Hope

Are We Firefighters Ready To Snuff Out Danger (And Hope)?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I woke up this morning, and couldn’t find the fire within me.

It had been smothered again.

I dug through the ashes and discarded dead branches, frantically looking.

I know there is a spark somewhere inside, still burning.

I couldn’t find it.

I looked to heaven, asking for His fire to fall on my life again, to ignite the areas around my life so that I could see the smoke and notice the clues. So I can see where I need to remove the wet branches of our best ideas and where we can lie on the ground, blowing to life that which You have begun.

I called in a friend to help and we took turns, one keeping watch. Dangers lurk nearby. This beginning fire will be snuffed if our backs are turned even momentarily. That is how fear works.

I take off my backpack and my firefighting suit. I was never meant to wear it anyway. But I like to be safe.

It’s cold out here without my extra layers on. I don’t have enough to feel comfortable. But shedding the outer layer has increased my urgency to get this fire burning brighter.

Will you help me?

Our very lives, our joie de vivre, our hope, depend on it.

Can you take a turn blowing on these embers while I do some jumping jacks to get warm? Following His way is not the path of comfort. Our discomfort draws us to Him, to the flame, hoping for some heat from these smoking embers.

When our lives turn to desperation, breakthrough is near.

Why had I ever been satisfied with less?

You?

Do you need to take off your firefighter’s suit, too, the outfit you wear just in case God’s fire will break out of the boundaries we established for this campfire?

Are you, too, afraid of being so close to fire without the necessary tools nearby to snuff out anything beyond the boundaries we establish as safe?

Have you put God in your box?

Do you stand nearby, fully dressed in firefighter’s gear, back to the embers, standing alert to open the fire extinguisher on the embers lest real flames burst forth? It’s dangerous having our backs to the fire.

How is your heart? Do you explain away the unexplainable? Do you say, “I’ll ponder that later,” to the hints of the divine you encounter in another’s life, in your own life?

Are you, too, one of the ones standing watch, back to the fire of what God wants to do through your life? Do your ankles quake, and your whole body shake as you stand, back to the flame, prepared for the inevitable? How are you doing, deep down?

Did our diligence with the fire extinguisher, smothering fires from heaven as they leap outside the bounds of a campfire, leave you exhausted and weary?

Come, friend. Come and sit by this fire. Let’s take off your firefighter’s suit, too.

You don’t need it anymore. Yes, you will be cold and uncomfortable. Let this discomfort push us closer to the embers, to the fires of where His spirit is moving as we seek our and each other’s breakthroughs.

And when you find some warmth, let it spark the kindling in your heart afresh.

Only then does real life begin.

[Jesus] will ignite the kingdom life, a fire, the Holy Spirit within you, changing you from the inside out. He’s going to clean house—make a clean sweep of your lives. He’ll place everything true in its proper place before God; everything false he’ll put out with the trash to be burned.

The Message

3 Common Responses To God’s Clues – Choose This One

/ Lori Lawe / 2 Comments

My child said she saw an angel.

And so, children sometimes peel back the curtain of heaven for us to quickly glimpse before the curtain is closed again. All we have left is a memory. What is our response to hearing stories that seem to push us into the realm of the divine, whether we want to go there or not?

Will the divine moments that we hear about be wasted on us?

There are three typical responses to another’s spiritual experiences: we become blind, jealous, or thirsty.

Most commonly, we become blind. Like a beautiful pristine camping spot, one mountain range further than we usually travel on our summer holidays, we won’t go there. It is not within the realm of our routine.

And so we are unable to see.

WAS there ever a pristine camping spot one mountain range over, we wonder, years later? WAS it an angel she said she saw? And then we are distracted again by our lunch.

The second most frequent response to stories of divine encounters is jealousy.

Instead of falling on our knees in worship and petitioning for a similar outpouring of the divine in our parched lives, some of us will compare. The soil of our hearts hardens just a little bit. That didn’t happen to ME.

They must think they are SPECIAL, we reason. They must assume they are MORE SPECIAL than ME. Often, that idea hadn’t crossed their minds.

But we’ve already tossed the implications of the divine moment in self-righteous indignation.

