People are sick. Sick in the body and in the mind, yes. But being sick in the soul is the saddest thing of all. Soul sickness is highly contagious, too. We inadvertently infect one another. Or in the case of certain populations of society, our aim is to spread spread spread! (I’m looking at all of you, political pundits of all stripes).

I might be suffering a mild to moderate case of soul sickness lately. Symptoms are confusion, lack of motivation, forgetfulness, and a distinct lack of Christ-likeness in how I am relating to my family and my coworkers. I say “might” because it’s a proven fact that self-diagnosing as “soul sick” is risky business. First there is the nagging problem of rationalization and denial. Then, of course, when you choose to declare it over the internet…well some people feel very free in telling you how wrong you are. Or worse, how RIGHT you are. AND EVEN WORSE THAN THAT, they feel obligated to show you how to correct yourself.

Someone asked me of the method part of my last post. As if my method is going to be of any use to anyone else, but just for kicks and giggles this is it:

Step 1: I get out of bed, put my two feet on the floor and will them to carry me forward.

Step 2: I have to remind myself that today is a Divine Do-over.

Step 3 gets tricky. If I am a “perfect Christian,” it is my quiet time: The Word and the Relationship. BUT what if I am not a “perfect Christian?” What I am getting ready to say is borderline blasphemy to some, but here goes: Every now and again that gets really wooden and stiff for me so I have to take a break.

I know, I can’t believe it either…I went THERE  (the line for stone throwing begins to the right).

How do I know when I need a break from the whole “good Christian” routine? When I can read entire Chapters of scripture and not even feel a tweak in my heart. Time to stop studying up for my “finals,” and go paint. Or draw, or play with my kid, or sing, or clean out a closet or catch up with an old friend or take in the scenery or get out of town or break a sweat or … <insert infinite possibilities here>

This works for me because God doesn’t just teach and train and mold me while I am holding the Bible in my lap. I think sometimes in my drive to “feel” a certain way about God, I box Him up that way. Some of my most valuable spiritual lessons have come during times outside of what I would classify as my most spiritually disciplined.

So the step after the Divine Do-over reminder is always this: treatment for the soul-sick part of me. Standard practices are good and I’m not dismissing them in the least, BUT there are times where there is no formula for treatment. I think I’m scared to admit this because formulas make us all comfortable. Formulas and routine and consistency and conformity, all of that just makes me feel like I am a part of something. Do I really believe that by following the same formulas and routines consistently JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, I will “feel” closer to God? He that created us all individually, like human versions of snowflakes…I think it’s funny that I’ve convinced myself that He wants us all relating to Him in the exact same fashion. That I will somehow BE closer to Him, the more I morph myself into other people whose spiritual life I admire (I’m looking at my vast collection of Beth Moore resources, hmmmm)?

Because the closest I’ve felt to God this week was not while I was studying the Greek root words in my memory verse but instead while I was on a ladder, eight feet in the air, trying to paint a perfect circle of blazing color on a 21 foot long wall.

So, obviously, what I call method is truly madness. Right? The point is that we each have to find our own way to peace. It’s a courageous endeavor. Some accept counterfeits. Some get tripped up by following the path of someone else. I think as long as our heart truly desires His peace, we’ll keep finding little pieces of it along the way.

Sometimes you have to let things fall apart in whatever spectacular manner they will.

In any recovery program, we call that point “rock bottom.” In work, we call that “schedule setbacks.” Or Plans B-Z. Or a million other euphemisms for “that just didn’t work out the way I wanted to, so now I’m going to rethink this.”

I’m not sure what the name for this is in relationships, because so few people can master the jig saw puzzle that is shattered, broken relationship. Like a bag of chips that explodes all over the kitchen as you try to open it…when relationship gets to that point, most people are relieved to see their dog scarfing up the pieces so that they don’t have to put forth the effort. I know, I’ve been there.

BUT, as I’ve mentioned several times in the past couple of months, I have all these situations scrambling around in my head. One puzzle would be a challenge, two a bit of stress, but I can think of at least 4, maybe 5 situations in my life that have exploded. I think on them, pray about them, think of the variety of potential responses to them, filter them through what I know is the truth in scripture, and contemplate my next steps…but the pieces still litter my psyche. Every puzzle box has been torn to shreds, the contents dumped on the floor. I do not have the guidance of the big picture on the front of the boxes (or if I do, I see a poor reflection). All I have in my tool set for piecing this back together is a method, and a madness that will keep me driven to see this through until the very last piece to the very last situation has been put into place.

