How’s your Hike?

              When I started hiking this morning, I had no intention of battling spider webs, picking spiders out of my hair, or nearly stepping on six box turtles.  I hadn’t planned on staring at my tennis shoes more than at the panoramic scenery, lest I slide down a steep slope or step on the slower traffic.  My purpose for stuffing my Bible, journal, lunch, and pillow into my backpack was to find a place of serene beauty and have intimacy with Jesus.

              It wasn’t wrong for me to knock down webs and pluck the loathsome creatures from my hair.  It had to be done, but that wasn’t the purpose of my journey.  Can you imagine me telling someone about my hike?  “It was amazing.  I knocked down fifteen spider webs, flicked two spiders out of my hair, carefully balanced on loose rocks as I walked down steep slopes, and narrowly avoided squishing six turtles.”  With the possible exception of the turtles, this is not really what people want to hear.  They want to know how God’s presence seemed more real when I was surrounded by the fragrance of pine needles.  They want to know the stillness and rest I found while sleeping on the trail with my pillow.  They want to know the thoughts God shared with me as I spent three hours alone with Him in the woods.  What I did was inconsequential.  They want to know what God did.

              Why, then, do I make this blunder on my daily journey?  I hike through each day with the grand hope of beautiful intimacy and fellowship with Christ, but that is not how I measure my hike at the end of each day.  As I crawl into bed at night, I soothe myself with thoughts like:  “I read three chapters today, wrote a blog post, read to my kids, cleaned the house, and even had some ladies over for tea.”  This is not what people want to know about my daily hike.  They want to know how God changed my heart while listening to my preschooler pray, how God proved Himself faithful (once again) when I had no hope.  They want to know how I have seen God answer my prayers, save the souls of my family and friends, and make me more like Christ.  They don’t want to know what I did.  They want to know what God did.  They want to share my experience of God with me.

              Task-oriented instead of God-oriented.  This is a lie that forges chains of performance-based approval.   This lie says, “In order to BE something, I must DO something.”  So we stay up late and get up early.  We schedule every hour of the day.  We read books on how to live more efficiently. We work until we have nothing left to give.  Meanwhile, God is redeeming souls, healing wounds, setting captives free, giving sight to the blind, and we don’t even see it, because we’re so focused on what we’re doing.

              As long as you keep moving on your hike, you have to keep swatting at the spider webs and watching your own feet.  So drop your backpack, lie down on the trail, and watch what God is doing.  I promise you that the view will be better than your own hiking boots.

Scripture to Study:

Numbers 23:23b    It will now be said of Jacob and of Israel, ‘See what God has done!’

(Replace Jacob and Israel with your own name:  It will now be said of ____________ ‘See what God has done!’) 

Chains Forged by Lies

              I dug my fingers into the carpet and screamed.  My whole body stiffened with the scream until there was no air left in my lungs.  Gasping, I pulled myself forward on my stomach, sucking in more air to scream again.  My four children, ages 1-5, stood aghast as I continued to scream and drag myself in circles on my stomach on the living room floor.  What was I doing?  I knew it made no sense.  I wasn't angry or hurt.  Something in my brain had snapped—rebelled against some mysterious pressure that would never leave me.  How had I gotten to this point?

              About three years before that day I began an unfortunate habit of occasionally collapsing for no apparent reason.  I remained conscious, while my energy flowed out of me as quickly as if someone had pulled the plug in the bathtub.  Hours of bed rest later, I felt fine.  This happened about once a year until my youngest child was a year old.  I had already suffered a year of difficult post-partum depression, wanting to hurt myself for the first time in my life.  By the grace of God I never retrieved the kitchen knife to slash myself as I so often craved to do.

              Around this time, I collapsed again.  We assumed that I would soon recover like all the other times.  Instead, the very next morning, I found that I could not stay on my feet.  I had no energy.  I was dizzy.  One leg dragged behind me as I walked.  I was easily given to hyperventilating under periods of stress and chaos.  I stayed in bed almost constantly for the next two weeks, relying on my husband and friends to take over my duties as wife and mother.

              Visiting doctors became a minor hobby for me during that time.  One doctor was convinced I had epilepsy and put me on a mild anti-seizure medication which ultimately enhanced all of my anxieties, depression, desire for self-harm, and physical symptoms.  I was in bed for two months.  I quit taking this medicine after it left me screaming and crawling in circles on my living room floor.  A year later, another doctor decided that my tests were inconclusive anyway.  No one ever knew what was wrong with me.

              Although I significantly improved after stopping this medication, and again after being anointed by my church, I never fully recovered from any of these symptoms.  They still plagued me.  They kept me from driving when I was stressed or ill.  I practically lived in my bedroom to avoid the children’s noise and needs.  I often took 3-5 hour naps and still slept soundly all night.