The third response, that very few travel, is a recognition of our spiritual thirst.

This heart response is gas for our car. We understand that each of us is offered an adoption certificate into the family of God, which comes with a royal inheritance. And from that identity, we can petition the Father, on our knees before Him, and ask, “Can You please pour out the divine in my life, God?”

We can beg Him for water because we see another who seems to have found a drink.

He always has more water.

I want you woven into a tapestry of love, in touch with everything there is to know of God.

The Message

God, soften the soil of our hearts equally through the encounters we experience in ourselves and those we hear about from others. Thank you that we can come to You with our doubts too and that You meet us exactly where we are. I pray we stop trying to stuff You into a box.

Keep waking us to a deeper understanding of your love, I pray.

How To Wake Up To Divine Moments – Treasure The Clues

/ Lori Lawe / 2 Comments

So, my toddler said she saw an angel one day.

Fast forward about seven years. We had moved to another house by that time. The subject of angels came up over lunch.

“You saw an angel once,” I ventured to that same child, now about ten years old.

I wondered if she would remember.

“WHAATT?” Her older sister demanded. She prided herself, as an older sister’s right, to know ALL of the family stories. How had she never heard this one?

I hadn’t mentioned it in all those years except for telling one friend and my husband what happened immediately afterward.

Who would have believed her anyway?

Children don’t have many words when they are three years old. Would she remember the incident now? And if so, could put more words around the experience? As much as possible, I wanted the conversation to come from her, not directed by me or influenced by my memory.

“Do you remember seeing an angel?” I ventured.

She said, “Yes”

I wanted to test her, to see if she was speaking accurately.

“Where were you when you saw the angel?”

“At the other house.”

I was startled.

Yes.

“And where was the angel?”

She said, “Outside”.

Oh no, I thought, she doesn’t remember. This event happened in the playroom. I was about to clean up the dishes when she continued, explaining more, “The angel was outside”.

Oh! Yes, I thought, the angel was outside the window we were staring at. That made sense.

Without my prompting, she explained that she was looking out the window in the playroom at the time.

She had remembered this very incident, which brought me shivers. This child was officially diagnosed with memory challenges a short time after this event*.

And yet she remembered the details of this event from many years earlier.

“What did you see?” I asked gently.

“The angel was singing. It had gold shoes and a gold sash.”

I sensed that we were standing on holy ground.

“Oh,” I said.

What else was there to say?

And then we finished our lunch.

~

And what is our response when divine moments encroach upon our lives?

Everyone should allow divine moments, either our own or others, to propel them further along God’s spiritual path for them. But how? The softness of our heart, exposed as one of three common responses, will determine whether we stay stuck in the mud spiritually or whether we are launched further and deeper along our spiritual paths.

In the next post, we will evaluate these most common heart responses after God interrupts the mundane.

He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go.

The Message

God, thank you that sometimes, for a brief moment, You open our eyes to the possibility of the divine through our or others’ experiences.

Help us wake up to grasp what is right before us when our eyes are opened and our ears can hear. Help us to speak openly about what we have heard and seen. May the unusual become commonplace in each of our lives, we pray.

While we do not place our faith directly in angels, we should place it in the God who rules the angels; then we can have peace.

Billy Graham

What unusual divine moments have you experienced? Or what is a sacred moment that another has told you about that seemed plausible? Has this moment or a curiosity about this experience propelled your spiritual journey?

Blogpost Footnotes

*These cognitive challenges were later healed years after this event through diet, but that is a story for another day.

How To Be Brave At The Dentist’s And Doctor’s

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

I was having considerable dental work done, about a 3-hour appointment.

I brought my audiobook so “I can pretend I’m somewhere else,” I told the dentist. I was listening to a dramatization of people who were persecuted and even martyred for their faith. That audiobook helped to put my own relatively minor suffering in perspective.

And yet, as the dentist said, “This is the part when I’m like a woodpecker,” and placed a metal rod on my teeth which he then proceeded to hammer on like a mallet, I felt slightly… uncomfortable.

I sensed Holy Spirit in the room, almost like He was sitting beside me, wanting to hold my hand.

