I have a countdown app on my phone that lets me know how much time I have left on this earth. Currently, I’m at 58 years, one month, and nine days until the date of my demise. I suppose that’s a little odd, and begs the question of how I even found the data to make such a countdown.
When I was in a family class in college, our professor had us fill out a form that gave a guess as to how long we were going to live. It used family history, health, and lifestyle information to make an educated guess as to how many years we might last on this earth. If I remember correctly, my number was 113.
Around that time, two of my great-grandparents passed away at the age of 99. They were both heavy smokers, but somehow lived to be nearly 100. And my great-grandma on the other side was still alive and healthy (she eventually passed away at the age of 101). All four of my grandparents were still living, and were in reasonably good health. My parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins were all pretty healthy as well.
When I combined all of that information in a very unscientific manner, I decided that I was going to live until the age of 100. Somehow, that number stuck in my brain, and I kind of accepted January 21, 2079, (the day I will turn 100) as the approximate date of my demise.
As the years passed, and I began to experience all of the hardship life throws at us, I started to really get excited for the fact that this world is not my home. I love my life and it is full of so much beauty. But like most of us who have put our trust in Jesus, we look forward to a day when our trials are over and we get to go home. Heaven is a place of rest, joy, exploration, and all things new. It’s finally seeing my Savior face-to-face and giving Him a really long hug.
When the hard days came, I began to remind myself that home is coming. Therefore, when I got a smart phone, it only made sense to add a countdown so that I could always be reminded of how much time I left. Not exactly so I would know what I have left to endure, but so I could make each day count.
Obviously, I know that the exact date is quite arbitrary. I could pass away tomorrow from an aneurysm, or I could live to 120 (though my life insurance company doesn’t exactly think that’s likely). But having a countdown has been good for me because: a) It reminds me that there is an end-date, and that I should make the most of each day, month, and year; and b) it makes me feel funny and quirky and provides a good (if slightly morbid) topic of conversation. 😊
In the midst of all these hardships of life, I’ve prayed for many years the words of this hymn: “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it; prone to leave the God I love. Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it; seal it for Thy courts above.”
I know my weaknesses; I know my failings. To my shame, I know from experience that it doesn’t take long for my life to steer away from Jesus. Hard times cause me to question Him. Good times cause me to simply forget His presence in my life. I want to be on a trajectory that’s constantly bringing me closer to Jesus, but I’ve found that it doesn’t take much more than a nudge to get me off course.
It’s because of this that I’ve prayed that hymn repeatedly. I do love Him; I want to be close to Him. I have experience after experience that has caused me to know that my life is infinitely better with Him. So, I’ve asked Him to seal my wandering heart to His over and over again.
As you know, depression is something I’ve been fighting consistently for several years. I’ve had good days and bad days, but overall it’s been a constant struggle. Recently, I finally realized that depression may be something I struggle with for the rest of my life. When I realized this, my first response was despair. It feels so hopeless, so daunting. Those 58 years I have left are terrifying. But then God gently reminded me of this hymn that I’ve prayed for years. He reminded me that when I’m depressed is when I’ve felt closest to Him. I’ve had to rely on His strength to get me through each day, each hour, in order to simply function. His Word has brought me comfort. Wandering away hasn’t even been a temptation in those times because I’ve been clinging so tightly to Him.
So, if depression is what God is using to seal my heart to His, then I will embrace it gladly. Because not only does it bind my heart to His, He also heals my heart at the same time. It’s not as if some all-powerful being is using my pain to make me subservient to Him. Instead, a loving God is using something in my life that is awful to draw me in to His arms every day. He seeks me in my pain, and He heals it.
Just like the Apostle Paul prayed that God would take away whatever his “thorn in the flesh” was, I’ve prayed that God would take away my depression. And maybe, in time, He will answer that prayer. But for now, I find comfort that, like Paul, this “weakness” makes God strong in my life. I have a Comforter that will never abandon me and holds my in the midst of my darkness.
And if depression is what it takes for my heart to be sealed to God’s for all eternity, then I will walk the next 58 years with strong hope in the midst of sorrow. I will wake each day with an Advocate who will fight on my behalf. I will cling to Him, knowing that the “courts above” are waiting for me, and that He has sealed my heart to His.
Last week, I returned from spending a week in the beautiful country of Haiti. I know – it’s a terrible time to travel. But my friend, Morgan, was moving back to Haiti, and I chose to travel with her to help her move and get settled in. Being away from my family during such a crazy time wasn’t easy, and in addition to that, I’m isolating from them now that I’m home, just in case I picked up COVID during my travels. It’s not fun, for either Josh, myself, or the kids, but it was worth it to us to help Morgan and have an opportunity to see her world.
There are many things I learned or was reminded of on my fourth trip to Haiti:
I’m not as scared of lizards as I thought I was.
It’s worth it to pay the money to ride the horse up the mountain instead of hiking it–especially if you’re over the age of 40.
A moto (small-scale motorcycle) can carry any combination of four humans, three humans and three goats, or two humans and a big screen TV.
I am terrible at learning new languages.
A house that is not lived in for seven months will play host to a large number of banana spiders, lizards, and tarantulas.
Avocados can grow as big as a toddler’s head.
Always bring more cash.
You CAN seat 15 people in a minivan in 90-degree heat, and it is done on a regular basis in some parts of the world.
Tour guides can be aggressive and territorial.
The back spot on the moto is the least comfortable for your butt, but most comfortable in terms of personal space.
In addition to this, I was reminded of another very important fact — road maintenance is a luxury I am very thankful for.
During our time traveling to Haiti and also within the country, we spent a lot of time on a variety of different roads. Interstates, highways, side streets, dirt roads, runways, rock roads, streets with trash burning in the middle of them, wide-open roads, traffic-congested streets, and trails that simply bypassed the road because the road itself was so terrible. As we spent many hours on these roads, it became pretty clear that road maintenance in many parts of Haiti is minimal at best.
As this wasn’t the first time I’d spent a lot of time on Haitian roads, this wasn’t a surprise to me. In fact, more surprising was that there are actually some pretty nice roads in some of the areas we traveled, and my butt was quite thankful for those parts.
But as we were bouncing along one day, I began to reflect on the importance of maintenance (despite the fact that my brain was drumming against my skull). That morning I had woken up simply feeling really down and depressed. There was no obvious reason why – it wasn’t the normal time of the month when I get depressed, I was feeling good, I was eating fairly healthily, and I’d been having a great time. But sometimes this happens – sometimes I just wake up feeling depressed for no clear reason.
Right now, I’d say that I’m in “maintenance mode” with my depression. I recently adjusted the level of my anti-depressants, and that change allowed me to feel great on a pretty much everyday basis. I haven’t had many down days, no suicidal thoughts, and I’d been handling stressful situations well (such as packing and preparing to leave my husband and kids for over a week in the midst of a pandemic and hybrid schooling). I’ve spent the past couple of years working hard at getting a handle on my depression, and right now it’s (finally) fairly smooth sailing. It took a lot of REALLY HARD work to get here, and I’m enjoying it immensely.
But here’s the thing about anything we build in life – it has to be maintained. If you think about the roads we went on in Haiti, most of them were full of washed out areas, giant holes, mud pits, and rocks. Driving a four-wheeled vehicle on the roads was a slow process – it was faster to take a moto because you could dodge the holes so much easier. I’m guessing that at some point when those roads were first built, you could go over them fairly easily. And as I said, there are actually some roads that are currently in great shape. But it’s entirely possible that by the next time I go to Haiti, those roads could be full of potholes and cracks as well, because the likelihood of them being maintained is so small.
