"Yeah, I always feel like someone could do my job so much better than me", she confessed over a cafeteria lunch on that overcast Spring day.
I was astonished-- she is so, so good at her job. Like, it amazes me how dedicated, disciplined and caring she is through her leadership.
We continued talking, honestly divulging our deep seated fears and uncertainties over our job performance. I wondered if I was the best person for the job, and she wondered the same. I told her that at the end of the day I really want to be accepted and I long for approval of man. She confessed the same. And in that moment we realized how similar we were-- two young women, seeking to serve the Lord, attending a small Christian University, who were afraid of disappointing others.
And if experience has taught me anything, I don't think we're alone.
I work with a lot of people. I have a lot of conversations. I hear a lot of fears. And the more time I spend hearing people's stories, the more I realize that a resounding question of the human race, is this: "Am I good enough?" Everyone seems to be asking it.
Deep down, we fear that we are failing, that we are a disappointment, that we aren't quite good enough. That somehow everyone else has found the secret to 'having it all together' and somehow we never got the memo.
Our conversation continued, and I told her "I think where the problem comes in for me is through comparison. We compare our insides to everyone else's outsides..."
As I think about this epidemic, I wonder where we got off thinking that we aren't 'good enough.' I wonder who made us believe that? I wonder who spoke those lies?
I have some educated guesses, but who gets to override what the Lord says and tell us that we are a failure, a disappointment, that we're not accepted?
The lies are so embedded, sometimes it feels nearly impossible to untangle the truth from the lies and to throw out the lies and grasp tightly to the truth.
I don't have the answers to this dilemma, but I invite you to join me for this series, asking and attempting to answer the age old question: "Am I good enough?"
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
More than I can Handle
"God won't give you more than you can handle."
I hear well meaning Christians say this often. Many times it is thrown because of discomfort or in an effort to ease the pain of a friend or family member. The intention is good, but the idea is false. It is not found anywhere in scripture (although a verse in 1 Corinthians talking about temptation is often quoted in order to make this point).
I guess having lost my mother at far too young an age and long before I was 'ready' for it makes me reject this notion. It was more than I could handle.
I was a mess and grief shook me to the core.
Almost six months later, I am in a healthy place. I am not so fearful. Not so scared. Not so drained and exhausted. Not searching for words constantly.
And I guess my point is this-- while I understand and appreciate the sentiment behind this idea, for the one who has suffered deep loss and trauma, this just sounds like a pat answer. And it isn't true.
I could not handle losing my mom. I wasn't prepared. But the story doesn't end there. I didn't have to be able to 'handle' it. I didn't have to be strong enough. I couldn't be, no matter how hard I tried. I simply couldn't be.
But, long before that day I began a relationship with the One who could handle it. Long before that day I put my trust in the One who holds and handles the world and was also big enough to hold my problems. And that brought more peace than anything else.
This notion of needing to be strong enough only leads to striving, working harder and becoming discouraged and disillusioned when we fail.
So I encourage you to seek out the One who can hold and handle your problems. There is nothing He can't handle. That is very good news.
I hear well meaning Christians say this often. Many times it is thrown because of discomfort or in an effort to ease the pain of a friend or family member. The intention is good, but the idea is false. It is not found anywhere in scripture (although a verse in 1 Corinthians talking about temptation is often quoted in order to make this point).
I guess having lost my mother at far too young an age and long before I was 'ready' for it makes me reject this notion. It was more than I could handle.
I was a mess and grief shook me to the core.
Almost six months later, I am in a healthy place. I am not so fearful. Not so scared. Not so drained and exhausted. Not searching for words constantly.
And I guess my point is this-- while I understand and appreciate the sentiment behind this idea, for the one who has suffered deep loss and trauma, this just sounds like a pat answer. And it isn't true.
I could not handle losing my mom. I wasn't prepared. But the story doesn't end there. I didn't have to be able to 'handle' it. I didn't have to be strong enough. I couldn't be, no matter how hard I tried. I simply couldn't be.
But, long before that day I began a relationship with the One who could handle it. Long before that day I put my trust in the One who holds and handles the world and was also big enough to hold my problems. And that brought more peace than anything else.