It used to be surprising to me when God wanted to speak or envelope me in His love.

But not anymore.

At that moment, I briefly remembered some ridiculous things my daughter feared. One summer, for example, she was scared of house flies and would not go to the park or eat outside without screaming as this terrifying flying animal approached her. I brushed off her fears and told her to move on.

And yet that’s not how Holy Spirit treated me with my concerns, which are so tiny in the scope of life.

Every time the dentist gently smashed me in my face, I could sense my adrenaline rise, and then I could sense Jesus comforting me. Like a roller coaster constantly about to head uphill, he smoothed out the hills and valleys of this experience so that my roller coaster ride was less bumpy. As I fearfully clutched His hand, He calmed me repeatedly so that the essence of this experience was the peace of His comfort.

He seemed to be holding my hand.

When the ordeal was over, the dentist and dental assistant commented that dental work would be much easier if more patients were as calm as I was.

I couldn’t have been more shocked.

“Who, me?” I wondered, looking around.

God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.

The Message

And God, may I be the comforting presence to another’s fears next.

And so, what are the easiest ways to be brave at the dentist’s or doctor’s?

I have no idea, unfortunately, however three clues we can glean from this recent experience are:

1. Listen to audiobooks about people who die for a cause they believe in while people are deliberately maiming you. It helps! Try this one to get you started.

2. Practice picking up the clues of God’s presence in your life, and talk to a trusted friend about your questions and experiences.

3. Ask Him to comfort you and hold on tight when Jesus surprises you by showing up in your life.

God, may You comfort everyone reading this at their upcoming medical appointments more intimately with your soothing words, voice, and tangible arms of love. We pray for strength for today with the challenges each of us faces. Help us to learn how to more fully lean on You when life’s challenges come, we pray.

Anger, Not Indifference, Expresses Love

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

The bible story pictures tend to most often portray Jesus sitting on the grass, Buddha style, with some children frolicking nearby, spewing truths that people fell over themselves trying to catch.

Which would be true.

But Jesus also got angry.

Anger fueled by love that erups within our souls like a volcano sometimes contains the seeds that can eventually heal culture.

TED: How To Make Peace? Get Angry by Kailash Satyarthi

Examples of the rumble in my soul:

  • Smartphones and other devices distract us from the search for God that stirs our souls. We yawn, and these devices sing us a lullaby and tuck us into bed. Hours and hours of these distractions put the raging monster, capable of transforming an entire cultural landscape to sleep with its soft coos and gentle caresses.  Sleep, little babe, sleep.  And we obey.
  • For those of us who claim to follow Jesus, which almost one-third of the people on earth claim to do, we are told we are part of God’s army of brave warriors. But we too often look at the armour next to us on the ground, asking “Isn’t it too heavy to lift, and how does one fasten these garments anyway?” We lamely look around and see some using their swords with skill, defeating the evil of the mind, and they beg us to join them in the fight. God whispers to us but we don’t hear Him. We are looking for something – our ears.
  • A generation of tots lined up in rows, and we calmly watch as they march in neat little rows, each one off the edge of the cliff. “What can we do anyway?” we mourn a bit to each other amidst sips of tea.  And so, a generation is led to the pit of pornography addiction and masochistic internet violence as a common cultural pastime.  They spend the next decades trying to struggle out of the steep-sided, sand-covered pit of secret sexual addictions*.  And we turn our backs so that we can’t see them fall.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM

Are we ready, yet, to wake early and cry out from the fetal position, begging for wisdom, ears to hear, and a living heart in exchange for our hardened coal-shaped ones?

And as we are comforted by Jesus, is He asking us to comfort or to challenge our secular or church culture or to change our actions? He gives us a drink of His medicine that hurts us and then heals us of the diseases caught by our culture. Anyone thirsty?

What mountainside is He asking us to allow to be transformed by righteous anger spawned by love for God, ourselves, and others? 

How does God want to transform our righteous anger into love in action?

And volcanos affect others. And so another person picks up the ash-laden, dirty piece of paper spewed from one of these God-inspired volcanos.  Can they make out the letters, which are dirty and half missing? 

