Anxiety | | Page 2

Learning to Let Go

09. October 2012 · 9 comments · Categories: Anxiety, fear

“Mommy, what’s the matter?”

He can sense it. The tension and worry that so saturates my heart, it oozes from my pores. ”I just have so much on my mind. I forgot something, that’s all.” I replied.

But that’s not all. I say it like it’s not a big deal. But from the mouth of a child, his question reminds me that I shouldn’t feel this way. This burden I’m carrying on my shoulders seems to get heavier with each new day. Lately, my to-do lists have to-do lists.

Why all this tension?

With a hectic, busy life, full of responsibilities, I’m afraid I’ll forget something. I’m afraid that I’ll neglect something crucial and important. I worry that if I don’t do it, no one else will. So I try to keep everything under my control. I’m constantly reminding myself of what I have to do. “I can’t forget this…” “I better do that first thing tomorrow.” “It would be bad if I didn’t do this…”

Yet I am fooling myself. I’m not in control of anything. I could write a thousand to-do lists and it wouldn’t matter. Because God is in control and not me. I’ve been bitten by a serpent shaped lie that says I can orchestrate all the details of my life. The lie then produces fear when reality crashes in that I can’t do it at all.

Because rather than being in control of all that I fear-fear has instead gotten control of me.

How do I ever break free?

All He asks is that I simply look and believe. To look away from myself and to the Crucified Lord. Just as the Israelites looked at the bronze serpent to receive healing from their own serpent shaped wounds, I must look and believe in the One who heals. “For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life” (John 6:40)

Look. Seek. Be still and know. Believe.

I haven’t seen because I’ve only been looking at myself. I haven’t sought because I’m to busy writing and re-writing my to-do list. I haven’t been still because my mind is racing a million miles a minute. And I haven’t believed that He could handle all my stress, worries and cares.

When I do stop and look, I see Him. He is waiting. Like the Father of the Prodigal Son, He has been watching for my arrival. He’s ready to give me the peace for which my heart longs. He sees me coming from a distance and before I can say more than a simple “I’m sorry,” He brings me to the table where a feast has been prepared.

I sit at the table and look at the bountiful harvest spread before me. I eat and savor the words of truth. And I rest. He takes the burden from my shoulders and tells me He’s got it all covered. The wounds from the serpent’s bite are instantly healed.

Faith in the gospel isn’t just for new converts. It’s also for those who have followed Christ for many years. We forget and we stumble but the cross is still there to remind us of His grace. Remembering the gospel frees us from the burdens that weigh us down. It pulls us from inward focus on ourselves and our efforts to make life work and back to the One who already accomplished it all. When Jesus spoke the words, “It is finished” He shut the door on our efforts to control our life and all our striving to get everything right. And He opened the door to freedom, to grace, to rest, and to peace.

A forever Sabbath rest from trying to be perfect and control all the unknown events of our lives. A forever freedom because Jesus has already taken all our burdens.

He died for each of those times when I tried to keep my life under control. I can’t be perfect, but He was perfect for me. He only asks that I look at the cross and believe.

“You keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on you.” Isaiah 26:3

“What is needed for happy effectual service is simply to put your work into the Lord’s hand, and leave it there. Do not take it to Him in prayer, saying, “Lord, guide me, Lord, give me wisdom, Lord, arrange for me,” and then arise from your knees, and take the burden all back, and try to guide and arrange for yourself. Leave it with the Lord, and remember that what you trust to Him you must not worry over nor feel anxious about. Trust and worry cannot go together.” Hannah Whitall Smith

updated from the archives

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Through the Eyes of Grace

30. September 2012 · 26 comments · Categories: Anxiety, Gratitude Community

After a weekend away, I arrive home to a sleeping house. It’s after 11 at night but even in the dark I can see it waiting for me. I know to expect it and have already prepared myself.

And what a mess it is.

Laundry covers every surface of the living room, some of which lies on the floor when someone sat on the couch and tossed the clothes out of their way. The kitchen counters are hidden beneath a mountain of mail, Sunday school coloring pages, and other random items. The table is sticky and cereal crunches on the floor under my feet. The kid’s toys are scattered about and I dare not enter the school room where the list of lessons I had left remain untouched.