This notion of needing to be strong enough only leads to striving, working harder and becoming discouraged and disillusioned when we fail.
So I encourage you to seek out the One who can hold and handle your problems. There is nothing He can't handle. That is very good news.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Date-ability and Desirability
"What about you, Hannah? Have you ever been in a relationship?" He asked as we walked back to my dorm.
"Nope, never been in a relationship" I answered. I wasn't ashamed, but I realized how odd that was coming out of the mouth of a nearly 24 year old.
"Can I ask why?" He inquired. There was no ill-will in his voice. He was simply curious, and he cared, as friends do.
I thought for a moment, hemmed and hawed a little bit and then answered: "Well, in high school, there were guys in my class and such, but you know, they were 17, 18 and had some growing to do. Plus, it wasn't really encouraged growing up. We didn't really talk about it in my family, so it was never something I did. And after high school I moved around so much. I was never in one place very long to be able to form those close relationships, I guess... and I'm also not that aggressive I guess. I am content in where I am. Mostly. I'm not always, but I know when it comes, it will be the right timing."
This was true. I was content. And I did love what I was doing. But there was a part of me that, like my friend, also asked "why?"
Why haven't I been in a relationship? Well, because I've never been seriously pursued by a male. Sure, there has been interest there, but it never turned into anything more than friendship.
Why haven't I been in a relationship? The me five years ago would have told you it is because I was too emotional, too uncertain, too much, not enough, too quiet, too opinionated, too 'everything'.
Why haven't I been in a relationship? Truth is, I don't know. I have spent hours and days agonizing over that exact question. Analyzing, wondering, worrying, fearing. Am I too dependent? Am I not aggressive enough? Am I too flighty? Am I too quiet? Am I too plain? Am I not expressive enough? I want to have the answer. I want to put it in a box and label it: "This is why". I want to be able to pull out the contents and examine them and understand why, in 24 years I have never had a male friendship progress into a 'relationship.'
People have told me numerous times "Hannah, you'll make a great wife and mom someday, the man who gets you will be a lucky man." I am flattered and honored. And I do believe it, but I guess I've also come to realize that relationship status doesn't determine 'date-ability'. It doesn't determine desirability. Being single does not mean that I am less desirable than the one that is in a relationship. Maybe it just means my story looks different than theirs. Maybe it means that the Lord chose to allow me to have different, unique, shaping experiences. Not better, not worse. Just different. And maybe that diversity is a beautiful thing.
I have spent years wondering what needed to change. I figured if I was in my twenties and hadn't ever been in a relationship, then something was seriously wrong. Because everyone I knew had been in a relationship or had at least had serious interest by that point. Because everyone kept making comments about 'finding someone' and settling down. Because everyone eyed me when an attractive man walked by. Because, well you're twenty, and that is what you do when you're twenty.
Friends, if I could share with you one thing in regards to relationships, it would be this-- please do not believe that lie that if you haven't dated, it is because you're not wanted. Please to do not believe the lie that says you need to be dating in order to be valuable. Please do not believe the lie that says that marriage is the end-all, be-all of life. It is a beautiful, amazing, God-given gift that is good. But it is not all there is. It is not all you are. Don't waste years of your life agonizing over if you are wanted by a man.
Because you are wanted. Everyday of your life you are wanted. You are wanted by the one that gave His very life to have a relationship with you. And knowing that does not leave room for questioning your value. He's already determined it. He's already proven it.
I pray that you rest in knowing that no matter what your relationship status is, you are desirable. You are loved. Massively loved. His heart is the only one that can truly fill yours.
May you have shalom in His presence.
He delights in His children.
"Nope, never been in a relationship" I answered. I wasn't ashamed, but I realized how odd that was coming out of the mouth of a nearly 24 year old.
"Can I ask why?" He inquired. There was no ill-will in his voice. He was simply curious, and he cared, as friends do.
