The Use and Misuse of Buts (One T, Not Two T’s)

Fair warning: When reading this post you’re going to have to stifle the middle 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, BUT most 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.

I Will Survive

I am a chronic overpacker. When we go anywhere, for any length of time, I bring far more than is needed. Sometimes I think I unpack more clean clothes at the end of a trip than dirty ones. 😊 An example of this is anytime we go hiking – even for a couple miles. I always bring a backpack with a first aid kit, a few snacks, and the kitchen sink. I simply like being prepared for the unknown.

This adorably annoying character trait came in handy a couple of years ago when Josh and I were hiking a trail in Colorado. We’d already attempted the trail earlier in the week with the boys, but it was pretty icy and they were pansies, so we didn’t get very far. 😊 So Josh and I went back, just the two of us, armed with rough walking sticks we’d found on the side of the trail, hiking boots, and my backpack full of unnecessary weight. We got a later start than planned, and it was slow-going because it was still icy. But it was beautiful, we had the trail to ourselves, and the challenge of making it to the summit was irresistible. We made it to the top and spent some time taking pictures and enjoying it. Then we realized that wasn’t really the summit and the trail went a little further, so we kept going until we made it. We took some more pictures, but then realized it was starting to get dark, so we reluctantly headed down. Unfortunately, we failed to realize that the slightly mushy ice we had traversed on the way up was quickly freezing over again until it was incredibly slick – and it’s much harder to walk down an icy trail than up an icy trail. We had also neglected to consider just how fast the sun sets in the mountains, and how dark it can get on a cloudy night.

However, I am an overpacker. And nestled in one of the pockets of my backpack was a tiny flashlight that had been there for years – just waiting for its moment of glory. No, we didn’t need the first aid kid, the extra snacks, the biodegradable toilet paper (actually I may have used that, I don’t remember 😊), the spare socks, chapstick, cold medicine, pocket knife, ace bandage, extra water bottles, or ponchos. But that flashlight became the difference between sliding off the side of the mountain, and making it home safely with a fun memory. We still biffed it multiple times and caused our family to worry a little about where we were, but we made it.

In the same way, when my battle with depression began I knew I had to find a way out. And I had to take stock of my situation and my resources. What did I have that could help me get through this? Who was with me who could carry me if I fell? What long-neglected resource would become something that could get me to safety? What risks was I going to have to take? Who would be hurt the most if I didn’t make it? This assessment was something I had to do often – sometimes depression is a day-by-day, hour-by-hour, or even minute-by-minute decision to survive and take the next step forward.

The first time I realized I was really, truly depressed was in November of 2017. For months I’d struggled with very strong irritability, self-hatred, and harsh criticism toward myself and others. This usually spiked in connection with my monthly cycle, so it seemed like it was all purely hormonal – though clearly there were some heart issues underneath it all. It just kept getting worse and worse, and finally reached the tipping point that November. I’d had a particularly awful week and just felt so frustrated and angry at Josh. I vented about it in my journal, not pulling any punches. Then after a lot of prayer and scripture reading, I ended that journal passage with a decision to “fully and completely love and respect Josh” despite everything I had written above. I had fought against the overwhelming emotions I was having and God helped me see that I needed to choose Josh despite what I was feeling. I knew that was a victory.

The next day we went to life group (our small group at church) and I brought my journal with me. In my mind, the crisis of emotion had already passed. My mind was dwelling on the last things I had written, not the former words of contempt and anger. But Josh was sitting next to me and he saw the hateful words I had written about him that I had so carelessly displayed, and they broke his heart. That night he was cold toward me and he finally told me what he had seen. He was so deeply hurt. He didn’t know that Jesus and I had worked it out – that I had made the decision to love him and choose to see the good in him despite what my critical brain wanted me to believe. I think that is the deepest I have ever hurt him. Later we both talked about the fact that it’s normal to vent, especially in a journal, and it wasn’t necessarily awful that I had done so. But in that moment, I knew that I had done serious damage to his heart. And the sorrow I felt for hurting him was overwhelming. And for the first time ever in my life I felt like the solution was to walk downstairs, find a knife, and cut myself. I do not know why my brain went that direction, but it did. Over the coming days, despite the healing that God did between Josh and myself, I had suicidal thoughts several times. I knew I wouldn’t act on any of them, but it was awful to have those thoughts in my mind.

That was the turning point. The crisis had come and it was time to find a way forward to health. I finally realized I was at a place I had never been before. I knew it was no longer acceptable for me to just keep trying to survive month after month. I needed help to get better. Something was clearly wrong and it wasn’t something I could handle – or at least shouldn’t handle – on my own anymore.