The same is true with depression. I’ve done the hard work. I’ve changed significant things about the way I live my life. I’ve prayed, studied, eliminated major stressors in my life, found medical solutions, consulted with friends and professionals – basically I paved a brand new road for my mental health.
And now that I’m in “maintenance mode,” I know that doesn’t mean I can just sit back and ride it out, or try to go back to life as it was before. Instead, I take stock of where I’m at and how I’m feeling on a regular basis. I keep an eye out for cracks and warning signs. I’m aware of potential pitfalls that may come and how my mental health may be affected by them. I wish I could say that my depression is something that I’ve been healed from. I’m sure that’s possible for some, but so far it hasn’t happened for me. I’ve realized that this is something that may be with me long-term – possibly all my life. And so I’m learning what it means to maintain my mental health.
For me, that looks like paying attention on those days when I wake up feeling down. It means knowing that often simply eating something is a helpful tool for fighting that feeling. It means looking at the calendar and being aware that there are usually certain times of the month that are more difficult and preparing for that. It involves knowing that sometimes a walk with a friend will get me out of a funk, or that doing something financial helps me use a different part of my brain and causes my thoughts to shift. It’s being aware of what foods I’m eating and how that affects how I’m feeling. It’s reading Scriptures that have given me strength before, and crying out to God when I feel overwhelmed. It’s reaching out to a few key friends to ask for prayer. It means knowing my limits and saying no to things that will push me past an acceptable margin – and knowing when it’s worth pushing past that margin occasionally for the right reasons. It’s knowing when to consider jumping back into counseling or scheduling a med check-up with my doctor.
So that morning when I woke up feeling down, I ate breakfast, took my meds, told Morgan how I was feeling, and texted Josh to ask for prayer. I didn’t allow the depression to hijack my day – though there are days when that has definitely happened! But I addressed it in ways that I knew would help, and as the day went on, I slowly began to feel better. The next day was a little easier, and within a couple of days I was feeling great again.
Maintenance is all of these things. It involves awareness of the problem on a subconscious level — a willingness to acknowledge that the problem hasn’t gone away, but also acknowledging that some major battles have been fought and won to get me to this point. And it involves knowing how to address the minor problems that come up, before they become major problems again.
Maybe you’re still in the midst of the battle, but I pray it gives you hope to know that it’s possible to hit a “maintenance mode.” Keep fighting for it, and when you get there be sure that you actually do the work to maintain the ground that has already been won. Trust me, it’s a beautiful place to be.
Last weekend I had the opportunity to spend some time with my sister and nieces at a beautiful cabin in the Colorado mountains. We had a great time laughing, hiking, resting, and playing together. As a bonus, I also got to spend a little time with my sister-in-law, her husband, and my other nieces and nephew. The time with family was refreshing.
Even beyond family, though, there is something about being in the mountains that always feels like coming home to me. Despite many prayers over the years, God has never said “yes” to us moving to Colorado. In many ways, I’m really ok with that – I love our home, our community, and our village of friends. It would be very hard to move away from that. But a big chunk of my heart is in Colorado, and some of my deepest moments of growth have happened in the shadow of a mountain.
That’s why this past weekend, on Sunday morning, I hiked up the mountain behind the cabin to worship and spend some time alone with Jesus. While there, I was again reminded of some important lessons I’ve learned through my experiences with God in the mountains – experiences that have directly shaped the intimacy I have with Jesus. And intimacy with Jesus is not a phrase I use lightly. Through my deepest struggles over the years, especially with depression, that closeness with Jesus has been what has pulled me through. It has been an anchor that has held me to the Truth, even when my heart, mind, and body were overwhelmed with sorrow and struggle.
So I want to share these experiences with you. Perhaps you desire to seek God out, and if so, I pray you’ll bear these things I’ve learned in mind. However, if you have to learn them on your own, I understand that too. The lessons we learn for ourselves are often the hardest, but they stick the strongest. But I will still share my stories here, because I want to bear witness to the things God has taught me.
First let me say, however, that in all the things I’ve learned and heard from God over the years, Scripture has been the truest and most reliable way for me to hear Him speak. Consistent time in His Word has filled me and reminded me of the truth of who Christ is. It’s stretched me and challenged me, given me comfort and peace. It’s been the measuring rod of truth for every emotion and conviction I’ve had. Any time I believe I’ve heard God speak, I’ve measured it against the truth of Scripture because I know that my thoughts are fleeting and my heart is easily swayed. Scripture is an anchor for me.
All that being said, I want to share with you three stories of times I learned very important lessons on the topic of listening to God. I don’t think I’ll include them all in this specific post – that would take too much time. But today I want to get started with a time I learned about the silence of God.
Many years ago, before Josh and I had kids (so maybe 17, 18 years ago?), I was at a bit of a low place in my relationship with God. I don’t remember specifically what was going on, though based on the timing I’m guessing our struggle with infertility was part of it. I mostly remember feeling almost compelled to go and spend time with God in the mountains. In my arrogance, I thought that if I spent some time and money to “go be with God,” that He would be so honored by my efforts that He would show up and speak to me. I was certain that my time with Him would lead to clear direction for my future and lots of warm fuzzies. 😊
So I went to Estes Park, and spent several days hiking, reading, and praying. In many ways I absolutely loved it. It was restful and peaceful. Rocky Mountain National Park is one of my favorite places on the planet, and I loved hiking the trails and being in nature. But the reality was, that despite all the time I had poured into God, I truly felt that He was silent. He hadn’t shown up. He didn’t speak to me. He was there, I suppose, but there was no “aha” moment or deep life-changing word from God. I felt that He had held back from me what I had been seeking.
On my drive back home through Western Kansas, I became increasingly discouraged and angry. And I laid out my hurt before God. I told Him that I didn’t understand why He had been silent. I had put myself out there. I had invested money and time in order to hear Him and spend time with Him, and it felt like He had barely shown up. I told Him that if that’s the kind of God He is, that won’t show up when I put effort into spending time with Him, then I wasn’t sure that He was a God that I wanted a part of. His silence had been painful, it had hurt, and it led me to doubt His love for me.
I fully believe that God can handle it when we rail against Him. He wants us to be honest, and He’s big enough to handle our doubts, our complaints, and even our arrogance. But that doesn’t mean that He won’t put us in our place when the situation requires it. And as I laid out my case against Him, that is exactly what God did.
As I was about an hour away from home, I could see a thunderstorm forming in front of me. At this point, I had pretty much decided that my relationship with God was going to have some big changes. I couldn’t trust Him anymore. I couldn’t give my life to a Being who didn’t show up when I showed up. But as I drove into the thunderstorm, in the final leg of my trip, about as far away from the mountains as I could get, I finally began to hear God speak.
The thunderstorm was vicious. It was loud. There was incredible wind, blinding rain, large hail, and thunder and lightning that pounded the sky. I quickly pulled over – there was no way to drive through this. And as I sat there, a tiny insignificant creature at the mercy of a simple Kansas thunderstorm, I clearly heard God say, “Yes, I am here. I have always been here. But I am mighty. I am powerful. And I will speak when I want to speak, and I will be silent when I want to be silent.”
