Anxiety

As I think about this topic allow me to alleviate your anxiety and give you the freedom to realize I am unqualified to discuss this subject medically or theologically. However, may I ponder a link between David, the man after God's heart, and this toxic anxiety?

It has been an incredibly long time that I have had a desire to trust God so completely that I would be anxiety free.  In the fifth grade I had turned my life over to this God and my walk was immediately interrupted by a traumatic change of schools.  In my old school boys weren't more or less cool, girls weren't more or less pretty and kids weren't more or less smart.  We all just seemed to be more or less friends.  This school change brought a pecking order; status delineation, cuteness ratio, dweeb analysis.  My groove factor was somewhere between "pathetic" and "Oh brother".  The tiles on the floor became my friend.  The hill, on our farm that overlooked the river...my solace.

Why all this anxiety?  Was it the change in schools?  Maybe adolescence had crept up on me. Or even worse -  had I become something people now despised?  

Over these many years anxiety has perplexed me.  Countless times, in the Bible, God warns us about this anxiety.  The confusion is that something which seems to be attached to me is so vehemently warned against.

As of late, I have been involved in a study of David, the Shepard who became king.  Acts 13:22 and 1 Samuel 13:14 refer to David as a "Man after God's own heart."  Why was that?  What was this trait he possessed?  Certainly it wasn't because of his many character deviations like adultery and murder. But as I look through his life, God was his focus.  Even when his humanness got in the way God was his default.  Could this be a link to my anxiety?

David didn't seem upset that he had been forgotten by his family in the blessed king lottery.  Killing the bear and lion...no problem, it was his duty to protect the sheep, God would protect him.  There was no second thought about himself with Goliath. Big or not Goliath had mocked God and must be dealt with.  Running from Psycho Saul was confusing but David always kept checking in with God.

However, does anxiety begin to make an entrance in 1 Samuel 27 when David begins to think "to himself"?  He begins to run...wherever.  His plans were all of a sudden not directed.

Proverbs 3:5 says this:

"Trust in the Lord with all 

your heart

and lean not on your own 

understanding;

in all your ways 

acknowledge him,

and he will direct your path."  

Is there a dimension, state of mind or acknowledgement of God's glory that I can escape to where there is no realization in which I can manipulate?  Often I feel as if I clumsily struggle in the morass between wanting to know and understand what and why and desiring to do what and why because it is obvious.

Let me try to explain.  In a previous blog I tried to describe humility as something that is, not something I do.  If I do humility I flounder in and out of guilt and pride.  If I was actually humble I would not know and escape this confusion of a reality created by my own determination.  

To be "in Christ"...not a pursuance exactly but a dimension of being...a state of having no option but Christ-likeness.

Will this Holy Spirit dimension release me from this dreaded anxiety?  And if so how do I get there and will I know when I have arrived?  

Does it seem as if God's plan is neither?  If I know how and why, maybe that is the proof I'm not there.  Is giving way to dependence His desire?  Is it about me at all?  Doesn't God say I must trust and He will direct?

Yes, we need to keep moving along and yes, there are other reasons for anxiety and yes, I still flounder.  But, could it be that if I am kept out of anxiety and replace me with dependence on God, might I soar into this often desired but hidden dimension?  Others may see me in and I will experience it but I will never realize I have arrived because this Godly dimension has a unending arrival, it is always pursue-able.  

It isn't easy, hence the dependence.  There will be hard times, trouble and even calamity.  But Psalm 46 shows me that God is my refuge and His Holy Spirit my reassurance.  This anxiety limits what is and obsesses what is not.  When I  "be still," give way, depend and allow this Lord Almighty to build a "fortress" around me, anxiety will fade and comfort will fill the now vacant spaces.

Shadows

The shadow of the cross

reveals a story true.

A baby born with love so boundless

to give us life anew.

Wrapped in blood and in a manger

a sacrifice will come

The test will not be easy,

the sins of all, not some.

A Kingly Crown to us be given, 

the One who wore the thorn.

The empty cross, He's risen

the One to us was born.

As always God has more for us than we first understand.  Maybe Christmas wasn't really about the birth of Jesus at all.  It was about beginning the sacrificial process of providing us new life!

John 10:10

"I have come that you may have life

and have it to the full."