Yes, they read it . . . “Climate injustice is linked to poverty,” says one scrap of paper. And with a gentle nudge from our Saviour, a rub on the back, telling her it is okay to be angry, another explosion, and another and another, for the ash from one volcano encourages the next to explode. 

Love for God, for our fellow human sheep, those both lost and found, beget love in prayer and action.

And are we afraid?  

Afraid of who we would be, of what we would do if we stopped holding in our anger, stopping sucking in our stomach like a weightlifter, stopped smiling to show off artificial, TV-worthy teeth? 

What if we didn’t care what they thought of us or what we looked like?  What if we looked more like John the Baptist, eating whatever we distractedly found along the way, dressed in ripped rags from our fierce single-minded pursuit of God, and covered in ash from being so close to the explosions? 

Because when God looks at us, sometimes He is looking for the fruit that the seed of anger produces in our lives.

So we can exchange our anger for love in action.

And that is how culture is restored.

Jesus put together a whip out of strips of leather and chased them out of the Temple, stampeding the sheep and cattle, upending the tables of the loan sharks, spilling coins left and right. He told the dove merchants, “Get your things out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a shopping mall!”

The Message

Blogpost Footnotes:

*For a secular example, see Chapter 4 of The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge

Anger, Expressed As Love, Is Hope For Culture

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

God is very different from who I thought He would be.

I’m a lot different from who I thought I would eventually become when I first started longing to know more about God, too.

At Sunday school or elsewhere when we first heard about God, He often appeared as a “turn the other cheek” when an enemy tried to smack Him kind of a guy.

And since we are made in His image, I had a vague impression that the ultimate goal of the spiritual life is to become the kind of person who lies down so people can wipe their feet on us.

If that’s the case, then I was blown away by what God spoke into the recesses of my heart that day. God, are you who I think you are? 

Of course not,

is His inaudible answer, and in his fury at the audacity of the question, He erupts as a violent volcano, splashing the earth with ashes of his love.

A volcano . . . erupting . . . love? I can explain because I am a mini-volcano formed in His image.  I haven’t exploded yet. But I can feel the rumble, and I know it is coming. 

And he is edging me on.

Don’t be afraid of your anger,

He spoke gently into the recesses of my heart recently. He comforted me in empathy, the way my dad would rub my back when I was a child, just before I would throw up. You know that feeling just before you are sick when you remember you will feel much better to have the bile removed from inside of you? That’s how I have been feeling.

I had been covering up the threatening volcanic eruption with my best church bonnet and long white Sunday dress. 

Like the person who travels to a volcano that threatens eruption, and pours a bit of water, a shovel full at a time, on top of the huge mountain to pacify it a little bit, I placated my growing anger. 

I shoved the equivalent of a baby pacifier into my mouth at church, turned aside, and listened to relentless chatter. Another shovelful of water, please. Or she’s a gonna blow.

My anger terrifies me. 

I once climbed an active volcano in Costa Rica, la Rincon de la Vieja. Tourists would never have been allowed that close to an active volcano in ultra-safe Canada. They wouldn’t have been allowed within miles of that place. And as I stood at the top of that mountain and looked around, I was shocked at the scale of the devastation. 

An entire mountainside of bare rocks, with the jungle forest beginning abruptly in the valley far below.

Yet scientists know that after the initial devastation, volcanic ash enriches the soil with its dense nutrient load. 

Soil from this ash produces some of the lushest plant life on earth. 

So as God rubs my back, gently telling me it’s okay to be sick, I realize that holding in my anger only makes me feel sicker.

At that moment, the clerk at the checkout counter seemed to silently ask me as she wrapped my package with a smile, “Would you like modern-day slavery with that?¨

And my anger, rightly expressed as love, compels me to take one small step in a direction that opens the door to better alignment with my true identity.

And this anger, no longer stuffed inside but rightly expelled as love, contains the soil that can nourish the seed of hope.

Does anyone dare despise this day of small beginnings?

The Message

When Easter Is A Noisy Cymbal Clanging

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

Sometimes we mess up holidays.

