overcoming anxiety, one attempt

Heavy heart, tightened stomach, today was a day of anxiety. It seems I often have the most anxiety over the small things, collected.

Little mountains of stress like pestilent anthills form until there are too many to manage.

I am no longer in control, or feel that I am. Soon, all my eyes see are the anthills. Reality begins to slither away and my stomach tightens and head aches. I'm not in control. A feeling of fear overcomes ... and then, hopefully, eventually, relief.

I realize I never was nor should be in control. At least not to the extent that I believe I should be. Loosening my grip on the reigns of my life isn't easy nor is it simple to let go and somehow will my stomach to untighten or my head to stop pounding, but the symptoms ease as truth sets in and the Lord gently removes the reigns from my hands, saying "I'll take these." (I can imagine him slightly, kindly and cheerfully, snickering, "You never had them in the first place" as a way of comic relief). 

Tonight, may the Lord grant me peace as my mind attempts to grasp that He has everything under His control. 

 

Drop Your still dews of quietness,

Till all our strivings cease:

Take from our souls the strain and stress;

And let our ordered lives confess

The beauty of Your peace.

Breathe through the pulses of desire

Your coolness and Your balm;

Let sense be mum, its beats expire:

Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire,

O still small voice of calm!

—   L.B. Cowman

Blessings to you and yours this evening.

What or who are your anthills? What do you need from God this evening? How do you feel asking the Lord for something?

*Photo taken on Maui in Summer 2011.

they told me i was crazy

If I were going to Europe, it would seem slightly more understandable. But no, I was about to embark on a three-week solitude retreat without technology, friends or leisure reading material. I was spending my entire vacation and travel savings on quiet and less than luxurious surroundings in Washington state. 

I was scared they were right.

I was about to spend two of the most precious equities of our day: time and money. Without any guarantee it would be worth the risk.

I decided to go anyway.

Two weeks before I left, my mind was racing.

What if I hadn’t discerned correctly? What if this was a waste of time? What if my travel savings would be used on a miserable experience … when I could have gone to Europe?!?

The questions were endless, sometimes leading into panic. “What if I, I … I?”

All of my questions surrounded this one letter, a pronoun — me. I was concerned about my time and money. My energy. Me. Somehow I had forgotten the original purpose of this three-week solitude retreat. I had forgotten that it was about what God wanted to do. That it wasn’t for me. (In our culture this is practically a sin.)

It was for God. For us — my relationship with Him.

Moreso, I had forgotten who He is — loving, kind, merciful, purposeful. Could I really think that God would use time and resources on something pointless? Why not prompt me to use this money elsewhere?

I realized I was asking the wrong questions — questions I was taught to ask.

The lies of our society entangled myself in the awe of time and money — that time and money had a higher value than trust in God and stepping out in faith.

The lies of perfectionism and productivity were wrapped into these dirty little fears and doubts. This trip must be productive in some way or else it isn’t worth it. What will people think of me? The lies of our society entangled my trust in God.

Slowly, but steadily I began to turn my questions around. What if God uses this trip for His good? What if God has been calling me to this trip? How will God work on this trip? If I’m this deep in, God must be up to something.

I’m not sure how I would have reacted had I returned and decided it wasn’t worth it, but I don’t think that’s how God works. I’m positive that years later, I would discover the benefits of stepping out in faith, defying societal and cultural standards, denouncing the power of a guarantee on my investments and giving up some of my most precious equities of time and money to His use. The practice of surrendering alone can bring one to new heights in their relationship with the Lord, whether immediate grief or joy follows.

For me, I knew within the first few days that surrendering to whatever God had for me on this trip was worth it, but it took years to get there. One year later, I’m still unpacking the goodness of God from those three weeks alone with Him and I'm positive that will be the case for the rest of my life.

Where is God calling you to step out in faith during this season of your life?

I'd love to hear what you think about stepping out in faith and how society impacts our daily choices, even in following God. Join the conversation and leave a comment below.

*Photo taken on my three-week retreat in Gig Harbor, Washington. Summer 2012.

look and listen

Lately, I've had too many words. As a verbal processor, my words often tumble out too fast. My lips are loose with canons. Sometimes, fireworks — colorful, good, joyful. Sometimes, otherwise. There are days like today where it is better to stop talking, stop writing. And, to look and listen. 

So I invite you to pause. To look and listen. And today, as John Muir recommends, keep close to nature's heart.

Look and listen today. What may God have for you in pausing?