And then, as the storm moved away, a double rainbow filled the sky, touching the ground on both sides of the interstate. This wasn’t the setting I had imagined God would use to speak to me, but perhaps because it was so out of place is why I remember it so clearly. And in the rainbow I heard the promise from God that He would always be with me. That He loves me with an everlasting love. That despite my arrogance and my desire to set up the perfect way for Him to speak to me, He alone is God. I am not. He may be silent at times, but the promise that He is there is always true. He is worthy of my life, my praise, and my submission to His leading in my life. I can trust His power in my life as much as I can trust His love. No, He didn’t speak in the way I’d hoped. No, He didn’t give me a clear and definite path forward – at least not in the way I’d expected. Instead, He showed up in His time and in His way and reminded me that in the midst of the silence and in the midst of the storm, He is there, and He is mighty beyond my understanding.
And that is what I needed to hear from Him the most.
When I started this blog, one thing I intended to write about is the medical aspect of my depression. I’ve hesitated a bit to share this, because frankly, I’m not a doctor. I have no medical experience or training. In fact, most medical procedures make me a bit light-headed. When my mom injured her collarbone in a skiing accident, I was in the hospital room when the doctor tried to shove it back into place. I was just standing there watching, not bothered at all, and then suddenly I realized I was kind of woozy and that I might faint – not my finest moment. 😊 I can tell myself all about mind over matter, but at some point my body and my mind separate and I just can’t handle some things. Clearly, the medical world is not the best place for me.
The other reason I’m hesitant to share is that I don’t want to give false hope. Depression comes in many forms and for many reasons. Just because I found answers in the route I took, doesn’t mean that is the route for everyone. I still maintain that healthy coping skills, learned through a trained counselor, can have the biggest impact in your ability to survive depression. A healthy community of friends and family who support you is equally important. And I promise you a deep relationship and dependency on Jesus is what got me through this more than anything.
However, despite my reservations and caveats, I do feel compelled to share a bit of my story, in hopes that it might help someone else who may have a similar source of their depression. I may not be anything close to a medical expert, but I have lived in my body for 41 years, and I had a front-row seat to everything that had an effect on my battle with depression. I studied my symptoms and every attempt at a cure very closely. I balanced the insights and input from multiple doctors with my own careful observations. I am NOT an expert on your situation, but I can definitely tell you what I learned about mine. I hope in some small way that it helps.
Several years ago, when I finally realized that I was truly struggling with depression, my husband gave me some very wise advice. He suggested that I start to keep track of how I was feeling on a day-to-day basis. In a small notebook, I started recording daily how I was feeling. I created a number scale that helped – “1” meant I was extremely happy, “3” meant I felt good and pretty normal, and “10” meant I was suicidal. Between “3” and “10” was a broad range of varying levels of depression. Eventually I also added a similar scale for anxiety, as that became more and more pronounced. Along with the date, I also included the day of my menstrual cycle. This really helped me track and confirm the fact that the severity of my depression had a very direct correlation to the cycle my hormones were undergoing every month. Over the course of time, I had gone from having a few days of PMS-like symptoms each month, to three solid weeks of hard-core depression each month. I had suspected hormonal issues all along, but to see hard evidence was simultaneously daunting and empowering.
Armed with that information, I spent months (and beyond) pursuing a solution. I met with my therapist as well as trusted friends and mentors. I read books and took a personal retreat to Colorado for a time of reflection and rest. Eventually I took a leave of absence from my job, and then quit my job when it was clear that would be best for my mental health. But alongside the spiritual, mental, and emotional healing I sought, I knew there were physical issues that needed to be addressed.
Over these months and years, I saw/spoke to several doctors, received guidance from nurses, tried multiple medications and supplements in varying dosages with all their side effects, had one trip to the ER, and underwent a lot of testing to help determine my underlying issues. None of it was easy. I had to balance advice from multiple doctors, friends who had tried supplements and oils that worked for them, and well-meaning people who advised that if I simply exercised more I’d feel better. There was one day where I saw both my functional medicine doctor and my primary care doctor within an hour of each other – both who are individuals I highly respect – and I had to weigh their separate advice and make the decision for myself what was the next best step forward.
I could detail all of this for you – and to be honest I started to, and then deleted it all – but seriously it’s really long. So here’s something of a (still too long) summary and advice that hopefully will help you understand the physical aspects that may be involved with an individual’s depression.
The first bit of advice is to be persistent and patient when pursing the medication that’s right for you, as it could take awhile to find the right one. I have several friends who had success on a low dose of the first medication they tried. I was not so lucky, but it’s good to know that it can happen. I tried three (maybe four?) different medications at varying dosages over the course of several months. Each had awful side effects for me – the main side effect being extreme tension and anxiety. I was jittery a lot, my legs would shake anytime I was sitting still, and stress sent me into a tailspin. Thankfully, my primary care doctor and his nurse were amazing at helping me walk this road. Eventually I took a DNA test that helped determine the best medication for me. That medication still had those side effects, but I learned to live with them and adjust dosages when the side effects became too pronounced. I am still on that medication now, and it truly does help me to be more stable and to get through the worst days. If you do get on a medication, be sure to read the side effects closely. Some will go away in time, but others are dangerous – serotonin syndrome is a real and scary thing. You have to be the one who cares for yourself and is aware of what you’re feeling… and voices your concerns over and over again to doctors as needed.
The other thing I would say is to look carefully at underlying issues that may not even seem connected to depression. When I hit a point where my medication was working, but I still wanted to figure out what was going on, I decided to see a functional medicine doctor based on the advice of several friends. He used a heavily-scientific approach, testing various systems of the body to see how symptoms might be connected. I really appreciated the scientific approach he had – I was afraid he was just going to tell me to stop eating gluten and call it good (which would be sad, because I really love bread!). Unfortunately, this was an expensive process, but we had health account money that had to be used by the end of the year, so we did it. I’m not saying you have to do this – I certainly don’t have it in the budget anymore, so I know that it’s not realistic for most – but it is wise to look beyond medication as the only physical cure.
Because I had kept track of my depression and my cycle alongside it, I was 99.9% sure that my depression was based on my hormones. More than that, though, testing revealed that it was really gut issues that were the root cause of my hormonal imbalance and my resulting depression. For most of my adult life I had dealt with acid reflux, and had been on acid reflux medication for at least five years just to keep me from a constant upset stomach. I had also taken a stool softener for years on the advice of a nurse practitioner because I had intestinal pain from an over-abundance of gas. That, combined with a diagnosis of SIBO (Small-Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth) – an intestinal infection – meant that my digestive system was seriously struggling. On top of that, the tests showed that my iron levels were too high, my cortisol levels were tanked (that’s from years of living a ridiculously stress-filled life for too many years), and my liver was inflamed. All of those things explained many weird and annoying issues I’d had over the years – things that my doctor could never quite figure out.
Interestingly, it was the intestinal infection that proved to be at the root of most of my problems. Research and my experience with medications showed that depression often happens when our body doesn’t produce enough of the hormone serotonin. What I hadn’t realized is that serotonin is primarily created in the gut. And because my gut wasn’t healthy, my brain couldn’t be healthy. Years of antibiotics for various reasons, along with band-aid medications for reflux and gas, had created a very unhealthy balance of bacteria in my digestive system. I had far too much bad bacteria, and not nearly enough good bacteria. In addition to that, reproductive hormones are closely tied with gut health, which may have contributed to my years-long struggles with PCOS, PCBS, PMDD, infertility, heavy periods, and inconsistent menstrual cycles.
So my functional medicine doctor helped me fight my gut infection with supplements, though I imagine my primary care doctor could have done the same thing if he’d realized that he needed to look deeper at my digestive issues and their ties to my depression. I took supplements that fought the infection, while also taking probiotics to replace the bad bacteria with good. I stopped taking my acid reflex meds and stool softener. And then, over the course of the next few months, some remarkable changes happened… that landed me in the ER. I know, I know, that doesn’t sound good, but really, when we sat back and figured it all out, it was actually a sign that my body was healing.