For example, once a stranger at the Dollar Store asked me if I thought there was something not-quite-right about Hallowe’en. (I asked if it was perhaps the sweet little kids combined with creepy maiming imagery that seems off? Or is it just me?)

Similarly, could the way that we do Easter be not-quite-right?

For example, take Easter egg hunts.

Besides the fact that kids are searching for poison in the form of sugar, they have already been accustomed to, after staring comatose at thousands of industry-funded ads over their short lifetimes, promoting dumping the white substance over their breakfast cereals, crackers and drinks, besides that.

Are Easter egg hunts harmless?

My daughter participated in an Easter egg hunt. Several of the bigger, stronger, and more self-obsessed kids pushed others to the ground to gorge themselves even more, slobbering chocolate over the smaller kids sitting nearby, who were crying because they didn’t find any eggs.

But we tolerate this.

Why? It’s likely because the self-obsessed kids won’t listen to us, either. “Come on, Jimmy, why don’t you give some of your eggs to Sally?” we plead.

But they have already been eaten.

Compare this to the Xhosa culture in South Africa.

Kids were told whoever got to the fruit tree first won the sweet fruits. They held hands and ran together. Then they sat in a circle and ate together.

“Why?” the westerners asked. “UBUNTU, how can one of us be happy if all the others are sad?” UBUNTU in the Xhosa culture means: “I am because we are.”

And we are in culture shock again.

What are we teaching our children at the Easter egg hunt? We are the ones setting culture. The children are merely living up to our expectations.

The whole congregation of believers was united as one – one heart, one mind! 

The Message

And so, how do we hear a little less noise and a bit more of the wind blowing through the trees and our hearts this Easter?

If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

Ancient Text

We find some love, the kind that has been deposited in our pockets when we were looking for something else, and place a handful in the Easter baskets of the people whose lives we stumble across.

And joy comes to us, too.

For that is His way.

When Jesus died, he took sin down with him, but alive he brings God down to us . . . God speaks your mother tongue, and you hang on every word.

The Message

May you hear the sweet sound of His loving voice whispering to your heart ever more clearly this season, friend.

And may you find some love in your easter basket, too.

How To Rise From The Dead This Easter Season

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

The amaryllis opened its two enormous blossoms this week, revealing pink and white splendour and raising the scent profile of the room to a higher level.

And I am that amaryllis.

And so are you.

Let me explain.

About two decades ago, a neighbour gave us an amaryllis bulb in a cardboard package. “Water is all that is needed!” the box guaranteed. Beauty was promised to erupt from within this dry soil and ordinary pot.

I was excited about this, but I forgot about the plant in its little cardboard box in the rush of moving to another city. I felt guilty when I noticed it again a couple of years later. It was strewn between other forgotten items in our garage.

I gave it a few drops of water half-heartedly, looking at my watch as I waited for it to sprout life.

Then I got distracted.

“Well, I gave that a try, at least,” I thought, many years later when I saw the pot, out of its box now at least, but perched precariously on some items that needed sorting in the bowels of our garage. At least my guilt at not having TRIED to bring it to life was dissipated. “But I should give it another try,” I thought on my lunch break one day years later.

But when lunch was over, to-do items kept me running in circles. Days stretched to weeks and months. Another decade passed.

Our kids outgrew even more clothes, and I returned their small clothing items to the garage to deal with later.

“Remember me?” the amaryllis seemed to ask that year as I dumped a pile of too-small clothes on the floor beside it.

“We sometimes have to admit defeat,” I thought to myself, my advancing years having created a deep wisdom, called complacency, within. My few strands of grey hair had made me more rational and truthful. I didn’t look up from the floor as I spoke to myself.

My gaze had become limited.

I moved the plant to where we put things going to the dump.

At the prayer meeting that week, we were reminded to ask God to bring to life the seeds He had planted in us long ago. The ones He spoke in the whispers of the early morning hours or through the words of a friend – the ones we can’t quite find faith to believe.

And we were reminded to pour out our disappointments and frustrations to God. And to beg Him to make life sprout from the barren soils of our hearts.

And then I added a drop of water, two, on a whim that day to the amaryllis that was placed en route to the garbage dump.