So I prayed. A lot. I started thinking through my options. I had lots of talks with Josh and a couple of good friends about what the next steps should be. I gauged what my resources were. I prayed some more. And because of those conversations and those prayers and those thought processes, I was able to make a plan to move forward. Honestly, this was a continual process over the coming years. There were A LOT of roadblocks on my road to healing. I had to reassess and redirect multiple times; that in itself was depressing. It’s debilitating to have a plan that doesn’t work the way you’d hoped it would. Starting over is one of the hardest things to do, especially when you’ve already poured so much energy into healing. Even now, it’s so discouraging when I have a new symptom or struggle and wonder where in the world it has come from. I feel like total stability is just out of reach — maybe it will always be that way. But I’ve had a lot of practice now with picking myself up and trying again. And though it’s discouraging and I often just want to give up, it’s not impossible and I’m not alone.

Which brings me to this idea of evaluating where you are, where you’re going, and what resources you have. I had to look around me, see who was with me, and what I needed to find in order to get healthy. I went to see a counselor I had seen previously to help me figure out what was going on and what some wise next steps would be. I talked to a friend from church who I’d heard had success treating some of her issues through herbs and oils. I reached out to my counseling professor from college who helped me gain insight into the deeper issues that were going on in my soul that needed to be worked out. I opened up to my prayer group and life group instead of pretending everything was fine. I had long walks with a best friend who listened and asked the right questions – then challenged me to take some big steps. When the herbs and oils didn’t help as much as I’d hoped, I talked to my doctor, then another doctor, and then another – each who helped me take the next step toward physical and mental health. I opened up to several other friends who propped me up, prayed for me, and encouraged me along the way – sometimes once, sometimes consistently – but each interaction was a resource and a blessing to me. I told my extended family about my struggles despite the fact that we don’t normally talk about our feelings that openly. I didn’t hide this from my kids but asked them to pray for me, disclosing to them age-appropriate information about what I was going through. I asked a friend if she would be a mentor to me and our weekly conversations were life-giving. My husband was a rock too – but as you can see, I didn’t expect him to be the only one who held me up. When I looked closely at the resources I had, it was obvious I wasn’t alone. Naturally, there were a few resources I had been freely given, but I intentionally pursued a village and asked them to join me in this fight.

Sidenote: To all of you grammar people who are noticing that almost every sentence in that paragraph started with “I” – don’t worry, I know. You’re just going to have to overlook that. I just like talking about myself. 😊

But above all this, the resource I had with me constantly was none other than Jesus. When I pour back through my journals from the past two years, I can see over and over again how He walked so gently with me. I felt treasured, protected, challenged, and strengthened by Him. The intimacy I gained with Him was incredible because I was so desperate in every way. No, I didn’t do it perfectly and there were still times I felt alone. But I never truly was. He held me up, reasoned with me, and wept with me. This verse very much applies to those years:

“Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death. When I said, ‘My foot is slipping!’ Your love, Oh Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought joy to my soul.” – Psalm 94:17-19 (NIV)

You probably don’t have the exact resources I had. Your story is different than mine. That being said, my story would be completely different if I hadn’t taken some risks. All of those resources I mentioned were there from the start, but I could have easily ignored them. Consulting with my counselor and doctors was something I could have put off forever. It would have been “easier” to pretend like everything was fine in my life group instead of opening up. Instead of being honest with God and desperately clinging to Him, I could have hated Him for allowing me to suffer in this way (though there were many days that I did question Him—yet He still held me). I could have placed a heavy burden on my husband and my best friend and expected them to be the only ones I trusted with this. I could have chosen not to pursue a mentor, or listen to advice, or ask my family to pray for me. When someone let me down or responded with insensitive advice, I could have gotten discouraged and decided not to open up again. But I was literally fighting for my life, so I embraced every resource I had.

Please do the same. As I said in my last post, it took a village of people and the God of the universe to pull me out of a very dark place. But I had to fight too. So please, look around you. Who is with you? Who can you ask to be with you? What is it going to take for you to survive this? What risks will you have to take and who will take them with you? None of it will be easy. In fact, for me it felt impossible a majority of the time. I was so exhausted simply from trying to do the bare minimum that any extra effort to fight toward healing was an enormous battle. And some days I did not win that battle. Even yesterday I cried in bed in the middle of the day, overwhelmed by the tasks that needed to be done, unsure why such simple things seemed so insurmountable. But even though we may lose the battle some days, we have to move forward, asking our village to join us in the fight.

This village that has been built around me is full of some pretty amazing people. I’m so thankful for those who have walked with me and are walking with me. But the most beautiful part is this: I became a part of their village too. A village never exists for just one person – it is mutually beneficial to all who are part of it. As others became resources for me, I tried to become a resource for them. We lift each other up as we become open and real – allowing others to walk with us.

I know how incredibly hard it is to take the next step forward, especially when the path before you looks so long and dark. It may feel impossible to you. It felt impossible to me. But YOU WILL NOT BE ALONE! I promise you that Jesus wants to walk with you, carrying your burdens each step of the way and lighting the path before you. And if you look closely, you may be surprised at the others who are willing to walk with you as well.