Merry Christmas! 

Rest

My father was a man of principle.  Often, however, I didn't understand the passion behind the scruples.  You see, there was a hesitancy for him to do certain things for some reason.  I grew up in an age of obedience...no questions asked.  Unfortunately it wasn't until the last years of his life that we were able to chat as friends instead of "father-son."  There were too many things to find out, at that point, so his concept of Sunday rest went unknown.  It seemed somewhat confusing because activities like playing tennis were OK, but fishing was out of the question.  Fishing...? Why fishing?  Was it too much work to get the boat out, the old motor started and the fish cleaned?  Who knows, but it was off limits.  I will say, however, even this unknown created a semblance of difference and respect for the "day of rest".

Somehow this life has so many ways to fill itself with chaos and mayhem.  Work, kids...life- it sucks the existence out of us.  Though we now live under grace and we aren't bound by this "day of rest", is the component still essential?

Amy Carmichael puts it this way in the book, "I Come Quietly to Meet You":

                             "Those of us who are God's emissaries are to treat the world
                               (not just its corruptions, but its legitimate joys, its privileges and
                                blessings also), as a thing to be touched at a distance. 
                              We must be aware at all times that, if we are caught by its spirit,        
                               or fed by its meat, we will lose our sensitivity to the very breath
                               of the Highest and will no longer receive the manna that falls
                               from heaven to feed  our souls.

                             It is not that He forbids us this or that indulgence or comfort;
                              not that He is stern, calling us to a life of harsh asceticism,
                             as if that would make Him more pleased with us.  No, it is that we
                             who love our Lord, and we whose affections are set on the things
                             that are heaven for us today, will voluntarily and gladly lay aside
                            things that charm the world, so that we may be charmed and ravished
                            with the things of heaven.  Then our whole being may be poured forth
                            in constant and unreserved devotion in serving our Lord, who died to
                            save us." 

Does freedom lie in the captivity of this Savior?  Is there seriousness in why God gave rest its own special day?  Do I use this day of rest to entangle my life with more nonsense or do I rid the nonsense allowing myself room to be filled with wonder?

Will God judge me if I mow the lawn, play tennis or go fishing?  I should think not.  The offering of spiritual renewal and refreshment is given as a benefit not a painful hindrance.  I don't think God recommends options to give Himself opportunities to punish.  His creation and sacrifice is for our benefit.  If I refuse the benefit to be refreshed, I just won't be refreshed.

We see here then that sacrifice is a risky business.  So just as the soldier died to give me the right to burn the flag he is buried with, he hopes the freedom he sacrificed for would not bring despicable behavior.  This also holds true for the "day of rest".  The freedom we have gained to be refreshed by the sacrifice of Jesus, was meant to establish desire not repugnance.

Is this "day of rest" more important than I had once believed?  Often my fathers principles turn out that way.  Have I given away my freedom for things that just fill time and not refresh?  I must revive myself.  I must spend time with my God and make my "day of rest" worthwhile.  I must be careful because maybe, just maybe, if I am not a servant to the freedom sacrifice has provided I will become a slave to the tyranny I despise. 

Perspective

                                                                                               

                                                         PERSPECTIVE

                                                          Genesis 2:1&2

                                         "Thus the heavens and the earth were
                                             completed in all their vast array.
                                          By the seventh day God had finished
                                         the work He had been doing; so on the
                                        seventh day he rested from all His work."

How do I look at things?  What do I see?  Does it have confusing intricate detail...or is it all in plain view?  It often seems as if the complex issues in the miraculous majesty of God may be something only wise intellectuals can muster.  But I have this thought that, maybe, even the minds of those of us who are less adept can perceive this great Majesty as well.

Now realize, this is not to take anything away from brilliance...if only I had more of this coveted intellect. But this blog is to view perspective in a way to show God's creativity in allowing us to all be interested.

One day I was sitting in on a class of my friend as he was explaining certain views of creation.  His excitement began to ramp up as he described a view of a longer creation than an actual six day span.  In his excitement he began to explain molecules, atoms, light years and on and on.  My thoughts fluttered off into kids movies about toys and my mind began to shut down.  How could I facilitate my view of God in all this?  All these microbes, cellular structures and physic...things were spectacular but how could I calculate my God's Majesty using theory's I couldn't process?