This kind of chaos used to leave me a twisted wreck inside. When my kids were little and I went out with friends for the evening, returning to messes like this, often made me think, “What’s the point in leaving for relaxation only to return to this?” Every bit of peace I had gathered while I was out would immediately rush out like air from a balloon, leaving me deflated and discouraged.

Since God opened my eyes to see all things through the eyes of grace, I now see this mess differently. Learning to rejoice and give thanks in all things has changed my perspective. Instead of only seeing the chaos, I now see what did happen while I was gone.The laundry covering all the living room surfaces show me that my husband was considerate to wash clothes. The piles scattered around the house tell me that they had fun together. I see the wet suits drying in the bathroom, knowing it means that they went for a swim. Grass speckled sneakers lie next to the door, showing me that they made it to soccer. I see their thoughtfulness in the empty sink and the dishwasher with the clean light on. I also see that they ate all the food I had made for them to eat while I was away. All a trail of grace left for me to accept with gratitude.

Where chaos, mess, and disorganization once put me on edge, now I see it as evidence of life lived full. They are signs of two boys learning, imagining, and laughing. It reveals the gift of family and of a husband who makes a way for me to go out of town, despite any inconvenience to him.

Sometimes the messes in life can be redeemed through the eyes of grace. Seeing all things, even the messes, as gifts from the Father can transform an anxiety filled heart to one of peace. Living life in the moment, with gratitude, makes the chaos of life a gift to be treasured.

I did my best the next day to make some sense of the tornado that touched down in the house. In between catching up with school work, a doctor’s appointment, and errands, I picked up little by little. By evening though, the laundry still lay all over the living room. Figuring I would tackle it the next day, I drove the kids to Cub Scouts. Pulling into the parking lot, I was surprised to find my husband there because I didn’t think he would have time to go. He took the kids inside and suggested I go on home. And in the quiet of the evening, I folded all the laundry and put it away. Counting each shirt and each sock as gifts, seen only through the eyes of grace.

Counting in community (#1847-1859):

Feeling overwhelmed but knowing that God will help me get everything done that He wants done

The kid’s developing sense of humor

Celebrating my oldest’s eighth birthday

Going through his old scrapbooks with him

Attending a friend’s wedding

Staying at one of my favorite hotels and my husband surprising me with a visit to the spa

A relaxing massage at the hotel’s spa

visiting with old college friends

A friend bringing food over for dinner

Pumpkin crisp for dessert:)

Ending the weekend sick, but knowing God will work out everything left undone

My husband pushing back his flight out of town so that I could rest and get better

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To Walk Alongside the Hurting

18. September 2012 · 20 comments · Categories: Anxiety, Depression, friendship, grief, Spiritual Growth

You’ve seen her before. The one who always sits in the back at church. She averts her gaze, fearful that her eyes will give away all her secrets. She never says much and quickly goes on her way. You want to help, to reach out, but you’re not sure…what if her problems are too much? What if you don’t know what to say? And what if her problems remind you too much of your own?

Source

Scripture calls us as Christians to love one another in the Body, to build one another up, encourage one another, and spur one another on in the faith. It’s hard to do those things for people we barely know. When small talk is the deepest level we’ve gone, we can’t encourage or build up another person. For some circles, it’s not acceptable to be real and honest. We keep our problems and secrets to ourselves. Perhaps we’ve been hurt or misunderstood in the past. Maybe we don’t even know how to let someone else in to see who we really are.

God has given us one another in the body of Christ to speak words of truth and hope into each other’s soul. When two people who have the Spirit residing within them share real life with one another, there is a power at work within them. When we go beneath the surface and speak life affirming words to one another, it stirs the Spirit within, awakening hope.

God will often bring someone into our lives with whom He wants us to encourage. It’s never an accident when we are put in the path of someone who is hurting. When that happens and you wonder what to do…

1. Just listen: You don’t have to know the answer to their problems. You don’t have to take away their pain. You are not there to make their life all better. Just be present. Listen without judgement. Don’t be like Job’s friends who assumed they knew why Job was suffering.

