Wandering

 I’m not lost. I’m just wandering.

There is something to be said for living life without an anchor. By which I mean, living without anything to hold you down to one place, one job, one style of life, one set of friends.

It’s sometimes frightening to be so unleashed, of course. To find yourself flung into the GREAT UNKNOWN without any idea of where you are going to land. But the hard facts of life mean that no one, not even the most rooted and grounded and anchored person with a pension and a 401K actually knows what is going to happen next. It’s just the illusion of safety to think that what you have now you will still have tomorrow or even in 5 minutes.

Wandering is the ability to throw off those illusions and simply face the uncertainty head on. It’s a little bit like an adrenaline rush, but more than that it is a fantastic exercise in faith…a trust fall of epic proportions.

I suppose I ought to clarify that I’m not truly without any anchor. The hope I have in Christ is a rock-solid foundation that I can anchor into even while I’m wandering (Hebrews 6:19). It’s like true north on a compass. No matter where I wander, I’m not lost, and I never will be. So I don’t have to fear the uncertainty. I can embrace change and wildness and even a worldwide pandemic without losing myself or losing sight of what is important.

I know it isn’t truly feasible for some, and that others wander entirely unintentionally. However, if it is ever possible for you to do so, if ever you come across a chance where you think “if only I had time off” or “someday I’d really like to” and you feel that pull in your chest like your being drawn somewhere even though it doesn’t make sense, I say go. I mean, pray about it first. Don’t just jump off a bridge without looking. But go as often as you can. 

Learn new things. Meet new people. Experience new cultures.

Love God Always, first and last and forever.

Wander.

Begging for Questions

Currently, I am living in a setting where I have known no one for more than a few days. This is an intensely uncomfortable place for me to be, because there is the constant fear of being misunderstood, that my rather dry and sometimes stupid wit will cause offense instead of laughter. The longer I am here the more I am realizing that I have not made it a habit to get to know people outside of my core group of friends.

I am a genius at small talk, but I rarely go any farther than just listening to whatever story they want to tell me. This has been a consistent trend in my life. I am not a person who requires a large group of friend. In fact, I feel the strains of required socialization quite keenly at times.

However, as I do feel I have been called by God to this location to be used as a witness not just for my medical skills, I've attempted to formulate a plan for getting to know people at more than a superficial level. For many, I realize, this may come naturally, and it may be helpful for you to know that some of us struggle, and it isn't because we don't care. If anything I think it is because once I really connect with someone I will never be able to stop caring about them. Love brings pain. They are inextricably connected. You cannot care about someone deeply without feeling what they feel, without being hurt when they are hurt or damaged when they tears themselves away. And this is a pain, or a risk of pain, that I have trained myself to be very good at avoiding.

Onward then to what I mean to do about this unacceptable fear. The question I really want the answer to is this: "What's your story? Who are you?"

This is a phrase that I always mean to use, and never quite do. Possibly because I'm terrified of what people might tell me, that it won't be something that I can respond to in the right way, or that it will irrevocably bond me to them in a way that maybe I don't want to be bound. 

And yet, without knowing someone's story, there is no real opening for relationship, any friendship is based only on what may be seen as common interests, as flimsy as a paper doll.

I am as guilty of not wanting to answer this question as I am of not asking it. The few times that people have really sat down and asked me to tell them about myself, my first defense is deflection and humor and a desperate hope that they will leave me alone inside my shell because it's pretty comfortable in here. Perhaps, another reason I don't ask is precisely because I don't wish to make anyone else feel that discomfort.

There is, however, a certain type of persistent person, who continues to look at me with questioning eyes after my first few attempts at throwing up a decoy. And it isn't until that moment that I actually start thinking about answering the question. I feel this isn't entirely a fair question either. It doesn't give any hint of what the asker is looking for in a response, and while it may simply be an accurate reflection of their interest in you as a person, it is entirely daunting to be expected to sum up your whole life in a coffee break or lunch. In order to give a little direction to the conversation, it might be easier to start with this question instead:

"What do you love?"

