, the dress doesn’t make you look fat. That would be your backside doing that.” If I were to ask,”Does this blog entry make me look like a spiritual train wreck?”, the honest answer would be, “No, Deanna,  that would be your heart.”

I know how I feel is the incorrect filter with which to view my situation. When I go to the Bible and review God’s truth: I know He loves me, has a good plan for me, that He knows what He is doing and that He will work all things out not just for my good, but for His glory, which, of course is the ultimate good. I know I’ve been blessed beyond measure materially and I’m not ungrateful for what I have and have been given. I also know I am right where I am supposed to be right now, that I am right in the middle of His will for my life. I know that the battle raging in my heart and spirit is actually bringing about much healing and greater intimacy with my God as He and I talk about some truly important things in my life. I know I am moving in God’s direction and not away from Him through all of this. And I am not always so unhappy – most of my days here are previews of great joy just around the corner.

I just hate that there is so much hate floating around in my heart right now. I hate how I have to struggle with such ferocity some days to hold the truth front and center in my life. I hate that sanctification is just so dang hard. I wish that letting God’s peace and contentment settle deep down in my soul were an easier proposition, and not such a battle that fuels such emotion in my heart. Yeah, I just wish I weren’t such a hater.

Thoughts On Contentment

While I was at the women’s retreat in Berlin this summer (click here for the story), we spent Saturday afternoon enjoying a picnic and the best weather a German summer day has to offer. It was really great. Great food, great conversation, great sunshine – you name it, it was great. But it was sort of humorous to me when

Picnic with the ladies where really good questions came up.

several of the girls wanted to ask me questions about…well, stuff. Random stuff. Spiritual stuff. Wife and mom stuff. The questions weren’t so humorous but that honestly, anyone else would really care about my opinion. But ask they did, so I did my best to answer.

One question in particular haunted me – in a good way. Someone asked me, “How do you experience contentment in any and every situation, regardless of what is going on in your life?” Now I ask you, how would you like to be asked that question? Those who know the answer have probably published best selling books…aaaaaaannnnnnddddddd….that’s so not me.  I remember my stomach dropping as I thought about it and realized, I didn’t have a very good answer.

So I did what teachers often do when they don’t know what to say. I started talking anyway. Actually, I thought about Paul since he said, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation…” Phil 4:12 First of all, can you imagine being able to actually say such a thing with a straight face? Second, FYI – if you don’t know the answer to a question, starting with the Bible and godly examples are good places to begin.

Then as I talked a bit, I remembered that in 2 Cor. 11 Paul lists all he’s been through in his life as a follower of Christ. If you haven’t read this, you really should. Shipwrecked. Three times. Beaten with rods and with the lash. Multiple times. Stoned. Prison. Hunger. Thirst. Nakedness. Betrayal from all corners. Exhaustion. Can we just go back to that shipwrecked three times thing again? Really?

And it occurred to me that Paul learned the secret of being content by walking through long and difficult seasons of discontent. In other words, the secret of contentment is intricately intertwined with discontentment. He confirms what we all already know – that contentment is for those who have fought for it. For those who have let the pressure of their external circumstances produce spiritual fruit in their internal condition.

Because we all also already know that contentment isn’t really about external circumstances. How else do you explain unhappiness among the wealthy, sadness in suburbia, self-esteem issues among beautiful people, etc. Those who seemingly have all the world has to offer still know deep in their souls that what is on the outside is just that. Outside. It is the inside and in our hearts where our lives are changed.

Contentment is a heart issue. Therefore the secret to learning contentment lies in letting God change our hearts. Sometimes the pain of discontent is the only tool that will do the job.

What In The World Is My Problem pt 2 – Backwards or Full Circle?

As I’ve been thinking about what my problem is, (This is part 2 in a series. Click here for pt one.) about why I’m such a mess right now in this season of life, I can’t help but think I’m going backwards. I’ve moved back to the city I lived in almost 17 years ago, near where my family lives now. Honestly, it wasn’t the move I wanted to make. I wanted to move far, far away to a different adventure, one of my choosing. Yet here I am. Back in a place and house I never wanted to return to. Not because this is such a bad place. It is actually quite nice with a lot to offer and I’m very grateful to be here. It just wasn’t what I had planned.