2. Look beneath and to what is happening in the heart: Seek to really know them and what is going on in their heart. Get past the superficial. Find out what God is doing in their life. Explore with them where they are in the journey. Everyone’s story takes them down different roads. What is their story? How is God drawing them closer to Himself? How is He shaping and molding them?

3. Encourage them with the truths of the Gospel: You may not be able to solve their immediate crisis, problem, or circumstance, but you can remind them of the truths that never shake or falter no matter how much the circumstances may cause them to tremble. Truth: they are a treasured possession of God (Ephesians 1:14, Isaiah 43:1), Truth: they are a dearly loved child of the Father (Ephesians 5:1), Truth: they are a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17), Truth: they are an heir of the Kingdom (Galatians 4:7), Truth: they are pure and holy in the sight of God (1 Corinthians 1:30), and Truth: God will continue the work He started in them (Philippians 1:6).

4. Pray with and for them: Ask to pray for them, out loud or even write a prayer down to give them. Be sincere. Too often in our Christian circles we say we will pray for someone and then fail to do so. Ask for specific things you can pray about. Pray for the power of the Gospel to be alive and at work in their life. Pray that they would remember and appropriate the truths listed above.

5. Be real yourself: It is hard for someone to be honest with us if they look at us as though we are perfect and that we have it all together. Be honest about your own battles and the way God has worked through them. Show them that you, like them, are imperfect, yet saved by grace. We are all messes. We all struggle and falter. But we have the same Savior who died to rescue us.

We need each other. We can’t do this journey all alone. God gave us community in the Body of Christ to help us run the race. Sometimes, we ourselves will stumble and need a fellow traveler to help us back up. Other times, God will call us to encourage someone else who is struggling. Let’s reach out to those who are hurting, trusting Christ to give us the wisdom and encouraging words to say. May we strive to be a community of mutual, authentic, and transparent believers who seek to do life together.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

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Peace in the Storm

21. August 2012 · 31 comments · Categories: Anxiety, God's still working on me

The sound of rain pattered on our tin roof. Soft at first, but soon the drops were falling fast, sounding like knuckles rapping on the front door. Then came the low rumbling of thunder. My almost five-year old ran over to me.

“Mom, is there going to be a tornado?”

“It’s just a thunderstorm.”

“Does thunder come with a tornado?” he asked.

“Yes, it does.”

The windows began to shake with each boom of the thunder. Rain poured down even harder.

“Mom, what would we do if there was a tornado? Would we leave?”

My son’s eyes grew wider with each boom and rattle of the glass door next to where he stood. His face was pale, eyes wide, and skin pulled back tight. He paced around the room, looked outside at the storm and then came back around to me.

“Mom, how do you know when it’s a tornado?”

I explained about emergency warning notifications on the tv and told him that if a tornado was nearby, we would be warned. I then checked the weather on the computer. “It’s just a thunderstorm. That’s all.”

He laid down in bed, we snuggled, had our story time and prayed, all to the background sounds of rain, thunder and the wind beating against the windows. I promised him I would return to snuggle with him more after helping his brother get ready for bed.

I know fear well. We’ve been the best of friends for many years. Together, we’ve experienced much of life together including new changes, transitions, challenges, plans, goals, and trials. I’ve longed to rid myself of fear but each time I’ve told it to leave, I back down and give in. Perhaps I’ve become too comfortable with fear and don’t know what I would do without it. Maybe it gives me a false sense of control over my circumstances. It may also be that it’s easier to live with fear than walk by faith into the unknown.

When I think of life’s storms, I think of Jesus calming the squall while on a boat with the disciples. Tired from a day of teaching, He had fallen asleep on the stern. A furious storm rose up and began to overtake the boat. It was such a violent storm that even the experienced fishermen on board thought they would drown. They rushed to Jesus, woke him up, and ask him why he didn’t care enough to help them.