This question I think would be easier to answer as it has more defined limits than the expectation that several decades of experience could be condensed in any kind of articulate way. And it would, therefore, be easier for me to ask. Although, it could do with a decent segue. Again, it isn't often asked in my experience, but if you know what a person loves, it gives you a strong idea of who that person is and what is the best way to communicate with them. Some people love writing, or music, or art, or hiking, sailing, their families, holidays, working with disabled children, tutoring, speaking in front of crowds, or lying in the sun. I may be using the word love a bit too lightly here, but it's stronger than just a sense of 'what do you like to do'. These are things that bring solace to the soul. It might be better phrased as 'what do you think is the best thing in life?'

"What makes you angry/breaks your heart?"

This would be even easier for me to answer than the previous question, and once again, easier to ask. I have answered this questions, at least in part, in many of my other writings, and say nothing more about it, except that it is a question anyone can answer with, hopefully, very little set up.

I don't think this connection thing is a problem I face alone. There is a lack of honest dialogue in the world. And the fact is that it does require work, and you do take a risk in any kind of connection with another person. Culture in America has become one that teaches that discomfort is to be avoided at all costs, that pain is bad, and that simply is not true. As I said before pain is attached to love, to caring for anyone else. It is only through discomfort and uncertainty that we can press on to overcome challenges to create connections, to learn new skills, and ultimately fulfill our purpose as ambassadors of God in this world. If I dare not love the people around me, then what makes me think I might be capable of loving God?

"But Much-Afraid, I have already warned you that Love and pain go together, for a time at least. If you would know Love, you must know pain too." 

-- The Shepherd in Hind's Feet on High Places 

by Hannah Hurnard

All the Little Things

On December 19th, I wrote this entry in my journal: "I wish I could have some proof that there was purpose in the waiting, that my life still has importance... I want peace. I want rest. I want to be content in being alone. I have waited and struggled, dear God, and I am tired..."

I'm sharing this because, unfortunately, this is a place I have found myself in periodically over the years. I have come to realize it has nothing to do with my actual circumstances, and everything to do with what I am focusing on.

Here I am, two months later, in such an amazing place that the person who wrote those words could never even imagine what God had stored up for me. I'm heading into a situation that contains so many unknowns that I don't even know what I don't know. And I am perfectly at peace with it. I'm eager even to step forward and jump off the ledge. So I would like to give my future self some advice while I am still clear-headed. Maybe it will speak to you, dear reader, as well.





Dear Future Self,

Every single moment is worth something. Every day is a new layer of growth. This is difficult to understand. Especially for someone like me, who measures so much of my self-worth and value by what I do, the actions and forward motion, the big and shining firework events. But not everything can be fireworks, unless you want to burn out at once. And everything in life, especially the little things, add up to prepare me for the next step, the next mission, but that does not mean there is not a calling in the waiting. It means that sometimes I am called to silence---maybe so I can learn how to listen, or maybe so I can learn not to be shaken by it. Sometimes, I am called to be alone, and that does not mean I am worthless. It doesn't mean I'm not important. All it means is that there is some way I am meant to grow, something I am meant to learn or store up for the next stage.

And, yes, it is painful. And, yes, I know I'm still going to make mistakes. I may even panic at times. But I am not lost. I am only put in this place so I might feel my way toward God, knowing that he isn't very far at all. That feeling, that crawling and searching, is what strengthens my faith if I will let it, building muscle and reason because I know my hope is not in vain.

So next time a waiting period comes around, dear silly self, remember this: Love in the moment. Love who is placed in front of you and beside you to the best of your ability without expectation. Live for eternity. Don't focus on the temporal circumstances unless it is with gratitude. And listen in the waiting. The call of God is for everyone, but only those who are listening can hear it and respond, "Here, I am. Send me."

And I heard the voice of the Lord saying,

"Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?"

Then I said,

"Here I am! Send me."