Was my God smaller because my mind couldn't wrap its tentacles around such brilliance?  Could I not stand firm in my belief that the God of my friend and the God of my heart were the same?

The supposition behind the brilliance was that there was so much majesty in this God of his...so much complexity.  And thus the complexity being all true proves that this creation is much more than happenstance.  This amazing feat must have taken more than six actual days to complete. Of course God gives intricate criteria for things like salvation but often we process things in our own peculiar ways. As I think further it makes more sense to me now.  Though we all have our differences God remains the same. He is majestic no matter the perspective.  You see, my friend is brilliant and may be bored with my simple explanation of God's majestic creation.  He dives into the wonders of how this incredible God made all this majesty work.  And me, I am just extremely thankful that God included me in the plan.  Maybe its all a little like Freud and Rip Van Winkle; one agonizes over what our minds do in our sleep and the other can't wait to take a nap.

Its just hard for me to extrapolate on simple words.  Six days seem to be six days.  And is that less majestic?  Did he need more time?  All this complexity created because my God spoke it into being...a Majestic God for a simple man.

Continuation

Have you ever gotten the feeling that you weren't able to finish something but knew that if you had had the time you wouldn't have been able to get it right anyway?  Often I have had this feeling as a father.  Since my kids have moved on my heart yearns for one more explanation...something to relive the gift of time together.  When their fingers slipped through mine my responsibility seemed incomplete...unfinished.  The present somehow still lay unopened...wrong tears for "I'll miss you, wrong hug for "I'm sorry", Wrong words for "I love you".

Is it possible I made a connection when I noticed that a conflict between a parent and child, or for that matter a child and an aging parent, may be with the perspective of conversation...one giving instruction the other receiving correction?  Why does the bow on this gift seem to be untouched, the knot still held tight?

Do not misinterpret this difference between instruction and correction.  As we age our search for independence doesn't really leave us, although the focus may change.  We want to be loved, noticed and congratulated for our inferences and discoveries. However, these struggles of acceptance seem to intensify during the teenage and elder years.  The young adult is breaking free and the older adult holding on.  In both cases their hope is in the understanding that trust and belief is needed from those who are closest, yet it is held at a distance, if accepted at all.

                                  "I can do this don't baby me" or "I can do this don't pity me"

When advice is given frustration begins to mount.  My attempt at instruction, meant to help, love and protect, was often met with this frustration, a push back of sorts. I often thought there was some kind of an irritation from the instruction when it may have been a condescending message of correction I was portraying.   My instructive words were coming through with a corrective attitude leaving people lessened not build up.

Jesus handled situations differently, for example, look in the Bible with me at the adulterous woman in John 8.  With simple questions and pictures in the sand, Jesus allowed the Pharisees to admonish themselves and the woman to feel true love and acceptance.  He was able to allow each of them to come to terms with their needed response.   Granted, Jesus is God and I am me so situations often work out differently. but this is a picture, nonetheless, of positive idea transfer.

Did I bolster my parents or my kids?  Do I offer real help to my co-workers?  Do I reach out and help the crabby customer?

I look back and feel somewhat of a failure at opening this gift of communication...the missed opportunities of instruction, the frustrating terms of correction.  But as I age, the picture seems clearer somehow.  Getting it all right pales in comparison to pressing on.  Other lives will experience wisdom I have gained from both triumphs and failures of the past because I have been blessed with the gracious acceptance of my family who have allowed me to practice these many years.

As in the example Jesus set before us in John 8, I pray that my words will be less distinct and my pictures in the sand more evident. This gift of time together continues on as the present does not lie unopened, but has been re-wrapped and the bow untangled to reveal a new gift...a grandson.  Welcome Avery!  Together there will be treasures opened that only we will see...places we will go...people we will meet and secrets we will share. 

BLAKE

Almost three years ago I wrote Christmas Child and the memories were sweet. As I revisit this blog post my heart is heavy.

----------

CHRISTMAS CHILD

It has been many years now since my wife and I have taken in foster children.  The kids were great but, at times, the advocacy was difficult.  At one point we had a little boy who stayed with us much longer than anticipated.  Karen worked tirelessly to protect and find a wonderful home for this little boy.  The whole process took a few years enabling me to do something I maybe should have shielded myself from....we developed a special kind of a bond.