Oh, but isn’t that me? I try to manage my own trials, insisting I know what I am doing. When the fear consumes me, I finally go to the Father and ask for help. But even then, there’s accusation in my tone. “Why are you letting this happen to me?” “Why didn’t you protect me?” “Do you not care?”

After calming the wind and the sea with a simple command, Jesus’ response to them was, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4:40)

It’s lack of faith that creates fear in the face of the storms of life. I despair and think that He has abandoned me. I doubt His love and promises. Yet, since He faced my ultimate storm at the cross so I did not have to, why would I think He would abandon me and leave me all alone to face my little storms? Despite my imperfect faith, my doubt, and my fear, He gives grace. He reminds me that there is no storm left in my life that will sink me, He’s taken care of that. His promise stands, He will never leave me, nor forsake me.

The storm raged on at our house. I heard the windows rattle so hard, I feared they would shatter. Thinking perhaps I was wrong about the storm, I checked the news again. But it remained just a typical Florida style thunderstorm. Shortly thereafter, I went in to check on my son, certain he was waiting for me, curled up under the covers, trembling with fear.

I found him sound asleep.

The next morning, I said, “Ian, did you see that the storm went away?” He shrugged and said, “Yeah.” And then he ran off to play.

I once heard the quote (by whom, unfortunately I can’t remember), “If you don’t have to fear God, you have nothing left to fear.” When our heart is so gripped by love and faith in our Savior because He took on our ultimate storm for us, there is nothing left to fear. We can face anything with confidence because we know we are completely loved. And though storm clouds linger in this life, we know that one day He will return and still all the storms forever.

“I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3

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When the Past Just Won’t Let Go

07. August 2012 · 20 comments · Categories: Anxiety, Depression, Spiritual Growth

I still remember that day in my undergraduate marriage counseling class. Insecure and broken, I came to college full of questions about my past, my purpose, my meaning, and my future. I wanted to understand the chaos I had left behind. Why was my family so controlled by fear, anger, and bittterness? What effect would my past have on my future? How did God fit into all of it?

That day, my professor introduced us to the “genogram.” The genogram is a tool used by marriage counselors to help gain a better understanding about a couple’s familial background. It is similar to a family tree, yet it includes information about the interpersonal relationships in the family, including dysfunction and discord. Like DNA helps us see the genetic markings for inheritable diseases, the genogram reflects generational dysfunctional patterns within a family.

As soon as my professor began describing the genogram, I felt an ominous shadow fall over me. I knew immediately what my genogram would look like. A sense of foreboding enveloped me. Overwhelmed and filled with despair; I was certain my future was etched in stone.

After all, I had fled to this mountain of refuge to escape the pains of childhood. Leaving my painful memories behind, I had hoped to start fresh with a new life. I believed that out on my own, hours away from home, my family’s legacy couldn’t find me. Yet, the further I got in my education, I realized just how hard it is to leave the past behind.

With the anniversary of my grandfather’s death having just past, I think about the legacy he was born into and the one he passed on. Born into poverty and raised in a broken family, he left school after eighth grade to help support his mother and brothers. Deserted by an alcoholic father, his family carried deep wounds that never seemed to heal. He fought in the army during WWII. Arriving one day into the Normandy invasion, he lived to recount his stories to me for years to come. Married to a tired and worn woman, my grandmother carried her own stories from a painful childhood. During the Korean War, when he learned of my grandmother’s emotional breakdown, he left the military to be at her side.

When I looked at my family history that day in college, I believed my life was doomed to remain bound by the chains of my family’s past. The mental illness with which my grandmother struggled all her life, I had seen passed on to others in my family. The dysfunctional styles of communication among family members never abated. The secrets, anger, cutting remarks, and bitterness all continued from one generation to the next. And that’s just one side of my family.

But even in the midst of darkness, there’s always a glimmer of light. After my grandfather’s father left the family, they went to live with his grandmother. While his mother worked multiple jobs, his grandmother helped raise him and his siblings. It was she who shared her faith in God and planted seeds of hope in his heart. It was she who passed on her legacy of faith which he in turn passed on to my father. While my family’s past is rich with pain and filled with hurt, broken, and imperfect people, God has always been at work.