Isaiah 6:8

Freeing Truth

In a world where so much information is readily to hand, misinformation abounds, and truth, while made more accessible in some ways, is also obscured by an abundance of thinly shrouded lies.

These lies come in a variety of forms, from the fashionable to the radical. In short, there is a lie out there for everyone. One that will perfectly fit what you think you need. And if you later decide that it wasn't right, you can always change it for another perfect fit.

This makes finding the truth not only difficult, but uncomfortable as well. The truth does not change so easily. It doesn't conform. Rather than changing itself, it changes you.

The truth does this in a variety of ways, but the first, I think, is by making you lift your head and look outside yourself. As humans with a limited conscious, our entire world is often in our own mind. Every emotion, regret, hope, dream, even every sense, is entirely our own and can only be expressed with a certain degree of error to anyone else. This makes it easy to retreat into ourselves and find the most convenient and comfortable lie.

However, if we take a moment to look outside ourselves, even to peep through the keyhole, as it were, our entire point of view can change. Once we begin to go farther, to put ourselves in other people's places, to realize their needs, to see their fears and joys and failures as we would see our own, it becomes more difficult to retreat into a lie that only serves to make you comfortable.

Of course, caring for people is not the whole truth, although it is an important part of it. As anyone who has ever cared about another person for a long-time could tell you, people are not easy to love. We are all selfish to a degree, all guarded, and we are very good at expressing hurt by hurting someone else in return.

So the truth must go farther or we only end right back where we started, locked safely inside our own heads.

The question is, how does the truth go about making you look outside yourself to begin? What could possibly entice us out of our selves and our nest of warm and cozy lies into a world of sometimes bitter pain and discomfort?

To say that the truth is love, while completely honest, also sounds a bit of a cliché. So to avoid that, I'll go with another aspect of it and say that the truth is rescue. It is a rescue from the stagnation and bitterness of a life spent lived in such a tiny space as a single mind. It is a rescue, in fact, from yourself. Our selves are fully as needy as other people, and left on to itself a mind is perfectly capable of destroying its owner with anxiety, depression, suspicion and self-pity. All the cares of this life, when mulled upon, create a thick haze that leaves us confused about how to get out again.

The truth is that we have no need to care for ourselves or worry about the future, because we are already being cared for. We do not need to jealously guard our own interests, because they are already safe and sealed in a place no one else can ever cause them harm--assuming we have the good sense to let them alone and not destroy them ourselves. Rather than asking, "What can I get?", "How can I make them like me?", or "How can I make myself happy?", we can begin to ask, "What can I give?" and "How can I make them happy?", which are far better questions to be asking.

When we begin to ask those questions, the truth that caused our salvation starts to leak out in obvious ways and can save other people as well. This does require discomfort at times, a stepping outside our boundaries and certainties, a risk of being hurt--if only temporarily--but remember we have nothing to lose except the prison of our own minds.

There is only one truth that can do all this. Only one truth that does not require further action on your part. Only one truth that imparts grace and mercy, where others offer only endless works and condemnation.

The truth is that Jesus Christ died to take us out of ourselves, to release us from the chains of our sin and worry that held us bound so closely to our own lives and minds. He gave us freedom, and it would be a shame to waste it by closing the doors tight and refusing to budge.

"And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." 

John 8:32 

"For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age." 

Titus 2:11-12 

Speaking Grace

As a single woman, I've been hurt time and again by things that people have said clearly not understanding the weight of their words in an area where I'm already struggling to be content. Things like "Why aren't you married yet?", "Are you looking for someone?", "What you need to do is...". But even more than that, it's the unspoken but overarching sense of "I understand you, because I was single once, but you couldn't possibly understand me, because you've never been married/don't have children/etc."

I'm certainly not the only one who feels this way. There are numerous posts and blogs from people in all walks and places in life dedicated to the idea of what someone should or should not say to someone else. However, I don't want this to turn into one of those rants. Because the bottom line is this: I can't control what anyone else says or does to me.

