Wednesday, September 22, 2010
These things take time...
It’s been almost a year since I graduated with my MA in Professional Counseling. I got a job about three months out of school; however, after several months of working there, I was certain it was not where God wanted me. That being said, I am another couple months into being unemployed. Ok, maybe I should clarify. Because I am also a part-time piano/voice teacher, I am not completely unemployed; however, I am only making about half of the income I need to pay all of my bills. It’s incredibly scary and horribly frustrating.
Being in such a “tight” place has helped me learn a lot. I have learned more about community… about allowing others to help me. If you know anything about me, I like to “do it myself”, but it has been extremely humbling to learn that, in all honesty, I can’t. As much as I enjoy being self-sufficient and independent, sometimes a little extra help is necessary… for well-being and for humility. I spent some time with friends last Thursday night, and a friend that I just met reminded me that the purpose of the Body is to lift one another up and to encourage, to help in times of need. It was a reminder of my role as the giver but also the recipient.
Growing up, I very rarely thought about money. My family wasn’t rich, but we weren’t poor… at least to my knowledge. We had food on the table, clothes on our bodies, a roof over our heads, and we even got to take family vacations every now and then. We may not have gone out to eat for every meal or had designer clothes or taken trips to exotic sites, but I have some very precious memories revolving around spending just a little money…not to negate the fact that my parents worked hard, and my dad is probably the most financially savvy person I know.
One memory I have is of a camping trip my family took. We packed up the tent and headed to a campsite. Oh the fun we had… especially as it started to pour. No one slept that night, and we were all fairly miserable, but we were together, and I will never forget it. In the second grade, many of my friends’ families had money trees growing in their backyards, and I remember coming home in tears because someone had made a comment about my jeans not having a specific label. I don’t even know what the label was, but I do remember my mom’s efforts to find a label that she could sew onto my jeans. The funny thing is that once the label was attached, no one noticed they were the same old non-brand jeans. Other memories include late nights around a campfire while my dad read aloud my siblings and me. They are precious to me and mean far more than any material gift or trinket.
All that to say that I am convinced that authenticity and valuable moments do not require having or spending a lot of money. However, I have to admit that I am human; a little stability would be nice. I will be completely honest, I’m nervous. I don’t know how things will work next month. I can't see it, and I wonder why God gave me eyes when faith is how I'm supposed to see. God has blessed me this month and provided through His Body. He usually does that when I reach the end of my rope and say, “I can’t do it”. I can just see Jesus shaking His head with a half smile, saying, “It’s about time you let me take over”. You’d think that with all the times I’ve been to that place, I wouldn’t have any difficulty trusting! That I would never be tempted to worry again!
I know the Biblical command not to worry, but what is the practical aspect? How do I apply this to daily life? How do I “just not worry”? What does it mean to “cast my cares upon Him”? And how do I know if I really am? Will I see the results? Feel the results? Where is the balance of resting/trusting and yet not negating my responsibility to be a good steward with what I have and continuing to look for potential jobs. I really want to believe that God will provide. He is Jehovah Jirah, but alas, knowing and feeling are very different, and when knowledge and emotion are not in sync, confusion is usually the next visitor. becomes even more difficult when the only doors that seem to be moving are those that are very clearly closing. However, as a friend suggested, knowing where not to go is just as important as knowing where to go.
Sometimes the most precious of all moments takes place in the most difficult of times. As I listened to the song included in this post, I feel like singing and dancing and laughing... but I also feel like crying. Yes, it is possible to do all of the latter at the very same time. I'm in that place where peace, delight, confusion, expectancy, and frustration all meet... on the road that leads to complete reliance. It's the balance between finding joy in the experience, yet experiencing without stoicism/bitterness/guilt. Despite the fact that I have no idea what is coming next, this is where Iam... and it is the best possible place to be.
So, I trudge onward, knowing that "these things take time".
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Drip, Drip, Drop Little April Showers; what can compare to your beautiful sound...
Well, the tears falling from my eyes are anything but little drips and drops, and I’m not exactly creating a beautiful sound with gasping breaths and sobs. For further contradiction, let’s remember that it is September… not April.
Nevertheless, this song was what popped into my head as I let the tears freely flow. The other thought was that I am not one of those people others might call a “pretty crier”. You know how there are some people who can cry until they convince everyone around them that no bodily fluids remain, yet they still manage to look stunning? Yeah, those people kind of annoy me. I am among those whose face clearly reflects a previous cry – quite intensely I might add. The puffy eyes and bright red nose are currently intimate companions of mine.