I thought for a moment, hemmed and hawed a little bit and then answered: "Well, in high school, there were guys in my class and such, but you know, they were 17, 18 and had some growing to do. Plus, it wasn't really encouraged growing up. We didn't really talk about it in my family, so it was never something I did. And after high school I moved around so much. I was never in one place very long to be able to form those close relationships, I guess... and I'm also not that aggressive I guess. I am content in where I am. Mostly. I'm not always, but I know when it comes, it will be the right timing."
This was true. I was content. And I did love what I was doing. But there was a part of me that, like my friend, also asked "why?"
Why haven't I been in a relationship? Well, because I've never been seriously pursued by a male. Sure, there has been interest there, but it never turned into anything more than friendship.
Why haven't I been in a relationship? The me five years ago would have told you it is because I was too emotional, too uncertain, too much, not enough, too quiet, too opinionated, too 'everything'.
Why haven't I been in a relationship? Truth is, I don't know. I have spent hours and days agonizing over that exact question. Analyzing, wondering, worrying, fearing. Am I too dependent? Am I not aggressive enough? Am I too flighty? Am I too quiet? Am I too plain? Am I not expressive enough? I want to have the answer. I want to put it in a box and label it: "This is why". I want to be able to pull out the contents and examine them and understand why, in 24 years I have never had a male friendship progress into a 'relationship.'
People have told me numerous times "Hannah, you'll make a great wife and mom someday, the man who gets you will be a lucky man." I am flattered and honored. And I do believe it, but I guess I've also come to realize that relationship status doesn't determine 'date-ability'. It doesn't determine desirability. Being single does not mean that I am less desirable than the one that is in a relationship. Maybe it just means my story looks different than theirs. Maybe it means that the Lord chose to allow me to have different, unique, shaping experiences. Not better, not worse. Just different. And maybe that diversity is a beautiful thing.
I have spent years wondering what needed to change. I figured if I was in my twenties and hadn't ever been in a relationship, then something was seriously wrong. Because everyone I knew had been in a relationship or had at least had serious interest by that point. Because everyone kept making comments about 'finding someone' and settling down. Because everyone eyed me when an attractive man walked by. Because, well you're twenty, and that is what you do when you're twenty.
Friends, if I could share with you one thing in regards to relationships, it would be this-- please do not believe that lie that if you haven't dated, it is because you're not wanted. Please to do not believe the lie that says you need to be dating in order to be valuable. Please do not believe the lie that says that marriage is the end-all, be-all of life. It is a beautiful, amazing, God-given gift that is good. But it is not all there is. It is not all you are. Don't waste years of your life agonizing over if you are wanted by a man.
Because you are wanted. Everyday of your life you are wanted. You are wanted by the one that gave His very life to have a relationship with you. And knowing that does not leave room for questioning your value. He's already determined it. He's already proven it.
I pray that you rest in knowing that no matter what your relationship status is, you are desirable. You are loved. Massively loved. His heart is the only one that can truly fill yours.
May you have shalom in His presence.
He delights in His children.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
The Choice of Apathy
"I could care about school, but I'm graduating in May."
I cringed as I heard this statement, walking down the hill from class the other day. Immediately my mind felt outrage mixed with sadness. Outrage at the flippancy of it. Sadness at the truth of it.
In some respects, I understand the feeling. 'Senioritis', as we often call it sets in and plants itself. And its stubborn and hard to uproot. There are numerous moments when motivation was scarce and when I honestly felt as though I didn't care a whole lot. I get it.
But I also know that while we do not always have control of our immediate emotions, we do have control over our response to them. Sometimes we want to want something. But we don't actually want it. That is a tough place to be. And I have learned that in those moments, we have a choice. We can choose to allow those emotions and the apathy to rule our lives or we can choose a different path. We can choose to 'boss around our emotions' at times and persevere in the midst of feelings of apathy.
Apathy is a powerful motivator... to do nothing. And often times it wins in the battle of our will. Often times, we give in to apathy and choose to do the easy thing. The un-risky thing. We choose to take the path of least resistance and an overall attitude of not caring sets in. That scares me. It scares me because I know how easy apathy is. The feeling of apathy is not one that we can always 'will away' but we can and do choose what we will do in the midst of apathy. I also know that the Lord does not allow us to remain in apathy. We are called to more. Much more.