So, to avoid unnecessary irritation, I need to focus on how I talk to other people and how I respond to people who say things that are hurtful, either purposefully or inadvertently, or prying or just plain annoying.

This is where mercy comes in heaps and handfuls. It isn't always easy to overlook an offense, but it's a lot easier when we consider the offenses that God has not simply overlooked, but wiped clean on our part.

"Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Ephesians 4:32 

Notice this verse doesn't say anything about someone asking for forgiveness. It just says to do it. Give mercy.

But what if someone really did mean to hurt me? What if it was intentional and spiteful and they are always doing the same thing?

Fortunately, it's quite simple, whether the slight was intentional or not doesn't make the least bit of difference in how I am supposed to react to it. I have one response to learn and to learn well. Forgive them.

"To have lawsuits at all with one another is already a defeat for you. Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded?" 1 Corinthians 6:7

"Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." Philippians 2:3-4

"For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment." James 2:13

"Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins." 

1 Peter 4:8

So that deals with the side of things where I'm the victim, but what if I'm the offender? What if I inadvertently say something that gives offense? Obviously, the best option is to try to avoid that situation. In a world where opinions are given unwanted and often unneeded, it isn't a bad idea for me to slow down, stop imagining that my answers are going to save the world from imminent doom, and speak grace, relying on God to give me the words that particular someone needs to hear.

"Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear." Ephesians 4:29

"Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person." Colossians 4:6 

Rails

Beliefs are the rails upon which our lives run.
We almost always act according to what we really believe.
It doesn't matter much what we say we believe or what we want others to think we believe...
That is why behavior is such a good indicator of a person's beliefs.
 - J.P. Moreland

   This made me stop and ask myself: what do I really believe? I know what I want to believe or what I say I believe, but if I look at my actions, what do they say I believe? The answer makes me want to flinch, because if I'm honest with myself, it's more than a little painful.

    If I truly believe a loving God is in complete control, not only of the universe but of my life individually, and if I completely trust him to take care of me and to work for the best in line with his perfect will, then I will be secure in where I am and what I am doing. I will not panic at unexpected circumstances, because I will know that while they were unexpected to me, God was not surprised, and his plan is still working as it should. I will not complain, because I would realize that the best growth comes through hard times and difficult situations, and, of course, that complaining never helped anything anyway. I will not cry out at the unfairness of life or lose myself in self-pity, because I won't be focusing on myself, I'll be looking to God. If I truly believe...

   But I do panic, I do complain, I do spend far too many nights crying because I'm alone, and life just isn't fair---and---and---

   So what do I believe? According to my actions, I believe that God cares about big things and great works, like countries and salvation, but not my every day, individual life. That somehow, in the midst of everything, I was forgotten, because I'm not important enough to merit the kind of attention that say, a missionary or civil rights leader, anyone with a more important calling than mine, would get. That because I'm not where I wanted to be, God must not care.

   And that's wrong. I know it's wrong. If God didn't care about normal, individual people, then none of my faith would make sense at all. It is my fault that my expectations were not where God wanted them to be. My fault and not God's that I was not prepared for my life to end up where it is. My fault that I don't look to him when I need help rather than looking down at the mire and bewailing my unlucky state. But how can I change beliefs that I didn't even know I had? I already know the truth. That isn't the issue. But how do I take what I know is true and make it what my heart (or my kidney, if you want to be Biblically accurate) believes?

   If beliefs are rails, then to change my beliefs, I'm going to have to do some heavy lifting. I'm going to need rails and ties, reason and time and a lot of prayer, and every time I start rolling down the tracks, I'm going to have to consciously move the switch, to say "I believe, help my unbelief!", to remind myself about what I know, until what I know is what I believe, and what I believe is what I do.

1. J.P. Moreland, "Living Smart," in Passionate Conviction: Contemporary Discourses on Christian Apologetics, ed. Paul Copan et al. (Nashville: B&H Publishing Group, 2007), 25.