It’s just that I can’t help but feel some days like I’m moving backwards. In my mind, I always saw the trajectory of my life shooting me farther and farther away from where I came from. I am not the same person I was so many years ago. I don’t want the same things I used to. And if you’d asked me a few years ago where I thought I’d be at 40 something years old, where I am now was no where on that list. Yet here I am.

So I’m having to think through this question, “Am I moving backwards? Or is this moving full circle?” It is one thing to become the person God wants you to be in the environment of your choosing. It is another to carry Christ with your very body to those places that challenge you to the core, where you would rather some one else go. Sometimes the way forward is actually backwards for a season. And there can be great beauty in a story that actually concludes where it begins, rather than just ending somewhere else.

Maybe God is telling me that it is time for me to stop moving away and to start letting Him move – in to places in my heart I’d rather just keep closed. Maybe the only way to open those doors to those innermost places of my heart is to stop my body from moving for a while. To plant myself in those places where my heart does really odd, funny things, like it used to when I was younger, wounded, immature and an even bigger mess than I am right now. When we can both see those odd, funny things together, God and I can work together to clean up the mess that maybe, I was trying to run away from.

I guess part of the difference between the mess I was then and the mess I am now is that back then, I was a clueless mess. I had no idea just what a huge mess I was and just how desperately I needed God’s help. Now, I am clearly aware of my messiness and all that means for me. And oh, how I need Him! I’m starting to realize that here, in this present place, I need Him more than I ever have. I can see how God just might want to use my neediness, my problem if you will, for my good. To give me more of Him, which of course would solve my problem.

And maybe, just maybe, in a few years, I’ll see how this full circle thing was one of the best things to ever happen to me.

What In The World Is My Problem? pt. 1 – I’m New

I’ve been asking myself recently, “What in the world is my problem?” Where to start, really. I’m a big hot boiling cauldron of neurosis, insecurities, life stressors and conflicting emotions – and have been for years. In short, I’m a mess. Which shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me… But right now, in this season of life, I’ve taken my messiness to whole new levels, atmospheric levels even. And I’ve been spending some time trying to figure out why.

One reason is that I am experiencing the really common phenomenon of being new. I live in a new house. A new city. The kids are in new schools. We are trying to find a new church. I’ve got to shop at new stores in new locations, drive new streets, develop new rhythms and routines for our family as we all cope with our collective newness. Every day there is something new to learn, to figure out, to accomplish. And everyday I feel like I’m walking upstream in hip deep cold water.

Today’s challenge was dropping my daughter off at her new school. Evidently there is a set way to drive in and drive out. Evidently everyone else knows exactly what that set way is. Evidently there is a big communication gap between those who know what is going on and those who are new.

This week I had to navigate a whole new system of getting my kids checked in to their new church activities. And evidently no one has really given any thought to making the process easier for those who are new and don’t know what is going on.

With all three kids in three different schools we are having to try and learn three different styles of schooling, adapt to three different time schedules, figure out three different parental expectations on what I’m supposed to be doing as the supportive and involved mom…

And I’m just really tired of all the newness. Oh, I thrive on change. I love a challenge. I know there is concentrated energy around something that is new and shiny. And those who know me know that I would move again tomorrow if God gave the green light. But after so many months of this, especially a lot of newness I didn’t ask for, want or appreciate, I’m just tired.

So I’m going to go now and try to organize my office. Maybe paint some window trim. Maybe fold some laundry and try to bring order to the chaos that is our living situation. And I know that if I keep on plugging away at it and don’t quit, one day it won’t be so new.

Let The Healing Begin

So I sprained my ankle in Berlin a little over a week ago.  Did I mention in my previous post that it was pretty bad? (If you haven’t read the laugh riot, you really should. Scroll down or click here.) Cause if I didn’t, I’d like to go on record right now that it was a pretty bad sprain. I realized just how bad last night as I was looking at it, a week later and saw it was still swollen. A lot. And it still hurt me. A lot. But since that injury, I just have not had any time to take care of it.

Fortunately for me, at the retreat, there was a practicing medical doctor (shout out to my personal physician Dani:).

Everyone should have their own personal physician. Here's mine.