You see, once my digestive system started healing, my body began to create its own serotonin again. Which was amazing! However, the only way we figured that out was when I started having some strange situations where I started passing out/nearly passing out. I got incredibly dizzy, disoriented, couldn’t sit up straight, and it usually happened right after I ate. When it happened pretty severely one time, we decided to go to the ER. Unfortunately, all they did was run a bunch of tests, say I was fine, and look at me like I was crazy for taking supplements. But when I saw my primary care doctor the next day, he was quickly able to see that the issue was serotonin syndrome—an excess of serotonin in the body. He immediately lowered my very high dosage of anti-depressant. I had been on 225 mg, and I went down to 75 mg within a few days. And suddenly I was back to normal. As we reflected on what happened, and conferred with my functional medicine doctor, it became clear that my body had finally started developing its own serotonin, so it no longer needed such a high boost from my anti-depressant. The combination of my own serotonin, plus the excess from the anti-depressant had flooded my body with too much serotonin, hence the passing out and other weird symptoms.
Over the coming months our money for health expenses ran out, so I stopped seeing my functional medicine doctor. It was a hard decision, but we just couldn’t afford to keep going when insurance didn’t cover any part of it. But I have been able to maintain my gut health through probiotics. It’s actually interesting too the other ways my body changed during this time. I used to be cold ALL THE TIME – now I actually get hot. I also gained ten pounds – not my favorite change, but I think my low weight before hadn’t been healthy in some ways. I also developed seasonal allergies, oddly enough. So my body clearly went through some not-so-great changes, and unfortunately I never was able to ask my functional medicine doctor where all that came from. However, my depression has been manageable, and I even reduced my anti-depressant dosage again. I’ll take ten pounds and some seasonal allergies if it means that my depression is under control.
I have noticed that when I’m on a lower-quality probiotic my depression gets worse, so I have to be careful to buy something that has the right ingredients (note: high quality doesn’t necessarily mean more expensive, but you do need to look for the right things – ask me if you need some help finding something).
In addition to this, on the advice of his therapist, we started to give our son who had struggled with depression a probiotic designed for kids. That small change made a big difference for him too. In hindsight, he had been on antibiotics several times one year because he had recurring sinus infections, and the probiotic helped him build up the good bacteria in his system again. As a result, he became a much happier kid and didn’t have the down moments he’d had for so long.
Trust me when I say, I’m not selling something here. I don’t have a link for a probiotic or supplements that would benefit me or a friend. I buy my probiotics on Amazon, because I like my free two-day shipping. 😊 I just want you to know that although anti-depressants, therapy, Jesus, friends, and family are all VERY important parts of the healing process, there may be some underlying medical issues that are worth looking into. Our culture is not exactly known for healthy eating, and our medical world is very quick to throw a prescription at any symptom that may pop up. In fact, there’s even more to my story than what I’ve already shared, including anti-anxiety meds, a not-so-great neurologist, CT scans, a brain scan, and a recommendation of anti-seizure meds despite inconclusive results. Navigating the medical world was no easy task for me, even when I had a primary care doctor who I respected very much. Despite all that, I’ve learned that the systems of our body are interconnected, and there is wisdom at looking at the whole picture of your health when trying to get to the bottom of mental health issues.
All this being said, I know I still have a lot to learn. I still struggle with PMS and its accompanying depression some months, though usually just for a few days instead of three weeks. I’m still on a low-dose of my anti-depressant, and plan to be on it for the foreseeable future. I’ve had to try out various probiotics and ways of eating when things have seemed a little off. And realistically, I’m a 41-year-old woman. I have years of fluctuating hormones ahead of me and I honestly don’t know what to expect with that. I know I will have to adjust and adapt and keep learning about the systems of my body and how I can keep myself healthy both mentally and physically.
But I’m thankful I have a way forward. And when depression hits hard I have coping skills that I’ve learned to help me fight it. I have Truth I can rely on when the voices of self-hatred start. I have people I can confide in who willingly walk this road with me.
I pray the same for you.
As always, if I can help in any way, or if you want more information, please feel free to contact me. The worst thing you can do is keep quiet when you need help. There is no freedom in silence.
Fair warning: When reading this post you’re going to have to stifle themiddle school boy inside you. I know, I know. The use of the word “but” creates so many opportunities for jokes, elbow nudges, and giggles. I am the mom of three boys, so trust me that I see the danger in the use of this word in any context. BUT (see what I did there?), I have confidence in your maturity. Or at least, I have confidence that you can pretend to be mature for a little while. 😊
Over the years of my faith, I’ve found much comfort in the Word of God. I’ve also found heartache, confusion, challenge, hope, insight, wisdom, rebuke, direction, and much, much more. It’s not an easy book to read, because it dives deep into your heart and mind, requiring a response to the most important questions you’ll ever encounter. Within that has come wild comfort in my darkest times. My journals during my times of deepest depression are filled with scripture after scripture that showed me how deeply God understood my pain, and how desperately He wanted to be my salvation within it.
One passage that has stuck with me for many years is Psalm 13:
“How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and everyday have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
my enemy will say, 'I have overcome him,'
and my foes will rejoice when I fall."
Many times, I have been able to connect with the honesty and the vulnerability shown by the author of this psalm. He even goes so far as to demand an answer from God in the midst of his angst and sorrow. The fact that this is recorded in the midst of a book of worshipful psalms says to me that God is not afraid of our sadness, our hopelessness, our pain, and our questions. He can handle our doubts and our fears, and does not shy away from us when the pain of life overwhelms us.
However, the psalmist doesn’t stop here. He continues:
"BUT I trust in Your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in Your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
for He has been good to me.”
The author reaches inside himself, recalling the things of the past that his God has done and the ways He has come through for him. And he chooses to remember that God is faithful. He elects to sing to his God, trusting that in the midst of the sorrow and pain, God has brought salvation, and will continue to do so. It’s a deliberate choice he makes, and the use of the word “but” is powerful here. Life is incredibly hard right now, BUT I will choose to trust the One who has proven Himself trustworthy.
In addition to this, Jesus Himself spoke words of comfort to His disciples on the night before He was crucified. After explaining to them the trials and the joy that were imminent, He said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. BUT take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
And Romans 5:6-8 shows God reaching to us at our lowest point: “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. BUT God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Ephesians 2:1-5 illustrates this as well: “As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world….BUT because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions.”
These are just a few examples of how God does not use logic the way He could, but instead reaches to us in our lowest times. Scripture is full of these, “but God” moments. If you read closely, you’ll find that God’s logic consistently bends in our favor. He does not say, “You tried your hardest, BUT it wasn’t enough.” He doesn’t say, “I love you, BUT you still must pay this price.” He doesn’t say, “You are my child, BUT you must learn to walk on your own.”
Instead, He whispers and shouts over and over again, “Life is hard. Sin is impossible to overcome. You will have pain on this earth. BUT TAKE HEART! I have overcome the world! I am your salvation! You don’t have to strive – I have already paid the price that will redeem you from the pit. I love you with an everlasting love.”
You see, He uses this one little conjunction that could be construed as a negative, and instead switches it to the positive – using it to reassure us of His deep love and salvation. It’s beautiful and poignant and brings me peace. I am so unworthy of His love, but He gives it so freely.
I could end this here. However, I feel led to comment on the misuse of this word. I’ve seen a sad theme lately among many of my friends and acquaintances, and it has broken my heart. I don’t think it’s done out of hatred or unkindness, but maybe simply confusion and a lack of perspective.