Feeble Hands & Shaky Knees

“Strengthen the feeble hands,
   steady the knees that give way,
say to those with fearful hearts,
   'Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
   He will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
   He will come to save you.'"
            -Isaiah 35:3-4

For quite some time, I’ve felt God calling me to this idea – “strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way.” I’ve had quite a bit of experience with my own feeble hands and shaky knees over the past several years as I’ve gone through a long, hard battle with depression. In many ways, I’m (mostly) on the other side of this battle. I’ve experienced a lot of healing and growth, though I definitely still feel very fragile in some ways, and even recently have had some pretty awful days. But because I know I’m not alone in this battle with depression, I want to offer my story to you, if you care to hear it. If not – I won’t be offended. I can be kind of wordy at times. And after all, talking about depression can be a bit…depressing. 😊 (See what I did there?)

I wish I could easily sum up the story of what the past two and a half years have been like for me. However, as I am a person who very easily gets bogged down in details, I don’t think that can happen. I want you to know each heartache, each victory, each epiphany and paradigm shift – but that would require you to simply live those years with me all over again. And although it’s an excruciatingly beautiful journey – it should only be walked once. To go back and resurrect each detail might provide a bit more understanding, but it would mean retracing steps, instead of moving forward along the next part of the path God has placed in front of me. A path that others may need me to walk with them, drawing from all my experience of the terrain I have already covered before them.

So if my path intersects or converges with yours, let me just say there is HOPE. Some of the darkest times of my life have happened in the past two-and-a-half years. I’ve had moments where I’ve cried uncontrollably, screamed at my children, irrationally raged at my husband, and fought off literal waves of sadness that plagued me moment after moment. I’ve been so incredibly tired, hurt, ashamed, angry, and hopeless that I’ve fought desires to injure myself or end my life. I’ve had weeks of an uneasy sense of feeling almost “normal” again, only to be overcome by that awful feeling of knowing that my depression was back in full force, ready to annihilate me yet again me and bring me to my knees. I’ve been on countless medications of varying dosages – spending months to find the one that would actually alleviate some of my symptoms without leaving me with unbearable side effects.

But as I said, there is HOPE. Because my world was so dark, light was ever so much brighter. In some ways it’s hard to make sense of that. There were many times the darkness didn’t become any less dark. It was still awful and painful and overwhelming. But Jesus and my friends walked alongside me, and though the brightness of their light did not diminish my darkness, it made it bearable because I was not alone. As I look back, some of my darkest times were actually the most filled with hope, because I saw God fight for me, teach me, and rescue me in those moments.

Again, I wish I could tell you every detail. It’s a pretty amazing story. Friends who cried with me and offered wise counsel, a husband who held me through the worst of it, family who prayed diligently for me, children who watched me fight hard battles and loved me through it. I have stories of times when God clearly answered prayers that I didn’t even know were being prayed – answered prayers that helped calm my raging mind and simply fall asleep. Medically speaking, I learned a lot about the impact years of stress had on my body, mind, and emotions, and how healing came in unexpected ways. I spent several days in the mountains of Colorado, and the healing God did there in my soul is a precious story in and of itself. A wise counselor and friend taught me how to truly rest, helping me completely restructure the way I think about my work life. I could tell you how some things were lost and sacrificed along the way, including a job I loved. I could also tell you how God provided in amazing and humbling ways in the midst of a year off of work, and has provided again in giving me a job that fits exactly what I need right now. I could tell you of new friendships created and old friendships deepened. Of a life recreated and a spirit renewed.

But I’ve already said enough for today. I’ll get into some of those details and stories down the road. But the reason I am writing this today is because I want you to know what God can do. That you’re not alone. That someone else has walked this road.

Recently a mom in our community – a mom of three boys, just like me – died by suicide. From what I understand, many of those around her were shocked. They hadn’t known she was struggling. Many cannot understand what she was going through that would lead her to such a point because (thankfully) they’ve never experienced that before.

But I can understand it. And maybe you can too. And if you are feeling hopeless, please know you are not alone. I say these words to you that God laid on my heart at a very dark time:

"Be strong, do not fear;
   your God will come,
He will come with vengeance;
   with divine retribution
He will come to save you."
          -Isaiah 35:3-4

If you are struggling, please reach out. And not just to one person – allow God to fight for you through multiple people. Honestly, the struggle is too big for just one friend. It took a village of people and the God of the universe to pull me out of a really dark place. I am willing to be one of the people in your village if you need that, and I’d love to help you learn more about the mighty God who is fighting for you. Through this blog, I plan to share more about what I have learned spiritually, mentally, and physically. I am not a therapist or a counselor, but I do feel that I can share what God has taught me on this journey. Feel free to ask me any questions – for the most part, I’m pretty open about this. Or I’m happy to keep my mouth shut and just listen (as hard as that is for me – as you can see I’m quite wordy even when I’m trying not to be).

I hope the words God speaks through me here bring you hope and healing and the knowledge that you’re not alone. Your hands may be feeble, and your knees may be giving way, but God is coming to save you. In fact, He’s already here, walking with you and weeping with you.