              All of this we dealt with, hoping that one day I would be fully healed.  Then one day, I caved into my four-year temptation to hurt myself.  Instead of turning to knives, though, I began pouring hot water on my legs and clawing myself.  At this point, we turned to the Women’s Refuge of Vero Beach, a residential Christian counseling center, for help.

              I stayed at the Refuge for four weeks, during which time I discovered the source of my illness:  I was soul-sick.  My sickness was fed by lies that I had believed about God, about myself, and about relationships.  In a month, I had discovered over thirty lies that had forged chains, chains that kept me from living the abundant life that Jesus had promised me.

              One by one, I began to confront those lies with the scriptural truth, and as I did so, those chains fell and shattered at my feet.  I was overjoyed to be set free from emotional bondage that had held me captive for years, but I was absolutely astounded when I realized that ALL of my physical symptoms were caused by the same problem of lies! 

              Today, by learning to recognize lies and tell myself the truth, I have found freedom and healing from a host of chains:  obsessive compulsive thoughts, depression, self-harm, pressure to perform, perfectionism, and even complete physical healing!  I know that not all physical illnesses are caused by lies, but this time it was.

              At “Break My Chains”, I want to show you, one step at a time, how Jesus used the truth to set me free.  I hope you follow me so you can see what a wonderful Savior my Lord Jesus is, because I know He can break your chains, too.

Scripture to Study:

John 8:31-32  To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.  Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Suggested Book to Read:

Telling Yourself the Truth, by William Backus and Marie Chapian

Addicted to Approval

         Confronting people used to be the greatest fear of my life.  My second greatest fear was sharks, which, of course, means that I would rather be eaten by a shark than have to confront someone. 

What is it about confrontation that would tie my gut in knots, turn my muscles to Jell-o, and give me the sensation that I’m floating outside of my body, watching myself do this unspeakable thing called good communication?  Why is it that I can have a wonderful speech planned, mentally rehearse that speech with boldness, and then crumble into a ball of anxiety as soon as I look into that person’s eyes?

Oddly enough, it is for the same reason that I stare at a blank computer screen, unable to type even one sentence because all I can hear in my mind are other people’s criticisms.  It is for the same reason that I gave up learning to paint, because nothing I painted looked exactly like the picture in the book.  It is for the same reason that I tried to lose weight, even when I was almost underweight, because I wanted others to see me as beautiful.  I had an approval addiction.

An approval addiction says, “If others like me, then I can like me, too.”  Of course, if others didn’t like me, then I had a real problem on my hands.  You don’t like what I wrote?  Let me make your changes.  You don’t think I’m the next Rembrandt?  You’re right, and I never will be, so I’ll give up painting.  You don’t like my body size?  Here, let me slim it down for you.  Just please, please, please like me so I can like me, too.

Approval addiction doesn’t stop with human relationships.  Once I realized what I was doing with family and friends, I was then able to see that I was treating God the same way.  Am I not reading my Bible enough for you, God?  I’ll read it more.  Am I not praying enough for you?  I’ll pray more.  Am I not involved in enough ministries for you?  I’ll do more.  Just please, please, please like me so I can like me, too.

Growing up in the church, I had always heard that God accepts me.  So what?  I thought.  I accept a lot of things I don’t like.  I accept slimy cooked spinach on my plate, painful criticism from family, and the fact that sharks will probably never go extinct.  What if I’m the soggy lump of broccoli that God accepts because it’s what He’s supposed to do?  Please stop telling me that God accepts me.  I don’t have an acceptance addiction, I have an approval addiction.  What I want is for God to LIKE me, to WANT to be with me, to ENJOY my friendship.

This thought nearly squeezed all the air out of my lungs.  Did God approve of me?  A loud “Yes!” crashed through my heart, smashing the chains of my approval addiction.  If God approved of me, what did it matter if anyone else did or not? 

Why, God?  I asked in awe.  Why do you approve of me?  I don’t deserve your approval.  The answer came like a healing balm:  “I approve of you because of who you are, not because of what you’ve done.  Even when you mess up and I am grieved over your sin, I still approve of YOU, because you are and always will be my daughter—forgiven and made righteous.”

I am writing again—as you can see.  I still don’t think I’ll ever be another Rembrandt, but I am painting again.  And, I’ve decided that America no longer gets to decide how flat my stomach gets.  If people don’t like my writing, my painting, or my waist size, it really doesn’t matter at all, because I have found One who meets all the needs of my approval addiction.  And the best part is, I don’t have to DO anything to get that approval from Him.  I’m His daughter, and that’s enough.

Scripture to Study:

Zephaniah 3:17  “The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves.    He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”