And After You Have Done Everything

The past few days, I’ve kind of felt like I couldn’t take any more. And after I decided that I couldn’t take any more, I found out that I could take a lot more than I thought I could.

I hate it when that happens.

But, I also love it.

Because when I can’t take any more, that’s when I stop trying so hard.

In a way, I give up.

But I don’t give up in order to wallow in hopelessness.

I give up on having it my way.

I give up so I can wallow in God.

Because sometimes, you just need to rest.

I like Ephesians 6:13. Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.

I like that verse because it talks about practicalities. Yes, prepare. Yes, protect yourself. Yes, do what you need to do to stand up for yourself. But, after you have done everything, you can stop doing. Your job is to just stand. Don’t give up — but take some time to just be. Rest. Gather yourself together. Just stand.

I had a situation today where I had to decide when to stop “doing” and when to start “standing.” I was so tempted to just give up. I was sick of all the drama and all the backstabbing. But then I was reminded that after I had done everything I could do, I still needed to stand. I still needed to be me, and I still needed to do what I’ve always done, because I do what I do out of love, not out of a desire for recognition. Regardless of how I feel about what’s going on, there are people who need me. So right now, my job is to stand. My job is to not let discouragement get the best of me. My job is to keep on keeping on.

 

My Birdie

I got a parakeet last week.

Solomon is a beautiful shade of blue.

If he hears music, he chirps along. It’s nice.

I let him out of his cage when I get home in the evening, and he sort of flutters about a little bit, but then he finds a nice perch somewhere and just sits there.

The first time I let Solomon out of the cage, I chased him around the room trying to get him back into the cage and he just flitted from one perch to the next. It was really quite maddening. My friend then informed me that he would go back to the cage on his own when he got hungry.

So now I just leave him be when he’s out. And he just sits there.

Solomon could be exploring my house, but he just sits there. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s not in a cage. He doesn’t know he’s free.

Solomon and I have that in common.

I spent years being told what to do, what to think, and how my life was going to turn out. Then I left and years later, I’m still doing the same old things, even though I’m no longer caged.

When Solomon does venture out to explore, he always ends up flying into walls. It’s like he’s not even looking where he’s going. It’s really quite comical.

Solomon and I have that in common too.

I don’t literally walk into walls. But when you don’t really know what freedom means, you kind of just sit there, fearful of where the next move might take you and not really knowing what to do next. So you sit there until you sense danger. Then you flit and flutter a little bit, you fly into a few walls until you find another good perch — and you hope that it’s going to be safe for a while. You want it to be safe forever — but you just don’t know if that’s even possible. After waiting a while on your new perch, you start to get a little anxious because who knows what might happen next? So you flit and flutter about a little more. You’re looking for the security of the cage, and while you’re looking, you fly into a few more walls, get a few more bumps and bruises, and wonder what is going on and how you’re supposed to get what you need. Finally, you find it. You let yourself back into your nice, safe cage and wait for the door to close behind you.

Not realizing that although you feel safe, you have just lost your freedom.

 

#74

One thing that I really like about my church is that they almost never do music that I did with the worship team I used to be part of.

Today was an exception.

Instead of thinking about Jesus at church today, I thought about how messed up the whole situation was back then.

Back then, there was a question as to which key to play the song in. Being a soprano, I typically enjoy singing more if the song is in a higher key. I cast my vote for the higher key — and I was promptly criticized by another worship team member because “the only reason you want the higher key is so you can sing higher notes.”

Um, yes. Isn’t that sort of the point of playing a song in a higher key?

Apparently higher notes are evil or something? Maybe? Does this make me evil because singing high notes is sort of my thing?

I spent several years feeling guilty for preferring to sing that song in a higher key. I’m not making that up.

Today I realized that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being able to sing the high notes — and there’s also nothing wrong with enjoying doing something that you’re good at. I also realized that there was no reason for anybody to be critical of my opinion. My opinion is just as valid as anybody else’.

And, I’m incredibly grateful that I’m no longer part of that group.

 

Rejected People Reject People

At church tonight, the pastor spoke about the need for relationships.

Face-to-face relationships.

You know — the kind where there’s no screen involved.

The kind where you talk to each other. Verbally.