I knew last Friday evening as I hobbled in to the youth hostel that I needed some medical care. My body was telling me it was wounded. And I loved how she cared for me, even touching my distorted, swollen, oddly green and blackish ankle to see just how it felt. And her advice for me was, “Are you sure you don’t want to go get an x-ray?” Obviously that was smart advice. Obviously, caution was called for and the professional was saying, “Really Deanna, you should take care of that.” And obviously I’m a a terrible patient.

No doctor can make a patient receive their care. Honestly, I COULD NOT GO TO A HOSPITAL right then. I was set to speak at a retreat about two hours from that moment, a retreat many women had traveled to from England, Norway and several corners of Germany. A retreat I had been preparing for literally for months. I had to be there. Well, I’m sure they would have waited for me, but I REALLY WANTED TO BE THERE and not at a hospital. I didn’t want to risk someone else forcing me to miss the time with my beloved German friends that is so rare and so valuable to me.

My doctor’s recommendation was to rest it, elevate it and to put ice on it. The first two suggestions were out of the question for the same reason that I couldn’t go to the hospital. It was ‘go’ time for me and I had to be on my feet. And then I ask you, have you ever tried to find ice in Germany? I didn’t even know where to start or where to ask for ice to cool my ankle.

So I made a conscious decision. I decided to delay treatment of my problem. I decided to work with the pain, to risk a delay in my healing and to keep walking till I couldn’t walk any more. Even as my ankle throbbed and swelled. Even as my doctor looked at me with concern and advised me differently. Even as I knew my decision just might cost me later.

And I’m writing this one week later, it is the first night since that I’ve been able to rest my ankle, elevate it and put ice on it since I hurt it. And it feels better. The swelling has gone down. And I’m sort of kicking myself for not taking better care of myself. (Well, I’m not literally kicking myself, since I’ve got a sprained ankle – and that would hurt too much. But I digress…)

Oh, I see all sorts of spiritual applications. We all have issues. Those things in our hearts and lives that we know are hurt or hurt us, that we know are injured and will require dedicated time and effort to heal. Those things we’ve probably received advice on how to handle, yet we still make the conscious decision to do something different. Maybe it isn’t the right time. Maybe we are too busy and have too many important things in front of us to slow down. Maybe we can manage, putting some coping strategies in place. Maybe we are hoping it will go away or get better on its own.

But most deep things of the soul don’t go away. They may get submerged for a while under the urgency of now and the distractions of the present. But they will always pop back to the surface at some point. Usually when it is very inconvenient.  I am now learning this the hard way.

May I encourage you today to do something? If God is stirring something in your soul, if He is pressing on an area of your heart and whispering something like, “This is hurt, it needs attention,” then don’t stay busy. Don’t put it and Him off. Don’t insist you are too busy. Do what He says. And let the healing begin.

Counting Broken Hearts

Ps. 34:18 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Ps. 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

I was thinking today about how many times my heart has been broken. There were the general childhood things that most people experience, that left me with a limp I couldn’t recognize myself till I began to see how other people in the world were walking. Then there was the boy who I thought  at one point I might marry who said such hurtful things to me well after he needed to, just to let me know he was THE MAN who didn’t need this little girl. Then there were the two miscarriages that left me so wounded  and feeling kicked in the gut, grieving over the loss of life inside of me and the life I thought I was going to get, that I didn’t think I’d be able to breath or walk without doubling over or ever be whole again. Then there were the series of profound disappointments that came later, when I realized that life can be really, really painful, from the most unexpected corners – and evidently I’m not going to get the life I wanted, dreamed of or had been actively planning for myself for years, that left me wondering just who this God was that I’d spent the better part of my adult life following. And everyone, everyone has to deal with certain relationships that they can’t get away from, that chronically drain, wound, ruin and it doesn’t matter how many times you tell yourself you’ll keep your expectations really low, they still manage to get under your skin and slam you right where it hurts the most because they’ve hurt you there so many times before.

So, how many times has my heart been really, truly broken, where strangers in the street could’ve heart the crack and shattering, where it was beyond just the normal everyday life management in a sin-wrecked world? I counted today. Even though I share parts of these stories occasionally during teaching times, when I feel Jesus leading me to, when He tells me He gave me these stories to point to how amazing and close He is in the midst of my pain, how He uses them for good I never would have seen coming but am now so thankful for and how He can do the same for others, my number is going to stay private for a little while.