My heart is sad. I figured I would share that information just in case you couldn’t tell from the previous paragraph. I am sad for a lot of reasons. Part of me is sad for my own loss because twelve years ago today I made a decision to have an abortion. It is a decision that I regret, a decision that I mourn. I cry, and I grieve over my loss; however, I also rejoice over the freedom I now have because today also marks three years from the day that I was baptized and publically shared my story. It is a freedom that I long so desperately to share.
I remember as a teenager, trying so desperately to the exact opposite, to hide all my hurt and pain because I didn’t want anyone to think I was “bad”. Yet, I continuously told myself I did not care. It seems a bit ironic. I remember when I told my family. How hard they worked to protect my privacy because I was terrified of what the Church would think… even though I “didn’t care”. The effort I put into not caring was because it hurt too much to care, and I was humiliated. I was afraid that my church would shun me, afraid that my friends would disown me, afraid that my family would be humiliated or that they might think they had failed. In actually, I cared I a lot, but I could not, or rather, I would not because once I did, the pain would become real, and that was a risk I was not willing to take.
And so I suffered… alone, and yet not really alone because my entire family was hurting with me. They just didn’t know exactly why, and they didn’t know how to help. What they did know was that when one part of the body suffers, “every part suffers with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26).
It is at this point where practicality and need meet. How do they suffer with it, and what exactly does “suffer with it” mean? The Greek word used in the latter passage is sumpascho and literally means to suffer or feel pain together and to suffer evils (troubles, persecutions) in the like manner with another (Vine, 1996, p. 608). My humble conclusion is that the “suffer with it” part likely means experiencing the hurt and pain of someone else. So, now the question is “how”? If you want my opinion… well, you are reading my blog, so I’m going to assume you are at least a little curious about what I think. By no means do I profess to have the answer. I have never studied Greek, so I could be far from accurate; however, I am going to explain what I have concluded.
I believe there are various forms of suffering with someone. The first occurs when we have suffered the same hurt in the same moment. For example, I cried with my family when we had to put our dog to sleep. We all mourned the same loss, and we could identify with the others. The second occurs when we are unable to identify with what someone else is experiencing yet we feel sad because they are sad. I experienced this type of suffering when a friend’s parents got divorced. Despite the fact that I had no idea what it was like to see my parents separate, I saw how much she suffered, and as a result, my heart broke too. A third form of suffering takes place when we encounter someone who is currently suffering in a manner that we have previously suffered and from which we have experienced healing. In 2 Corinthians 1:3-7, Paul states that we are able to comfort others with the comfort we have received from God; perhaps His presence did so through others who comforted us. It is for this reason I am convinced that God purposed me to feel all the pain and anguish that I experienced so that I could hurt with the ones who suffer after me - to offer comfort and hope through Jesus Christ, our Father of compassion and our God of all comfort.
One more form of suffering occurs in the hearts of Believers when we hurt for those who “don’t care” and who “don’t know” that they are hurting. It is the suffering for the souls of those who are unfamiliar with the privilege of knowing and experiencing Jesus. It is a burden that should strike a fire within the heart of every Believer and ignite a passion to share His healing and redemptive power with urgency and enthusiasm. As a result, we will likely suffer.
About a year ago, I remember asking my clinical supervisor, “When will it not hurt so much?” after discussing a client who had experienced extreme trauma. His response still resonates quite loudly in my mind, “Do you really want it not to?” After careful thought, I knew my answer was a firm “no”. I have embraced the passion God has given me, and despite the fact that I can sometimes be a little over-enthusiastic, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He has forgiven me much, so that I can love much (Luke 7:36-50). I never want to lose the ability to hurt with others because doing so would mean I had lost the opportunity of healing and rejoicing with them as well. It is a duty, a privilege, and a joy that I am unwilling to relinquish, and I am thankful He has entrusted me with so much.
The zeal of God has consumed me
It burns within my soul
A flaming fire that keeps burning
A fire that cannot be quenched
May we burn without scorching and glow without dimming. May we be consumed.
References
Holy Bible (NIV). (1996). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Corporation.