Maybe?

And life sprouted.

And buds came in the form of hope.

And my soul was watered every time I watered that plant because hope was sprouting in me, too.

When the forgotten bulb in the little brown pot that hadn’t flowered in 20 years burst forth in all its fullness this Easter, I gazed at it in wonder.

And I don’t give up on you, either, Jesus whispered.

Because I know what the soil of your heart is capable of if you let Me pour some water on the seeds I have planted in your life.

Are you ready yet, dear child, to dare to hope in the impossible?

Friend, are you?

God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!

The Message

What impossible seed has He planted that you have forgotten about or nearly given up on? Does He want to plant an impossible seed in you today? Can you squeeze a few drops of Easter hope from dry soil to water this seed?

Consider asking for the strength to ponder this question, clean ears to hear His love, a heart to trust His goodness, and hope from the water of His Spirit.

And may your life blossom in great fullness against all expectations too, friend.

To God be the glory!

(Happy Easter.)

Overwhelmed? (Non-)Expert Psychotherapy For Free!

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

So, I saw a Psychotherapist for the first time this week.

Oh, shut up! You need to see a Psychotherapist, too! You’re just too afraid of what may be dragged up from the depths to step near her office.

So I thought I would teach you what she taught me so you can save $160.

Yup. Psychotherapists get paid $160 PER HOUR.

I thought there must be a decimal error somewhere, too.

Nope.

So she taught me a “Tapping” technique called EFT Tapping.

I’ll teach it to you!

Now, in case you didn’t know, a caveat is that I am NOT a Psychotherapist! In fact, I have no idea what Psychotherapy even is! Psychotherapy has the root word “psycho” in it, which is a bit concerning, if I’m honest.

But, hey! What can go wrong? I’m teaching you what I learned for free!

If you try this technique and accidentally go more nuts or something, then sorry! Full refund! Haha!

(Since this is free . . . get it? Never mind.)

And we’re off!

So you Tap. Using two fingers, you gently Tap on the places where we usually rub our heads when overwhelmed. Yes! It’s easy!

And this is based on REAL science!

I’ll tell you what happened in my appointment so you can get the FULL experience.

She asked me how I was feeling RIGHT THEN. A little overwhelmed, frantic, and busy. Aren’t we all?

I mentioned why I thought this was the case, and she said, in an I’m-not-really-listening way, “Oh, that’s too bad!”

So I won’t listen to you as you answer that question either!

You’re welcome!

Then, she switched gears and said we could try “Tapping.” I thought it was a little insensitive of her not to talk through much of what I said, as most often, the reason we pay people is so they’ll listen to us. (Wait. Does that mean I should pay you for listening to me on this blog? Never mind.)

Anyway, I’m giving this a shot, trusting her.

And now, since I learned from her, you can trust me!

As mentioned, EFT Tapping is based on science. Here, I’m not even lying about the science part, as I was here!

So we Tap the beginning of one eyebrow, the end of the eyebrow, under the eye. You know how we naturally rub our temples or under our eyes when overwhelmed?

Other places are under the nose, the little divot on our chin, below our collarbone, and armpits.

As I was Tapping, I was thinking, who in the world has TIME for this?

This thought reminded me of a story about my good friend. She was told about some new scientific research. When a dog is happy, it wags its tail slightly MORE on the right than the left.

My friend had a blank look and replied, “Who the *** has time to study that ***?”

I was connecting with her feelings of time frustration as I Tapped.

However, remembering that my body shut down on me when I ran it into the ground a few months ago, I shut up and Tapped. (This is only a slight exaggeration of the truth of why my body shut down here, but who CARES about truth anymore, anyway?).

Are you Tapping?

Good!

Then, I found some tears sliding down my cheek, which was a little weird. I’m not a frequent crier. (My husband says I’m lying here again. No comment.) My motto is: Life is too funny for tears!

But when I slowed down, here’s the thing:

I could hear the voice of God speaking to the depths, healing me a little more.

I think the biggest key to learning to hear from God is SLOWING DOWN.

And what did He say? Good question.

What did He say to you when you slowed down for a minute to be still?