I can look back and see the way He has been there all along, throughout the generations, weaving a story of grace. From a grandmother to a grandson to a son to a daughter to my own children, redemption’s story has been shared throughout the generations. While wounds may linger and scars take time to fade, they are a reminder of why we need a Redeemer and why He came to save.

I’ve learned that while the past has great influence on the future, it is never written in stone. While a genogram is helpful to lay out the past and see the impact it has had on a family, it is not a map for the future. It is only a history lesson and not a prophecy. It has been years since the day I faced my family’s genogram. Since then, my husband and I have been living out our own genogram, with God as the author and writer of our story.

God is in the business of redeeming and making all things new. He takes the stories of our past and redeems them for His glory and our good. He sent His Son, Jesus to break those chains that bind us. Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross frees us from our past and gives us hope for the future. He has given us a new family, one with a perfect Father who never fails, never leaves, and always loves. We are children and heirs of the Living God. We now have a new and perfect family story, a holy legacy, and a bright hope for the future.

Is your genogram riddled with brokenness and discord? Are you burdened with a painful family legacy? Know that Christ died to redeem your past and make a place for you in the family of God. You have been adopted and freed from the chains of the past. Do you know this freedom?

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” 2 Corinthians 5:17

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Galatians 5:1

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Lessons in Faith

05. June 2012 · 19 comments · Categories: Anxiety, God's still working on me, Spiritual Growth

She wears faith like wings and soars above the fear.

When we first met, I was an insecure college freshman, cautious, fearful and shy. A heart full of wounds and battle scars, I often stood on the outside, a mere observer of life. Like a wallflower at the school dance, I watched the world dance around me, because I was too afraid to join in. Despite my flounderings and insecurities, she welcomed me as though I’d always belonged.

Sometimes, redemption from past wounds comes from unconditional acceptance and the open arms of a faith-filled heart.

As a newly wed, I remember listening to her share her testimony to a group of women at my church. She shared her story of deep grief, significant loss, and of an unwavering faith in a sovereign God. My own life’s brokenness was still fresh, yet I hungered for a faith like hers.

It was her gentle love and secure faith that helped me through the uncertainties during the early years in my marriage to a firefighter. When the fires raged, and my fear soared, it was she who encouraged me through it. For it is often those who have been through fires themselves who are most capable of helping others find their way through the smoky haze and to a place beyond the fear.

Recently, she joined us on a family trip to Orlando. Standing in line together for a ride, she shared with us that she used to be afraid of heights. “I used to be afraid of a lot of things. But since the worst thing in my life has already happened, and I survived, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

Her statement continues to linger, stirring my heart and prompting evaluation of my own fears. She, who lost her husband unexpectedly, when her children were ten and thirteen, knows what it is to experience the worst thing in life. She has gone through the fires of suffering, where her faith was forged and sculpted.

It was faith that taught her that even when your world falls apart, God will catch you. Faith showed her there is a reason for everything and everything is in His control. Faith also revealed to her that God is big enough to take all your cries, questions, anger, and fear.

And it’s her faith that continues to teach me what it looks like to trust God in the face of intense uncertainty. I see how faith picked her up and carried her through to the other side of pain and sorrow. I’ve learned that what frightens me most, cannot break me, because God will not let me go.

It’s faith like that of my mother-in-law that inspires me to trust God in spite of my fears. It encourages me to climb to great heights. And it helps me take that giant leap into the unknown…

and soar with wings of faith in the One who will always catch me.

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Redeeming Memories

01. May 2012 · 39 comments · Categories: Anxiety, Depression, God's still working on me, Spiritual Growth · Tags: grace, memories, redemption

One of my earliest memories is from when I was four years old. I was playing in the backyard and heard a loud crash. I ran to the front and saw that my mother had backed the car over my tricycle. I remember her pausing just long enough to make sure it was moved out the way before speeding off down the road. I was too young to understand what or why it had happened. I remember being upset, shocked and confused. As I got older, I learned that my uncle was in crisis and my mother needed to take him to the hospital.