The kind where you really, truly connect with someone.

* * * * *

This topic has been weighing on me for a very long time. Like, for the past 4 years.

Four years ago, I lost every friend I had.

I had been very involved in my church, but when one person decided I wasn’t cool anymore, a series of unfortunate events happened which ultimately ended with my being completely secluded and cut off from everyone I had related to up until that point.

Being that alone is horrible.

You try. You try really hard to go on but it just doesn’t work. You begin to be suffocated by the monotony of endless nothingness.

The nothingness ends up manifesting in physical pain that can’t be explained. And the pain causes tiredness. And depression. Because nothing makes sense anymore. The only thing that really makes sense is that everything that matters hurts. And that doesn’t even (really) make sense. There’s no reason for the pain. No physical injury that might have caused the pain. No explanation as to why you’re suddenly all alone.

The nothingness is a constant buzzing in your ears. It drives you crazy. You’d do anything to stop it — if you knew what “anything” consisted of. It’s torturous. It’s always there, constantly getting more and more annoying and you have no idea how to make it stop.

I ended up leaving.

Maybe that wasn’t the best response in the world. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t go to church and watch the people who had been my friends doing what they’d always done, but this time, without me. So, I left.

* * * * *

I’ve always been a people person. It might not appear that way on the surface, but I am. I can’t even clean my house without having someone to talk to while I do it. I put off grocery shopping until I can’t put it off anymore — because I typically don’t have anyone to shop with.

So, when I lost my friends, my life went into a downward spiral. It was awful.

On top of all that, everyone I had hung around before believed that single people were more spiritual and closer to God than non-single people. It was also a law rule in my church that if you were in any role in ministry, you were not allowed to date/court/otherwise entertain someone of the opposite gender.

As I was removed from ministry after ministry, and as my life kept up the steady downward spiral, I began to seriously rethink this notion of aloneness being equal to godliness or some kind of super-spirituality.

I know this is really simplistic, but if you look at the very beginning of the Bible, there’s this dude named Adam who was created by God for the purpose of keeping God company. But after God created Adam, and after Adam spent a couple days naming the animals, God realized that something was missing.

It was God who realized it.

It was God, who created the guy (so He’d have some company), who came up with the idea that people need people.

The Bible says that Adam walked with God in the cool of the day. It wasn’t a vague “God….. if You’re out there….” situations. They were face-to-face.

God. Man. Walking together.

And God decided that something was missing.

God invented relationships. He invented spiritual relationship. He invented relationship between Adam and the earth. He invented relationship between Adam and the plants and animals. And then He invented women. And when He invented women, He invented human relationships.

At the end of the day, He said, “It is good.”

If God invented human relationship and said “It is good” — then how is it possible that being isolated could be more spiritual or more godly than having healthy, dynamic relationships with all sorts of people?

As far as I’m concerned, asking someone to forgo relationships in order to be “more spiritual” is simply asking a person to be more spiritual than God is. Which…. is wrong on so many levels. It should never be done. Ever.

* * * * *

That was just the first step. Making the concept of having friends (especially male friends) ok in my mind was a huge step in the right direction — but it’s sort of like the process of rehabilitating a junkie. Once you define right and wrong and decide that you have a problem, you then have to take baby steps. The baby steps for the junkie are labeled. The program I’m familiar with had stuff like submission and honesty. But every step, although it might be labeled the same, looks different for each person.

It’s good, great and wonderful that I realize that relating to people isn’t a sin.

But what does that look like? How do you do it?

And how do you do it when people have hurt you so much that if you have to look at another person, you just might throw up? Yes, I’ve been there. I’ve been that repulsed by people. People in general. All people. (Except, not my grandma. Cuz my Grandma’s awesome.) Especially church people. Church people were the worst.

* * * * *

I came here hoping this problem would get better. But it hasn’t. I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to do relationships because all my relationships have been me sitting there agreeing with everybody in order to avoid conflict. That’s not a relationship. I also remember having relationships with people who invited me to hang out with them in a group and then everyone proceeded to ignore me until I got sick of it and went home. That’s not relationship either.

It’s not that there aren’t people to be friends with. It’s that I don’t know how.

* * * * *

So, I was really excited to hear the message at church tonight.