As you know, there has been a huge momentum swing for the black community over the course of the past month. Years, decades, and centuries of abuse, neglect, bias, and racism have come to a head, and the world is finally starting to realize that there is a real issue here. I am heartened by so many of my white friends and family who are standing with and using their influence to fight for those who have been marginalized and damaged by systemic racism. We are reading, learning, listening, and doing our best to come alongside our black brothers and sisters – joining them in their battle and validating the pain they have felt. We are confronting our own white privilege and trying to understand our role in changing the story.
Unfortunately, some of the story is being lost by this word, BUT. We are intelligent people, so we want to see all sides of the issue. And social media will certainly give you all sides of the issue if you have any diversity at all in your friends and acquaintances. So, what started as people standing together in the face of injustice and racism quickly shifted to:
“I know they are suffering, BUT they shouldn’t be rioting, causing physical damage, and being violent.”
“That police officer shouldn’t have used excessive force, BUT if the perpetrator hadn’t resisted arrest then none of this would have happened in the first place.”
“There are definitely some bad cops out there, BUTmost are good.”
“I know protesting is important, BUT why do they get to gather in large groups when I can’t go to a graduation or a baseball game?”
Honestly, there is great truth and logic in many of these statements. BUT are these statements helpful? I would argue that no, they are not. These statements shift our attention away from the true issue. This is what is called a “red herring.” Whether intentional or not (and I truly believe/hope that most of the time it’s unintentional in this setting) a red herring is something that is misleading or distracting from the true issue at hand. Yes, absolutely, most cops are good and noble and I’m incredibly thankful for the work that they do to keep us safe, BUT that’s not the main issue right now. The main issue is that blacks have been systemically oppressed for centuries and it is time to take the next step toward changing that. I agree that Rayshard Brooks made some poor choices by getting drunk, grabbing a taser, and running away from police, BUT this situation is a symptom of a much bigger problem with the way a police system is designed to interact with those who are struggling. I agree (along with many of the black community) that violent and destructive rioting undercuts great strides that have been taken and is simply wrong, BUT I can also see that many have felt unheard for so long that they feel they have no other way left to fight a system that has persecuted them.
When we use the word “BUT” in the context of this conversation, can we dare to use it the way Jesus would? When I was in college one of my most memorable assignments was to go through the gospels and record the way Jesus interacted with people. This paper I wrote was life-changing, because it was overwhelmingly clear that true and genuine compassion is what radiated from Jesus in his interactions with people. He did not say, “I’m sorry that you are crippled, BUT because it’s against the rules to do work on the Sabbath, I can’t help you.” Instead he flipped it and said, “Yes, it’s the Sabbath and it’s against the rules to do work today, BUT my love is much stronger than the rules.” He had a way of getting at the heart, and keeping the main issue at the forefront. I believe that if Jesus were standing here today, His heart would be one of compassion for each person He interacts with on every side. I believe He would say, “I see your pain, BUT I am with you.” “I see the oppression you have lived under, BUT I will walk this road with you.”
Could we shift the way we use the word “but”? Could we choose to end such statements in a positive way? Could we simply see the issue for what it is, instead of distracting with other issues that may not be directly connected? Can we lay down our rights, our arguments, our sense of righteousness, and instead use logic that flows in favor of the downtrodden and oppressed? Can we choose to not be distracted by side issues, in the same way that Jesus did not get hung up on our sin but instead willingly laid down His life so that we could live?
Our brothers and sisters are crying out in pain. Pain that they did not deserve but instead inherited, just as we inherited some of the guilt for the way this system operates. Let’s not say, “I see your pain, BUT maybe it’s not as painful as you think,” or, “I know this is wrong, BUT isn’t this other issue wrong too?” Instead, let’s say, “I see your pain, BUT I will walk this road with you. I won’t minimize your pain. I will do all I can to change this broken system.”
I readily acknowledge that I find myself making the same mistake many times in my interactions with others. I make judgments based on logic that stems solely from my own perspective. But today I have been reminded that our God has the highest sense of justice and righteousness. He is the creator of our moral code, and the one who has the highest right to call us to accountability for our sins and double standards. BUT He also has the highest sense of love and compassion, and that love and compassion are what prompted Jesus to die for every single one of us. May I show the same love and compassion that He shows, and lay down my right to be right, so that others may live. I am not saying that we excuse sin, injustice, or the other issues of the world, but that we look at each of these things from a perspective of grace, just as Jesus does.
This morning, one of our ministers spoke about one of my favorite stories – Shadrach, Meshach, & Abednego. He even pronounced Abednego correctly (or at least what I would consider to be correctly), and that made my day. 😊 If you haven’t had a chance to read it (or watch the VeggieTales version 😊), I highly recommend you take a look at Daniel 3 in the Bible.
One of the main points that Kris made in his sermon was this: the furnace may be intended to destroy, but instead God uses it as a forge for our faith.
Our son, Jonathan, recently tried to create a forge in our backyard. He had an old fork that he really wanted to turn into a dagger. So he built a fire in our backyard firepit, feeding it with sticks and logs, and occasionally asking me to put some lighter fluid on it because it kept going out. Eventually, he got a pretty good fire going, but no matter what he tried, he could not get his fork to change much in shape. After a while, he gave up, realizing that our little backyard firepit wasn’t going to get hot enough to melt metal to the point where it could be reshaped.
And although it’s somewhat discouraging to realize this – often our faith will not grow until the fire gets overwhelmingly hot. When life is at its hardest is when we most realize our need for God and His power.
After church was over this morning, we talked about times when a furnace has become a forge for our faith. The boys were rather distracted and ready to move on with the day, as one headed to the bathroom, one was rolling around on the floor with the dog, and the other already had the remote in hand, ready to turn on a YouTube video. So our discussion didn’t get very far.
But Josh and I both shared about some pretty hard times in our lives. And the more I reflect, the more I can list time and time again when things felt really hopeless and scary – yet God showed up in a miraculous way. Sometimes He removed the obstacle or challenge right away. Sometimes He waited awhile, giving our faith a chance to grow. And sometimes, He simply stood in the fire with us, in the midst of the pain and the fear.
When I think of the season of depression I went through, the thing that most comes to mind is the God who was standing in the fire with me. At times I felt so hopeless and afraid and lost, but at those times He was so close. I had an intimacy with Him that I had never known before. He sustained me and filled me with strength that I never could have obtained without Him.
The fire of my depression became the forge for my faith. The months of anguish, heartache, hopelessness, and overwhelming sadness were some of the hardest of my life. And yet without the intense fire of that season, my faith would not have grown to the point where I have this deeper intimacy with Him.
I pray the same for you. That whatever furnace you are in right now becomes a forge for your faith to grow stronger and to be shaped into something you never even knew it could become. May you know an intimacy and closeness with your Father that you’ve never experienced before as He stands in the fire with you.
Fittingly, our worship team closed the service with this song. It’s been an anthem for me as I reflect on the fires I’ve been through in my life. I hope it speaks to you too.
NOTE: This is NOT our worship team, it’s Hillsong United, which means the video is eight minutes long and they sing a whole lot of extra parts. But you get the general idea. 😊
Last week, I was a mess for a few days. I’ve always imagined that in a crisis I would be one who would step up and handle everything with strength and wisdom. Instead, as every day brought worse news and more restrictions, I melted into a mess – short-tempered, anxious, hopeless, tense, easily wounded. At night it was the worst – I felt so hopeless as I cried myself to sleep. I wasn’t sure I could handle this new normal, and I didn’t want to try.