In repentance and rest is your salvation,
    in quietness and trust is your strength

Ancient Text

Another time, I’ll write up the part about what God seemed to whisper, so you’ll pay me that 99 cents for the information you CAN’T WAIT another day for!

Ha!

Just kidding!

This information is free, remember!

Just know: You get what you pay for!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

How To Be A Little Less Nuts – 3 Lessons From The Trenches

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I ate and ate and ate, stuffing in chocolate cake, ice cream, sweets, candy, and lollipops. And why?

I don’t know.

“Why do we do stupid things?” is a good question.

Why do we make that wrong romantic decision or escalate a fight when we know we can never win?

(Of course, winning an argument is not the ONLY reason to purposely escalate fights. For more helpful marital advice, go here. You’re welcome!)

Why come down so hard on our kids that we’ve discouraged them from trying again?

Why do we yell at our spouse and then assume the “happy, polite voice” when the phone rings?

And then why do we turn to ice cream, and when we’ve polished off that container, search the cupboards for that half box of stale cookies we are sure is in there somewhere?

And why do we repeat this cycle?

“Yeah, sure, I get it,” I respond, a mouthful of ice cream making it hard to annunciate my words. “We feel bad, and so we want the endorphin rush that sugar or crystal meth provides.”

Yeah.

But how do we step off this crazy cycle and reassess our lives and decisions from a thousand feet up?

How do we get back onto the trail in the forest, the one where we meander on the hike with our friends, laughing a bit as we walk, resting at the cabin in the woods before continuing our journeys?

How can we be a little less nuts?

Lately, this is the question I have been pondering lately as I try to extract myself from my recently constructed crazy loop.

Got any advice?

My ice cream is finished and I have a few seconds before heading to the cupboard to look for stale treats.

How do we stop being the nuts-o little bird I saw that day repeatedly pounding its head against the window and instead peck around in the forest like we were made to do?

Maybe we’ve finally discerned the right question to ask:

How are we behaving in ways humans were never designed to behave?

1. Well, Jesus has been knocking on our door for the last few minutes, or hours, or decades. He greets us with a smile and a wave when we finally open the door, holding the first draught of the medicine we need that will make our hearts and stomachs ache but eventually feel better. Do we slam the door in His face again and return to our lonely rooms and video games, telling ourselves that our cheap thrills and distractions are better than tea with a friend who understands our deepest headaches and offers us a Kleenex and some hope, Jesus?

2. Did we stop long enough to listen to the warning sounds, the alarm bells that indicate something is amiss, long before we act out irrationally?

For example, when I started homeschooling, I surprised myself by lashing out in anger at my unsuspecting kids over a minor infraction. I couldn’t figure out my behaviour but my first step towards healing was noticing the growing hint of resentment as my husband sat on the couch, the jealousy towards my kids that they were reading while I was cleaning up again, and the longing for time by myself. Would I stop playing the martyr when I first noticed these cues and head out for a walk or a visit with a friend, my understanding husband wishing me well and patting me on the back for being proactive this time?

Or would I wait for the full volcanic eruption, spewing my partially digested insides for all to see?

3. Am I being patient with myself? Growth in all plants and animals takes more time than we have to sit around waiting for it. Can we pat each other on the back whenever we see growth in our friends, family, or ourselves?

For example, yeah, I ate a bunch of extra dessert this week, and no, not even on a Sunday!

I slipped in that habit, but I’ve been growing in other healthy practices.

Did we remember to count our wins?

. . . it’s important to build a rule of life slowly, deliberately, and prayerfully . . . is there one practice (Sabbath, prayer, spiritual friendship, witness, etc.) that would be most fruitful for you to begin with? Do you sense the Holy Spirit leading you to focus on a particular aspect…?

Ken Shigematsu God in My Everything – How An Ancient Rhythm Helps Busy People Enjoy God

We don’t compare ourselves with where we want to end up. That’s too discouraging. But when we pick ourselves up after a fall and jump back in the race, then we can be sure Jesus is cheering us on.

Because we’re growing!

Well done, friend!

No, you’re not a nutcase – you only seem that way!

You’re welcome!

Good luck!