*Photos taken on a day trip to Big Bear in May 2013.

flourless chocolate cake

What if God’s love was like flourless chocolate cake? Delicious, desirable, rich, full-bodied like good wine, and nearly too good to be true — so good that we often can’t finish the slice of cake. You want to keep eating it forever and ever because in those seconds when the chocolate reaches your taste buds, everything is right with the world.

The richness absorbs our taste buds and bodies and souls for the moments we savor it.

And it leaves us in awe. The glory of flourless chocolate cake is that it nearly forces us to slow down — to reflect on how good that one bite was and how enticing another bite will be. The richness causes us to slow and prepare ourselves for a second bite.

What if God’s love was like flourless chocolate cake?

How enticing that would be … what if God’s love is like flourless chocolate cake?

Rich and full-bodied love that absorbs our bodies, minds and souls to the point that we must pause and reflect on its goodness. To the point that we irrevocably desire another portion.  To the point that we desire nothing else. In that moment, the only thing we want is more cake, but we realize we are also filled.

Our desire for more is recognizant of the fact that we are already filled — the love has already absorbed us and will not reach a point in which there will not be enough love.

Here’s the ironic truth in this: the glory in savoring a slice — or even just a bite — of flourless chocolate cake doesn’t compare to the glory of enjoying the richness of God’s love.

Can you enjoy the richness of God’s love like we enjoy a slice of flourless chocolate cake?

Will you allow God to love you to the point in which you cannot desire anything else?

Absorption is the fact or state of being engrossed in something. To be absorbed isn’t simply a verb or an action, but it is a state of being. This is recognizant of how worship doesn’t end at church doors. God’s love doesn’t end at church doors either. Or sin or hurt or grief or joy or happiness.

To absorb is to take in or soak up and/or be captivated by something. Could God’s love be so good that it could engross our attention?

Like the flourless chocolate cake which makes it seem as though everything is right with the world for a moment, could God’s love be so good that it could engross our attention beyond earthly things? Beyond our hopes and dreams and material loves. Beyond our families and wives and husbands. Beyond our careers and lists of “50 things to do before I die.”

For something to be absorbed, it must be absorbable. I think of how porous wood is and its ability to soak in water versus a rock for instance. I think of how we allow ourselves to be absorbed in a slice of flourless chocolate cake allowing the world to melt away in the deliciousness. I think of how often we don’t allow ourselves the goodness of melting away in God’s love.

Are we porous to God’s love?

Do we believe if we open ourselves to God’s love that he will love us? That God will absorb us.

Could we, even just for tonight, sit back and enjoy a slice of rich, full-bodied, unending love? Could we allow ourselves to be absorbed?

sometimes i feel a bit crazy

It’s like running conversations through your head. You know, the ones where you wish you hadn’t said what you had said and now you can’t stop thinking about what you should have said. On the other side, I have friends who are good at not holding on to things. They somehow can think their way out. However, as much as I try, I’m a feeler. I think there should be an Al Anon type group for us.

“Hi, my name is Jenna and I’m a feeler. Sometimes, I feel a bit crazy.”

Perhaps that’s what group therapy is.

But here’s the thing. It’s normal. That’s what I wanted to walk over and tell that girl in the parking lot tonight. The one crying on the phone and asking her friend why she couldn't stop.

You’re not crazy. You’re just feeling your heart navigate life a bit. And that’s not such a bad thing.

At some point in culture, we decided that feelings weren’t good anymore, that they were a representation of being weak or for lack of better terms, a nut case. We even went as far to say that feelings were feminine in the worst kind of way, as if to say women nor feelings are rational.

Somehow we forget that the most courageous and righteous man this world has known was a feeler. Jesus had compassion — he felt the wounds of this world deeply and he loved his people. One of the most demonstrative verses of this is John 11:35. It simply says, “Jesus wept.”

We forget this. We put limits on ourselves. We set the timer to 30 minutes and expect to not feel after we hear the buzz. Little did I know that timers were magical. We should start using them for other things as well. Perhaps, the buzzer will go off and my research paper will have magically written itself in 10 minutes. If that seems ridiculous, perhaps it is ridiculous for us to think our feelings and the deep movements within our soul and hearts would work themselves out in a set time as well.

This isn’t to discount the value of letting go or asking God to release your heart and mind of a situation or specific emotion. However, it is a reminder that the deep things of our soul take time. Sometimes they are needed, necessary and good. Sometimes, we need to weep. Perhaps he could be teaching us something through it — perhaps, he is inviting us to love ourselves, feelings and all, in His presence.

What do you need to feel tonight?