This is NOT the person I want to be.
I want to be strong, bold, helpful, willing to serve, creative, loving, selfless, adaptive – but my anxiety was crippling me and I couldn’t see a way through.
The root of the problem was this: I couldn’t hear God’s voice in the midst of all the other voices I was hearing. I would try to read my Bible, but the other words I’d been reading all day drowned out the peace I was seeking. I would try to pray, but I’d be interrupted by yet another message, another word of advice, another funny-not-funny meme that would come through on my phone.
The thing that muted God’s voice the most though was this: my fear that I was doing it wrong. All day long I was reading articles and recommendations about social distancing, self-quarantine, and how to stop the spread of this virus. Each voice I listened to said something different, and I wanted desperately to know if I was doing it right. At first, I went to the extreme and basically quarantined my family. But then I was afraid that we were making it harder than it had to be and that I was hurting our mental health by not allowing my kids playtime with friends. But then I felt guilt that we had possibly exposed ourselves and others to the virus, so we pulled back again. And then I shared these insecurities with others, and received even more well-intentioned lectures and articles about how we were doing it all wrong. The voices were loud and they were overwhelming, and I couldn’t hear the most important Voice of all.
So, I turned off the voices. For one day, I turned off my phone and allowed myself to experience the freedom of listening to only one Voice. And that simple act helped me to find the peace that had been so elusive. I could hear God for the first time in days. I spent time in Scripture, soaking up the words of wisdom and strength that He spoke to me. I prayed without interruption. I experienced beautiful moments in worship. I began to see the ways He was working in this crisis – our family was growing in ways we never would have otherwise, and He had clearly prepared our kids for this moment in ways I could only see if I looked closely. I found the freedom to stop worrying so much about whether or not I’m doing this right – this is all new and there’s no way I’m going to do it perfectly. I found grace for myself and grace for others; we are all making this up as we go, and none of us will do it perfectly.
As my phone went back on that night, I had renewed peace and an ability to hear God’s voice above the others. It has still been hard, and I’m still second-guessing myself a lot. I’m still trying to figure out when to read the news and laugh at the memes, and when to just set my phone down for a few hours. I still have fears about what the coming months will look like. I’m definitely not that amazing warrior princess who I had imagined myself to be in a crisis.
But I’m at peace, and I know what Voice to listen to. I pray that you can find that peace too.
“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.” – Isaiah 42:16
How’s the apocalypse treating everyone else? So far, we’ve blown through almost all the cereal stocked in our basement and we’re out of milk; because despite the fact that I’ve provided three meals a day for my children, they still feel the need to eat bowls of cereal at random times throughout the day. The peanut butter stash is holding steady, but that’s mostly because I already make a batch of puppy chow almost every day. So, nothing new in that realm. 😊
However, beyond our basic needs, I’m struggling. I’m a very introverted person, so you’d think this idea of social isolation would be heaven for me, but I’m learning that it’s definitely NOT. Part of that is because I’m not being socially isolated by myself…I have four other people with me…and they’re all male. Which means they’re loud, they’re stinky, they’re competitive, and they mock me when I watch Frozen 2 (except Josh – he was nice and watched it with me). I’m also responsible for the education of three of these males, which does not come natural to me at all.
The real issue though, is that over the course of the past year, I’ve realized how very important my friends are to me and my mental health. In the past year I’ve embraced those friendships and have needed them on a daily basis. And now I face the prospect of several weeks of no in-person, face-to-face time with any of them. And that’s hard. I know there are many other options in our age of technology, and I’m thankful for those options and will use them. But losing out on the chance to connect with others physically on a day-to-day basis is hard – especially when we all need a hug from a friend now more than ever.
Last night as I was struggling through this, I read a scripture that has long held comfort for me. I thought I’d share it here, because I’m guessing I’m not the only one struggling in this time.
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?Look on me and answer, O Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;my enemy will say, ‘I have overcome him,’ and my foes will rejoice when I fall.But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation.I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me.”
- Psalm 13
The first part of this psalm hits home so intensely. Life is so hard. Sometimes I have so many questions for God. The pain is so intense, and the questions are so big. I feel lost and hurt and broken. I feel as if the things that plague me will conquer me at any moment.
But the last two verses are what hold me steady. Despite all the pain and the hardship and the struggle, I choose to trust His unfailing love. He has proven Himself to me over and over again.
I have quite a few journals I have filled out over the years, but the one that I would rescue in a fire is a specific one with a leather green cover. I bought it a few years ago for one specific purpose – to remember the great things my God has done. Too quickly and easily I forget the things He has done for me. When the storms of life come, it’s as if I have amnesia and I can’t recall any of the miracles I have witnessed or the ways I’ve seen Him come through. So, when those good things do happen, I write them in this journal as a way to hold me steady and remember His faithfulness.
Therefore, last night when trouble hit and I struggled, I thought through the ways God has provided for me before – gifts given in the midst of financial hardships, barriers broken down in the souls of our children, prayers answered when we weren’t even aware they had been spoken, and friends needed at just the right moment in life. These stories remind me and reassure me that God is still present, here in the struggle. He’s right here with me. He’s provided before and He’ll provide again. He’s enough, and He loves me with an unfailing love.
So even though the road is rough right now, “…I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me.”
P.S. I know I have many friends and family who read this and love me very much. I know your desire anytime you read about a struggle of mine is to help me. Please know that I appreciate that, but I really am not asking anyone to fix this situation or offer suggestions – I’m just sharing my feelings. As my husband has learned, often the best thing you can do is feel it, not fix it. 😊 So please stay home and join us in practicing social distancing so we can protect those who need our protection the most…and so we can all get back to normal life as soon as possible.
Note: I actually wrote this blog entry a couple weeks ago, before the world changed in many ways, but never had a chance to post it until now. I’d probably change a few things if I were writing it now, but I think the main ideas behind it are still timely – a reminder to rest and trust.
Remember the manna God gave the Israelites when they were in the desert? Let me give a little background for those of you who didn’t get to watch Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments every Easter as a kid. In the book of Exodus, the Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt through a series of miraculous events. It was pretty intense (so were the special effects in the movie). 😊 The next part of the plan was for God to lead them to the Promised Land and they would settle there. They eventually made it, but some big mistakes and a lack of trust in God extended their journey. So they wandered around in the desert for quite a long time – 40 years to be exact – as God taught them to trust Him in very tangible ways.
During that time in the desert, the Israelites obviously needed food to eat. Therefore, God sent them manna every morning and quail every evening. As someone who is slightly terrified of large groups of birds, the quail thing kind of freaks me out. However, the manna was really cool – it was a small, flaky type of bread/grain they had never even heard of before. I like to imagine it was kind of like puff pastry, though I’ll admit that’s probably not accurate. The most unique thing about this bread is that it came with a promise – it would show up every morning, and there would be enough for every single person among them. Each Israelite was tasked with gathering enough manna for themselves each day. God told them not to save any for the following day – He promised He would provide it, and He did. Of course, there were those who tested that promise, and they had some maggoty bread (and an annoyed Moses) the next day. The exception to this was on the Sabbath. God told the Israelites that they were to gather twice as much on the sixth day (Friday to those of us who like to give names to our days of the week), and that particular manna would not get moldy or maggoty. You see, God had commanded the Israelites to honor the Sabbath (the seventh day – or Saturday) as a day of rest. Therefore, He didn’t want them out on the Sabbath gathering food – instead He gave it to them early so they could use that day of rest for what it was designed for.