The image never goes away.  As I would sit and read in the early morning my eyes would catch bouncing, curly hair traipsing down the stairs.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he would plop down next to me, wrap himself up in my arms and keep me company.  Sometimes we didn't talk, but often we chatted about "stuff".  It wasn't long now and he was gone, we had all finally settled on a good home, I didn't realize right away but this little boy had cut out a piece of my heart and taken it with him.

How much more must Christmas have felt to God?  He wrapped up His Son, set Him in a cold manger and left Him in a warped, crazy world.  God knew this baby would be mocked, ridiculed, beaten and killed.  But He also knew there was no other way to defeat man's sinful hearts. 

Oh how glad I am that God was willing to suffer the pain of separation so I could find this babe of Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

----------

After sacrificing his time and life in Afghanistan to protect our freedom Blake could battle no more. He passed away fighting the demons he was unable to cope with. After twenty some years Blake had reached out to us and tried to connect. If I could have just wrapped him up in my arms and talked about “stuff” again would it have helped? Of course there is always the “what ifs”… We were so close, I wish we could have reached him but the past was all too consuming.

That Babe of Christmas is still waiting to wrap us in His arms and shield us from the “stuff” we battle. Don’t give up…He’s waiting.

WRESTLING

Come back with me some thirty five years to LeTourneau College. To the heat of eastern Texas on a campus where the girls were diamonds and the boys were rough. The living quarters were as varied as a man's wardrobe of bell bottoms and leisure suits. " Sir, would you prefer an old army barrack, a room in our brand new plush cement bomb shelter or a suite in an old Hilton Hotel." I didn't need much, I was a man of little consequence. So I accepted the luxury hotel suite, the pool...the whole deal.

I had a wonderful friend back then whose biceps made my thighs look small and out of proportion. You see, Dan lifted weights and wrestled for the college. I had played a little basketball and tennis but had never participated in the sport of bad uniforms and humiliation. By bad uniforms I mean bad uniforms. What I mean by humiliation is that wrestling is not a team sport. If you won it was great, if you lost...you lost. You stood out there in front of everyone and took your lumps. There was no sharing the blame, you were alone.

As a fan it was so easy to watch someone out on the mat struggling and do the official annoying yell; " just stand up". I didn't understand the reality of that annoyance until Dan asked me to be his practice partner. I would go for a take down and find that moving his leg was like repositioning the foundation of the Eiffel Tower. This musclebound person would flop me around like a rag doll on a sweaty, smelly rubber mat finally jumping on top of me for my final demise. He would body slam me, put me in holds the names of which seem somewhat inappropriate, and continually pin me to the mat. My perspective changed. If someone would have told me to "just stand up" during my drubbing I may have lost whatever composure I had left.

This may not make sense to you but thoughts like these caused me to quit writing for a spell. A friend of mine created a pod-cast which explained the difference between a thinker and a doer. Often I think and draw conclusions leading to frustration as I analyse why people act and do what they do. I draw ideas from my perspective, my dealings...my way of life. With my brilliant overtones I think I can solve these dilemmas which have caused such anxiety. But really my conclusions are only the annoying "just stand up." Of course I care. But the empathy is often self served because I want a change to alleviate the hassle in my life. It was time to put the pen down and the wrestling shoes on.

Jesus got in the face of people. He didn't conjecture from a wing back chair in the den. He didn't assume the woman at the well was scummy and should be spanked. He didn't assume the Pharisees were perfect because they were religious leaders. He didn't assume Peter should just stand up. He entered their lives and saw what they needed. He saw a woman who needed a different kind of love. He saw a bunch of men that completely missed the point of His Father's words and needed a boot in the shorts. And He saw a man reaching out and helped him stand up. Granted, He is God, He knows what to do... of course He will help us as well.

Do I always know what people need? Generally... no. Do I know the brokenness behind difficult relationships?Do I know the hurt, the struggles or the void? Should I be a coach, a father or just a friend? I do know that sometimes they can't just stand up. I wrestle with myself. Many times my pen scribbles, but my feet can walk with them. Too often, however, I say what to do before I do what

I should.