I have been here for what seems like ages. But look at my progress! What? You dont’ see how all the edge pieces are piled up and ready for assembly? You don’t see the 20 corner pieces sorted by color scheme? I’m ready to dig in now…to pour over the shapes and colors until I can start separating the different pictures, seeing patterns, putting together first the frames, then the major focal points…

You can’t see it, and for that matter sometimes even I CAN’T SEE IT, but the method and the madness works for me.

Eirene,

J

In bits and pieces life is trying to settle down.

In the big things, the prioritized places, things really are improving. Yet there are still misunderstandings and injustices and little pieces of pride littering certain areas of my relationships. Even with Him. But He and I are ok with my taking some time to work out the kinks which helps me keep pressing on with the other relationships as well.

The rest of it…well…in time, right?

So the lies the enemy tells me about how God cannot be bothered with my ridiculously repetitive prayers, or that He’s heard this “excuse” before, or that maybe I should just get up off my rear-end and plug through the difficult days instead of bothering him with the minutia of my emotions…I will resist. I will denounce. Because He’s not saying that. And if He isn’t saying it, it isn’t true.

My pastor likened us all to God’s puppies yesterday, and I found that to be a perfect metaphor for what I want with Him. I mean, just because once in a while I would like my own pup to sit in one spot and leave me alone for 5 seconds already, doesn’t mean that He feels that way about me. He loves that gasping, desperate NEED for Him and rewards it with more than 5 seconds, an eternity of peace.

Come. Sit. Stay. If I am puppy-like, these are the commands I hear the most from Him. And in the rattling busyness of my days it’s hard to focus. My restlessness and anxiety shows in my inability just to abide. He’s not about to lead me to heel if I can’t master the basics. Come. Sit. Stay. We work this pattern every morning. Repetitive as ever, because I’m still looking for the treat as if I don’t already know the sitting and staying is all the treat I need.

Come: Matthew 11:28

Sit: Psalm 46:10

Stay: John 15:3-5

Eirene,

Jen

Not long ago, I wrote about a situation that overwhelmed me. Little did I know that was only the beginning of situations. A veritable smorgasbord of stress, crisis, and crazy.

“Next week, it’s my turn.” I’d said. More like “for the rest of the month.”

There’s more to my life right now than these “mystery” situations, I know this. I’m hard pressed to think of anything else at the moment, though. I’m in crisis survival mode, shoring up my faith with the requested prayers of close friends and leaning back on what I know to be true about His sovereignty and grace. Even though I don’t see it with this dimming eyes, or feel it with these bruised and battered emotions. I have started asking, “How’m I holdin’ up?” Mostly I get nods of approval, encouraging remarks about doing ok, not showing signs of wear.

But is that what I want? Do I want my face to shine a false front, if my heart feels like it’s withering inside of me? Isn’t that getting ridiculously close to the facades I’d prayed away years ago? The one where on the surface, I seemed to have most of my life “together” (whatever that means) but underneath I was quietly sabotaging not only my family, but my health and faith?

I don’t want to revel in my problems. Truly. But I’m tired of fronting that I can handle them. I CANNOT HANDLE THEM. Even as I speak this, I know that though I cannot, I will by His grace. An overwhelming grace that sits quietly in the corner until needed, pours itself over a situation until I can sleep at night, then retreats back into it’s corner to wait for tomorrow’s needed outpour.

Even though I know I am going to survive these things…these situations I refuse to blog about…the STUFF of my difficult life, that doesn’t make it any easier. I would be dead without Him, yes. And maybe the shutting down that I’m doing is part of the healing process. A safety fault to keep me from totally blowing the circuits?

But I’m not fine. I will be fine, but I’m not now. I will get through this, but I’m barely getting by right now. And I’m ok admitting that. As a fine upstanding citizen of heaven, I have a right to admit my brokenness every bit as much as I do to claim my victory. This duality is something I refuse to hide. Because, in my experience, it’s been the confession of it that has brought about manifestations of my victory. And on that, I wait.

Eirene,

Jen