I share this story because it illustrates the idea that I mentioned in my last blog post: REST = TRUST. And for the Israelites, this trust was not required just once a week – it was required every day. Each day they could have gone out and gathered enough food to last them several days. But they quickly learned that the extra work would be in vain – it would all be worthless the next day. They had to go to sleep each night with complete trust that God would provide what they needed the next day. And on Friday night they had to go to sleep knowing manna would not appear the next day, and trusting that what they had gathered that day would get them through until Sunday.
And that’s exactly what happened. Every single day, for 40 years, God provided the Israelites with what they needed. He spent 40 years proving to them over and over again that He had taken them on this journey, and that He would provide for them every step of the way if they would simply rest and trust in Him.
This is where I am now. I have never truly been without any physical thing I’ve needed. I’ve never known hunger or thirst or a lack of basic needs. In fact, I think our family could survive an apocalypse for quite a while just on the excessive amount of peanut butter and cereal that is stocked in our pantry. And yet, I still struggle to rest in God’s provision for me. In this season, however, He is completely reshaping me into a creature who trusts Him implicitly.
During the past couple of years, I’ve learned more about rest than anything else. In our culture, Sundays are often considered to be “The Sabbath,” so when I was a kid Sundays meant going to church and making sure that work and sports activities didn’t take the place of Sunday morning worship. As an adult, it meant making sure we took one day a week to rest our bodies and minds and enjoy time as a family. And although all those things are good and important, I’ve learned that the Sabbath means so much more than that.
I’ve learned that honoring the Sabbath is an everyday act of trust.
An Everyday Sabbath means taking time every day to rest in the simple fact that God has provided for me. It is continual moments throughout the day of resting in God’s provision. And not just His provision of my material needs, but the provision of a Savior. I no longer have to work for my salvation – Christ already did that work on the Cross. I don’t have to strive to be good enough – HE is good enough. I don’t have to be strong and stable – HE is strong and stable. Jesus is the PROVIDER of ultimate rest – because He has done the work I could never do myself. I have nothing to earn, nothing to prove. I can rest in the work He has already done in my life.
So when I feel overwhelmed and burdened by the tasks and the worries of the world – that is a moment for an Everyday Sabbath. When I feel frantic and stressed, I can trust that He is bigger than the task at hand. When I feel hopeless, exhausted, broken, guilty – and the feelings of self-hatred and failure overwhelm me – I can TRUST that God has already paid the price for my sin and my failures, and that I can simply rest in His grace. There is no more striving – He has already paid every price required for my peace.
And just like God used something very practical and simple to teach the Israelites how to rest and trust Him, He has used very practical ways to teach me the same thing.
As the summer of 2018 headed into fall, it became increasingly clear that not only was my depression getting worse, anxiety had also joined forces with it to make an especially fun cocktail of mental illness. Work had clearly become a strong trigger of this anxiety, simply because I was trying to do far more than I should have in my limited work hours. I was working at a frantic, very stressful pace, and it could no longer be maintained. I requested and was granted a leave-of-absence and a few months of reduced hours, which I was incredibly thankful for. However, it quickly became obvious to me that I simply needed to resign. It was no longer a career that I could do part-time – my work habits were not healthy and the position was too large in scope for me to handle. I thought I would get another, more simple job fairly quickly – after all, I hear that money is important when you need to pay your bills.
Instead, God called me to a season of rest. Through prayer and Him providing in other ways that we didn’t anticipate, He made it clear that it was all right for me to take some time to heal and relearn healthy work habits – and healthy rest habits. Yes, I was still raising my kids and volunteering in small ways, but I spent a large part of my time just recovering from the abuse I’d put my mind and body through for years.
I took A LOT of naps, and went on a lot of walks with friends. I baked. I cleaned. I napped again. I met with friends and mentors. I read Scripture and listened to worship music. And napped some more. Ate some puppy chow and some cheesecake. We bought a pop-up camper and went to Yellowstone. I read a lot of fiction books and very few self-help books. I ate breakfast and lunch at normal times. I learned about listening prayer. I took my kids to the pool. I worked in my garden. I was available to help my friend with her baby. I rarely rushed. I yelled a lot less. I was a lot more fun.
Oh, I still had rough days and weeks. At Thanksgiving, I pretty much hid out most of the time because my anxiety was so strong when I was around people – even the people I loved the most in the world. At Christmas we skipped a family gathering that I would have never missed before. When summer came and my kids didn’t have school, it was overwhelming to have to share my space and time with them all day. I still had down moments, days, and weeks. But I had stopped striving, and was learning how to rest in the fact that Jesus had already provided for me.
In those ten months where I did not work an official job, I learned the art of the Everyday Sabbath. I learned that when I’m resting, I am trusting. When working on tasks, my previous habit had always been work before play. I never stopped a task part-way through to even do something simple like eat lunch. I always viewed rest as the reward for my work – not a gift God had given me freely. But in an Everyday Sabbath moment, I learned to slow my frantic “get-it-done” mindset, remind myself that Jesus never rushed, and remember that a task doesn’t have to be completed for me to take a few moments to rest and enjoy the gift of life given to me. I would trust that a task could be done without me, or could be set down and picked up again without the world falling apart. My life began to revolve a lot more around the people I loved than the to-do list and the calendar.
When I began working a new job last September (one with a lot less stress), I was very deliberate about how I structured my day. I called it my Mr. Rogers schedule. You know how he always did the same things in the same pattern every day? That’s what I have to do right now to maintain the lessons I’ve learned – or I know I will quickly slip back into my old habits. So now I work a few hours in the morning, come home and eat lunch, not allowing myself to do any kind of work at home – just rest. Then I go back to work for a few more hours. I’ve found that when I’ve skipped that hour at home for some reason or another, my stress level shoots up to dangerous levels again, and I feel anxiety start to overwhelm me again.
An Everyday Sabbath moment is any moment when you stop your frantic pace and remind yourself that Jesus is enough. It’s any time you slow down enough to enjoy a worship song or watch the clouds. The Sabbath is about rest and trust – it is a gift freely given, not a reward that is earned. It’s about surrendering your plans and your tasks to Him – acknowledging that He has already paid any price required for what you need. An Everyday Sabbath is choosing Him over something else. It is rest in its simplest, most peaceful form.
One of my favorite scriptures from this time is Psalm 131:
“My heart is not proud, O Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have stilled and quieted my soul;
like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore.”
A weaned child is no longer simply seeking sustenance and basic needs from his mother. The mother has proven that she will provide what he needs – over and over again. Therefore, all he desires now is to rest quietly, enjoying the peace of being with the one who gave him life. He is not proud or expectant – just simply resting and trusting that she will protect and provide for him in every way.
In the same way, may we rest in our Savior – not frantically striving to fulfill our needs or worrying about what comes next. Instead, may we rest in the promises that He has already fulfilled and the faithfulness He has already shown. May we enjoy the peace that He gives us when we truly rest and trust in Him.
Note: I definitely want to credit Dr. Greg Delort with helping me understand this idea of the Everyday Sabbath. Through a conversation with him and one of his sermons, he helped me to see how skewed my idea of rest truly was, and how the Sabbath is meant to be celebrated every day.
About a month ago, our church announced that they were starting a new sermon series about slowing down the pace of life. I leaned over to Josh and whispered, “And I’m preaching every sermon.” 😊
But seriously. I could. (If I liked public speaking.)