Until church was over and people dispersed and I was left with a 4-year old who was running around disrupting everything.

I felt pretty rejected. I haven’t felt that rejected since I left that god-forsaken place I used to live.

I tried to scoop up the munchkin and she ran under a table trying to escape. She wanted to play with her friend. I wanted to go home and cry. I grabbed her while she was coming out the other side and she hit her head on the table. I slung her over my shoulder and walked out with this 4-year old kicking and hitting me as we went.

After I got the munchkin into bed, I realized that I had been in such a hurry to get out of there that I hadn’t even taken the time to ask her if she was ok.

…..I’m a terrible person sometimes.

I thought about this whole scenario for a while and I realized that when someone feels rejected, they often behave in ways that others (usually) perceive as rejecting behavior (i.e. my not asking the munchkin if she was ok after hitting her head).

In other words, rejected people reject people.

Ouch.

I don’t want to be that kind of person!

I don’t want to cause the same kind of pain I’ve experienced. I want to be a better person than that.

But how?

 

The Carnival

I went to the carnival today.
I’d never ridden a Ferris wheel before.

Being on the Ferris wheel reminded me of the first car I ever drove. Every time it stopped, it would shudder a little bit, like you’d given it some nasty-tasting medicine or something. And then when it started going again, it would shudder a little more as it began to slowly creep forward.

The Ferris wheel was definitely a lot better than the car was though. I loved being able to see everything from high above the ground. And there was a nice, cool breeze blowing. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Maybe my next adventure will be skydiving.

Or…. maybe not.

Or…. maybe…. Maybe my next adventure should be a helicopter ride.

 

A Book I Found Recently

I have a confession to make.

When I have a few extra dollars, I like to go on Amazon.com and browse the book section.

Recently, I was browsing and came across this.

I was intrigued more by the subtitle than anything else. “How to Find a Date Worth Keeping: Be Dating in Six Months or Your Money Back.”

I’m not as frugal as I used to be.

But, if you’re going to give me a challenge, I’m going to go for it.

Unless it’s something stupid. Like licking a metal pole during winter.

*****

When I came across this book, I thought, “Aha! Let’s just see if this works!”

It was very exciting.

Because, when you’re like…. 30…. and you’ve been dumped once (even though you’ve never even been on a date), a guarantee like that is about as exciting as…. I don’t know. Getting a new puppy?

*****

Then, I started reading it.

I don’t think I like it very much. It sounds like work.

It sounds like I might have to become someone I’m not.

It sounds like I’d definitely have to become someone that no one is used to.

And then I’d have to explain myself. And people would look at me. And they’d like…. I don’t know. Realize that I exist. And that would take a little getting used to.

We’ll see how this goes.

 

Victory

It’s a little funny how sometimes, my life just goes along and nothing particularly interesting happens. And then no blog posts get written. And my blog doesn’t get visited. And then I feel a little neglected.

Ok, so I’m not that narcissistic.

Bored is a better way to put it.

But then, just as quickly (and inconspicuously) as life flows into the mundane, beauty can flow into life. Sometimes I don’t even recognize it. Sometimes I’m too focused on the mundane to even notice the colors that are beginning to creep in. Sometimes I’m too scared to allow myself to see them. Sometimes I let my insecurities, my fear, my pain and my needs take precedence and then I see drama and heartache and pain flow into my life.

The past few days, I’ve been thinking about my issues and problems. I’ll spare you the details. But today, I got this revelation about how my personal issues affect people who aren’t even involved. If I do something out of insecurity or fear and it affects somebody else negatively, I’m making an innocent person a victim.

That is so not ok.

I don’t want to be that kind of person. I want to be the kind of person who brings joy and peace wherever I am. I want to bring life and beauty. I want my presence to be like the paint on a canvas — bringing meaning to something that was once dull and empty. I want my presence to be a delightful aroma.

II Corinthians 2:14 says “But thanks be to God who leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him.”

I want to be that person. The one who, even though there are challenges and problems, (and even though it’s boring at times), lives in victory.

I’m really not very good a those things. But this is my prayer this week:
Let me be a person who, in spite of what is going on around me, is able to live in victory — and to bring others to a place of victory too.