As I get older, the more my memories of the past come to the forefront of my mind. Some of those memories are good and others are painful to recall. Can the same grace that redeems me from my sin also redeem my memories? Is it possible to go back to the past and see things differently?

Sometimes, things seem so much bigger when you are a child. Revisiting a favorite park or place of play that seemed so huge and spacious as a child, as an adult now seems quite small. The slide is actually shorter than you remember, the road you lived on, not so wide, and walk to school, not so far.

My memory of my uncle remains in my mind as an image of a large, vociferous man, with a broad smile and perpetually reeking of smoke. He’s a part of many of my memories because he lived with us off and on throughout my childhood. Suffering from mental illness and a low IQ, he struggled to live on his own. As I got older, I realized just how sick he really was. He had tried to end his life twice while in our home. As an adolescent, I remember talking him through his delusions and paranoia, attempting to calm him down. When I was an adult, I visited him in a group home with my first child and realized he wasn’t as big in reality as he was in my memory. As an adult, I saw him for the confused, simply minded, and mentally ill person he actually was.

As a writer, I spend a lot of time editing my words. I look back over what I’ve written and fix spelling errors, cut out sentences, and sometimes change the article all together. Whatever I don’t like or doesn’t sound right gets removed.

I’ve often wished I could do that with my life.

I would like to edit my childhood, removing the anger, rage, stress, and dysfunction from my family’s story. I would like to take away the rampant history of depression, anxiety, and other mental illness from my immediate and extended family. I’d like to change choices I’ve made, things I’ve said, and places I’ve been.

But I’m not the editor or the author of my life. God is. He’s written my story this way for a reason and for His glory. He has used all the dark parts of my childhood to bring me to Himself and to show me my need for Him. God has written me into His story of redemption where I have joined an assembly of other broken, sinful people.

As He changes me, I am able to look back into my memories and see them from another perspective. I see the dark, painful, and difficult experiences differently now. Not just because time has passed. Not because the pain has lessened. And not because my memories are distorted in some way.

God is in the business of redeeming and He can even redeem my memories. He’s showing me things I hadn’t seen before. Like Dickens’ ghost of Christmas past, I can see parts of the story I simply wasn’t aware of.

Most of my childhood, we lived in a simple townhouse outside our nation’s capital. Partly to pay the bills, but maybe more so for ministry, my parents rented out a room in our small house. The renters who lived with us were not average people who kept to themselves. Instead, they were all wounded people who struggled with life and their own demons. In addition to my uncle, another woman with bipolar disorder lived with us. On another occasion, an alcoholic lived with us. I also remember a single mom with a young child. Then there was the friend of the family who was delusional as well as a chronic a liar and a thief.

Most of my life I’ve looked back on those years in disbelief. It was chaotic and not a good environment to raise young children. It was confusing, disruptive and sometimes frightening. For many years, I had an almost nightly nightmare that never went away until I moved away from home.

In recent years, I look back on these experiences and see my parents efforts at trying to help the lost and lonely. I see them reaching out to the marginalized, just as our Savior did. And they still do the same thing today.

I also see those years as preparing me for the journey into the field of psychology. Some days I regret pursuing training in mental health and wish I had gone into journalism or literature instead. But God had a story written for me, one that included me developing an empathy and understanding of the weak and helpless.

My memories are still there, the good, the bad and the ugly. But God has given me grace to see them at a different angle, through the lens of the gospel of grace. I can see His hand at work through all of it and know that “He works all things for good.”

While we can’t go back and edit the dark parts of our life, we can allow God to work through our memories. Ask Him to show you how He was always there, how He never stepped away from your story, and how He always was in control. Ask for grace to see your life the way He sees it: broken yet made whole, wounded yet healed, and lost yet redeemed.

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On Worry and God’s Love

15. February 2012 · 24 comments · Categories: Anxiety, Depression, God's still working on me, Spiritual Growth · Tags: lies, Matthew 6:25-34, trust, worry

I spend my days scattering seeds of worry into soil made fertile by the lies I believe. My depression sprouts quick, like weeds that takes over a garden. After all, it was a lie that planted that first weed back in the beginning. And it was that same lie that took deep root, spread and brought death to the world.