One of the most life-changing realizations I’ve had over the past couple of years is how to rest, and how incredibly awful I’ve been at it my entire life. At first when my depression started, I was certain it was simply physical and hormonal. I even went to my counselor with the idea in mind that I’d just check that off the list – there was nothing going on beneath the surface that needed worked on. My soul was just fine.
Well, obviously not, as it turns out. First of all, out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks…and the mind reflects. Clearly, I had some work to do there since I often had to apologize for my words and my temper, and words of self-hatred were constantly rolling around in my head. Obviously something was going on underneath the surface.
Beyond that though, God kept calling a specific verse to mind:
“In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” – Isaiah 30:15
This verse resonated with me, and it became clear that this was more than just an inspirational verse that was designed to bring me comfort. Instead, it was something God was calling me to. Understanding this verse and applying it to my life became an act of obedience, and eventually, it completely changed the way I functioned on a day-to-day basis.
Let me give you a little background here. I grew up as the grandchild of farmers on both sides of the family. Although my parents didn’t pursue farming as a profession, we did keep a few cattle and the occasional pig or horse (unfortunately, I never got very good at riding either one of them). We had a big vegetable garden. I mowed the lawn. I had a bucket calf one year for 4-H (and while trying to train it he dragged me around for quite a while before I realized that letting go of the rope would solve most of my problems). I drove the hay truck once or twice at Grandad’s farm. I was definitely not a farm girl, but I did learn some important lessons in the value of hard work from the example of my parents and grandparents, as well as the responsibilities they gave me. And those lessons have definitely served me well. I became a hard worker in every area of life: I had good grades, I turned in my assignments on time, I did my chores, and I served at my church.
However, I’m a bit of a perfectionist, and I tend to carry things a little further than needed (Enneagram 1, for those who haven’t guessed that yet). When I failed in any of those areas, I would wallow in self-hatred for a while, then evaluate what went wrong and work hard to correct the character flaw/lack of information/selfish motivation/sinful decision/simple mistake so the error would not happen again. Not because I wanted to be perfect – but because I was compelled by some sinful need or desire to be self-sufficient and…ok…maybe I did want to be perfect. 😊
Well, obviously this is not healthy. And despite my parents’ best efforts to teach me that I didn’t need to be perfect, it was so deeply ingrained in my character that it was going to take some major shifting to fix. Many years ago, I actually had some counseling that helped me dig into some of this. A lot of the heart issues and faulty thinking that went along with this were addressed, and we made some great progress. However, there were still some driving forces that were at work, and it was time to peel the next layer off as the ramifications of an unhealthy pace of life came to a head.
Enter the year 2018, when I was raising three school-age kids and working part-time in a family ministry position at our church. I had been working in this role for several years, and it had been a great fit for me. I worked more hours during the school year and less during the summer – it was ideal. I loved what I was doing – working alongside the children’s and youth ministry teams to help provide opportunities for families to grow together. It meshed all my worlds and interests, and I loved it. However, it was a big job. And I didn’t let it stay small. I kept adding to the things we needed to do. And I didn’t want to place the burden of responsibility on anyone else, so I tried to take on as many of the tasks for myself as I could. I had this picture of an ideal family ministry in mind, and I had a hard time settling for anything less.
The only problem was there was a limit to the number of hours a week I could work. Over the years we added more hours to my schedule, but at some point, I hit the limit of the hours per week I wanted to work. I still had responsibilities at home and in my volunteer positions. As any mom knows, taking care of the MASSIVE to-do list every day is a huge undertaking in itself. So instead of working more hours, I just worked faster. I am the queen of efficiency, and it’s already been established that I’m a perfectionistic hard worker, so I continued to pile more responsibilities on myself and managed to get them done in (almost) the same amount of time. I ate lunch at my desk, worked until the last possible second, and every moment was hectic and frantic. I always wore a scrunched up “work face” that people liked to make fun of because I was so focused on all the things I needed to get done. (In my new job, one of my favorite things is that my desk faces a wall, so no one walks by and takes a picture of my intense facial expression to share in an all-staff email. 😊) Home wasn’t much better. I was always trying to get the to-do list done, and I snapped at my kids far more often than I would like to admit. I was in a constant state of stress.
Ironically, Josh and I had long been major proponents of taking a Sabbath every week. Mondays were our day off, and we’d use that time to go to lunch and rest for a few hours while the kids were at school. We’d also made a habit at one point of trying to not work in the evenings after the kids went to bed, so several evenings a week we had an hour or so to just rest and watch TV. So it wasn’t as if I wasn’t getting some rest in. But every other second of my life was frantic. I was always rushing from one thing to another, both at work and at home. And honestly, it had been that way since I had started college, and continued to get worse as more and more layers were added to my life.
I’m guessing I’m not the only one with a story like this. I’m sure my reasons are unique to me in some ways, but our culture as a whole works at a frantic pace. Sports and kids’ activities alone can overwhelm a family very quickly. Work expectations and pressure are incredibly real. Simply sorting through the take-home papers and emails from school is a major task. Helping kids with homework, planning meals, purchasing groceries, scheduling doctor’s appointments, making sure there are clean undies and a ready supply of toilet paper – all of this adds to the stress of everyday life.
My problem is that I lived with this heightened sense of stress so long that my body finally crashed. I said earlier that I thought my depression was primarily hormonal – and I suppose that was true in some ways. Because as I found out later, my constant, hyper-stressed mindset messed up some of my major hormones – cortisol being one of them – and my body could no longer manage stress the way it was supposed to. Cortisol is your body’s main stress hormone, and it helps to control your mood, among many other things. Some later medical tests revealed my cortisol levels to be pretty much tanked. There were quite a few other things going on with me medically, and I’ll save that for another day. But suffice it to say that our bodies are not designed to live with a constant, frantic, elevated level of stress. Even a break for a once-a-week Sabbath isn’t going to make up for the abuse it is sustaining during the remainder of the week. And a result of this is that I sank into a pretty severe depression.
As I said before, a verse God called me to obey in this time was this:
“In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” – Isaiah 30:15
One thing I’ve come to learn on this journey is that REST = TRUST. In this passage, Isaiah is talking to the nation of Israel. They were at a point in their history where they were facing annihilation by the nation of Assyria. In their fear, they frantically turned for help from Egypt, forming an alliance. They sealed this alliance with a large amount of money paid to Egypt. In the end, however, their money was wasted, because God is the one who came in and saved the day by destroying the Assyrian army.
Had the Israelites simply trusted God, they could have rested in an assurance of His protection. Had they not run around frantically looking for solutions to the problems facing them, they could have truly witnessed and understood the depth of God coming through for them in their trials. Had they repented of their self-sufficiency, they could have simply stood and watched the Lord fight for them.
In the same way, if I truly trust God, it means I do not lead a frantic lifestyle, running from one responsibility to the next. It means I do not reject moments of quiet rest, shoving them aside because of a false belief that if I don’t keep juggling ALL THE THINGS, then my whole world might collapse. If I truly trust God, I learn to restructure the way I’ve always functioned and submit that to Him.
In my next blog post I’ll get deeper into this idea of rest and (practically speaking) what that meant for my healing. In the meantime, will you take some time to reflect on this verse with me? What does rest look like for you, and what is God calling you to? Is there a sense of quietness and trust in your life? In what ways have you rejected any of these gifts He’s freely given you? In what ways is He calling you to a deeper relationship with Him?
Please let me know if there’s a way I can be praying for you. Thanks for reading – it means a lot to me.
Also, here’s the aforementioned picture that was circulated in a staff email at my old job – for your viewing pleasure. 😊
My “work face” – with laser eyes added for effect. 🙂
Feeble Hands 