Vine, W. E. (1996). Vine’s complete expository dictionary of old and new testament words. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Nevertheless, this song was what popped into my head as I let the tears freely flow. The other thought was that I am not one of those people others might call a “pretty crier”. You know how there are some people who can cry until they convince everyone around them that no bodily fluids remain, yet they still manage to look stunning? Yeah, those people kind of annoy me. I am among those whose face clearly reflects a previous cry – quite intensely I might add. The puffy eyes and bright red nose are currently intimate companions of mine.
My heart is sad. I figured I would share that information just in case you couldn’t tell from the previous paragraph. I am sad for a lot of reasons. Part of me is sad for my own loss because twelve years ago today I made a decision to have an abortion. It is a decision that I regret, a decision that I mourn. I cry, and I grieve over my loss; however, I also rejoice over the freedom I now have because today also marks three years from the day that I was baptized and publically shared my story. It is a freedom that I long so desperately to share.
I remember as a teenager, trying so desperately to the exact opposite, to hide all my hurt and pain because I didn’t want anyone to think I was “bad”. Yet, I continuously told myself I did not care. It seems a bit ironic. I remember when I told my family. How hard they worked to protect my privacy because I was terrified of what the Church would think… even though I “didn’t care”. The effort I put into not caring was because it hurt too much to care, and I was humiliated. I was afraid that my church would shun me, afraid that my friends would disown me, afraid that my family would be humiliated or that they might think they had failed. In actually, I cared I a lot, but I could not, or rather, I would not because once I did, the pain would become real, and that was a risk I was not willing to take.
And so I suffered… alone, and yet not really alone because my entire family was hurting with me. They just didn’t know exactly why, and they didn’t know how to help. What they did know was that when one part of the body suffers, “every part suffers with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26).
It is at this point where practicality and need meet. How do they suffer with it, and what exactly does “suffer with it” mean? The Greek word used in the latter passage is sumpascho and literally means to suffer or feel pain together and to suffer evils (troubles, persecutions) in the like manner with another (Vine, 1996, p. 608). My humble conclusion is that the “suffer with it” part likely means experiencing the hurt and pain of someone else. So, now the question is “how”? If you want my opinion… well, you are reading my blog, so I’m going to assume you are at least a little curious about what I think. By no means do I profess to have the answer. I have never studied Greek, so I could be far from accurate; however, I am going to explain what I have concluded.
I believe there are various forms of suffering with someone. The first occurs when we have suffered the same hurt in the same moment. For example, I cried with my family when we had to put our dog to sleep. We all mourned the same loss, and we could identify with the others. The second occurs when we are unable to identify with what someone else is experiencing yet we feel sad because they are sad. I experienced this type of suffering when a friend’s parents got divorced. Despite the fact that I had no idea what it was like to see my parents separate, I saw how much she suffered, and as a result, my heart broke too. A third form of suffering takes place when we encounter someone who is currently suffering in a manner that we have previously suffered and from which we have experienced healing. In 2 Corinthians 1:3-7, Paul states that we are able to comfort others with the comfort we have received from God; perhaps His presence did so through others who comforted us. It is for this reason I am convinced that God purposed me to feel all the pain and anguish that I experienced so that I could hurt with the ones who suffer after me - to offer comfort and hope through Jesus Christ, our Father of compassion and our God of all comfort.
One more form of suffering occurs in the hearts of Believers when we hurt for those who “don’t care” and who “don’t know” that they are hurting. It is the suffering for the souls of those who are unfamiliar with the privilege of knowing and experiencing Jesus. It is a burden that should strike a fire within the heart of every Believer and ignite a passion to share His healing and redemptive power with urgency and enthusiasm. As a result, we will likely suffer.
About a year ago, I remember asking my clinical supervisor, “When will it not hurt so much?” after discussing a client who had experienced extreme trauma. His response still resonates quite loudly in my mind, “Do you really want it not to?” After careful thought, I knew my answer was a firm “no”. I have embraced the passion God has given me, and despite the fact that I can sometimes be a little over-enthusiastic, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He has forgiven me much, so that I can love much (Luke 7:36-50). I never want to lose the ability to hurt with others because doing so would mean I had lost the opportunity of healing and rejoicing with them as well. It is a duty, a privilege, and a joy that I am unwilling to relinquish, and I am thankful He has entrusted me with so much.
The zeal of God has consumed me
It burns within my soul
A flaming fire that keeps burning
A fire that cannot be quenched
May we burn without scorching and glow without dimming. May we be consumed.
References
Holy Bible (NIV). (1996). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Corporation.
Vine, W. E. (1996). Vine’s complete expository dictionary of old and new testament words. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, Inc.
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