It’s when I’m teaching my Sunday School class that God often teaches me. I’m honoring my vow to help train each tender shoot in the truth of God’s Word. I cover one child’s eyes with a scarf, turning him round and round. I ask him to walk forward, and to listen for the voices of his friends as they direct him safely to his destination. When the fun is over, we read from the Sermon on the Mount and talk about worry.

We live life blind, not being able to see beyond the moment in front of us. It requires trust in the love of God, believing that He will guide our next step.

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:34)

I then do an object lesson with my class. I show them a bottle filled with water that I’ve labeled “trust.” I show them another bottle filled with oil that I’ve labeled “worry.” I pour one into the other and shake it. Just as oil and water do not mix, trust and worry don’t mix either.

When I worry, I am not trusting in the love of God. I have ceased listening for His voice to guide me in darkness. Instead, I listen to the lies that tell me to worry about what’s ahead of me: “I can’t do it.” “What if…” “I’ll never make it, it’s too hard.”

It’s trust in His love that guides me in the darkness. It’s believing that He cares for me much more than He cares for the creation whom He feeds and dresses each day. When I tune my heart to hear His voice, the soil of my heart becomes hostile to the lies that produce offspring of worry, anxiety, and fear. My depression can’t grow without healthy seeds and fertile soil.

Before the kids leave, I hand them each a sheet of paper. At the top is written, “When I am worried, I will count His gifts.” I teach them to count His blessings because remembering His love chokes out worry. As we talk about His gifts, I realize that I have reaped what I have sown. In sowing seeds of worry, I’ve made it easy for depression to take root and grow.

The kids leave to return to their parents, hopefully with greater thanks and less worry in their hearts. I pack up my things and turn out the light to the Sunday School classroom. As I close the door, I thank Him in my heart for the grace that changes hearts from that full of weeds to a beautiful harvest of blessing. And I begin to scatter seeds of thanks for His endless love.

“Worry is the antithesis of trust. You simply cannot do both. They are mutually exclusive.” Elizabeth Elliot

“Satan is ever seeking to inject that poison into our hearts to distrust God’s goodness - especially in connection with his commandments. That is what really lies behind all evil, lusting and disobedience. A discontent with our position and portion, a craving from something which God has wisely held from us. Reject any suggestion that God is unduly severe with you. Resist with the utmost abhorrence anything that causes you to doubt God’s love and his loving kindness toward you. Allow nothing to make you question the Father’s love for his child.” A.W. Pink

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? “And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith? “So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. “So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today. Matthew 6:25-34

Linking up with:

And Word Filled Wednesday

When You Feel Inadequate

02. September 2011 · 1 comment · Categories: Anxiety, Parenting, Spiritual Growth · Tags: Anxiety, Christian Parenting, inadequacy

Do you ever feel inadequate? It’s that feeling of emotional paralysis where you just don’t know what to do. Like a deer caught in the head lights of a car; you don’t know if you should run or stay and fight.

I have never felt the most inadequate as I have since becoming a parent. So often I am in a parenting situation where I just don’t know what to do. I have a son with obsessive compulsive behaviors and high emotional intensities. I am often faced with issues with him where I feel powerless to know how to respond.

When I feel inadequate, I often ask “Why God? Why me?” I can’t fact this giant before me. It’s too big, too much, too overwhelming.

To read the rest of this post, visit CSAHM.

Adopted Forever

15. July 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Anxiety, Depression, Spiritual Growth

Born into poverty and raised in a broken family, he left school after eighth grade to help support his family. Deserted by his alcoholic father, his family carried deep wounds that never seemed to heal. Joining the army, he fought in WWII. Arriving one day into the Normandy invasion, he lived to recount his stories for years to come. He was married to a tired and worn woman with her own stories of pain. During the Korean War, upon learning of his wife’s emotional breakdown, he left the military to be at her side.

With the anniversary of my grandfather’s death approaching, I think about his life and his faith. I think about how God can pull us out of deep pits of pain and despair, giving us new life.

To read the rest of this post, visit CSAHM, my writing home on Fridays.