Paul reminds the church at Rome to not be slothful in zeal but fervent in spirit in chapter 12, verse 11. This has been a struggle since the dawn of time. Apathy is easy. Taking action is hard. But, often times the hard things are the most worthwhile. Life-giving. God honoring. And they matter. They matter a lot.
So I guess my challenge to myself (and to you) is to choose to do what is right even when my feelings don't line up. To choose fervency instead of apathy. To choose the 'road less traveled' instead of the path of least resistance.
Because our choices matter.
I cringed as I heard this statement, walking down the hill from class the other day. Immediately my mind felt outrage mixed with sadness. Outrage at the flippancy of it. Sadness at the truth of it.
In some respects, I understand the feeling. 'Senioritis', as we often call it sets in and plants itself. And its stubborn and hard to uproot. There are numerous moments when motivation was scarce and when I honestly felt as though I didn't care a whole lot. I get it.
But I also know that while we do not always have control of our immediate emotions, we do have control over our response to them. Sometimes we want to want something. But we don't actually want it. That is a tough place to be. And I have learned that in those moments, we have a choice. We can choose to allow those emotions and the apathy to rule our lives or we can choose a different path. We can choose to 'boss around our emotions' at times and persevere in the midst of feelings of apathy.
Apathy is a powerful motivator... to do nothing. And often times it wins in the battle of our will. Often times, we give in to apathy and choose to do the easy thing. The un-risky thing. We choose to take the path of least resistance and an overall attitude of not caring sets in. That scares me. It scares me because I know how easy apathy is. The feeling of apathy is not one that we can always 'will away' but we can and do choose what we will do in the midst of apathy. I also know that the Lord does not allow us to remain in apathy. We are called to more. Much more.
Paul reminds the church at Rome to not be slothful in zeal but fervent in spirit in chapter 12, verse 11. This has been a struggle since the dawn of time. Apathy is easy. Taking action is hard. But, often times the hard things are the most worthwhile. Life-giving. God honoring. And they matter. They matter a lot.
So I guess my challenge to myself (and to you) is to choose to do what is right even when my feelings don't line up. To choose fervency instead of apathy. To choose the 'road less traveled' instead of the path of least resistance.
Because our choices matter.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
The Art of Singleness
I am a Christian. I attend a private Christian University. I am 23.
There is a campus wide joke that goes around- "Ring by Spring." And everyone "gasps" when you graduate and aren't in a serious relationship or engaged. Its mostly good fun, but there is also some truth to the sly statements that make their way into conversation.
This is the time of life when people my age are dating seriously, getting engaged and married and even starting families. I have friends my age who are all of those stages.
And I love it. I love that I get to journey with my friends who are in relationships. I get to hear about the ups and downs. I get to hear about the things they love about their special someone. I get to listen as they tell me about dates and qualities that they admire.
I love that I get to go bridesmaids dress shopping with my girlfriends that are engaged. I love that I get to brainstorm and help dream up ideas and color schemes and the perfect day for my good friends. I love that I get to stand up on the altar with them as they promise to 'forever.'
I love that for my newly married friends, I get to glean wisdom from them as they share joys and lessons learned. I love watching as their lives become one and their dreams and passions merge into one.
I love that I get to check up on my friends that are having kids and get to touch their pregnant bellies and talk to their little one. I love watching them become parents and I love seeing the light that comes as that child enters the world. I love holding their precious little one and supporting them on their journey of learning how to change diapers and make a bottle.
It is beautiful.
Relationships, marriage and families are a gift from the Lord. I firmly believe that.
But you know what I also believe? I also believe that singleness is a gift. I believe that there is so much to gain and learn and experience during the single years.
I have not always felt like this, in fact, it is a relatively recent (as of about a year ago) realization. Growing up, marriage was always the ideal. It was always what I strove for. It was my ultimate goal. And I still desire it, deeply.
But it is no longer my end goal.
It is not the only thing I want to do with my life.
I want to travel. I want to disciple and mentor. I want to live in community. I want to counsel. I want to eat lots of cheese. I want to be serving in the church. I want to work with kids. I want to live near my family. I want to grow in the Lord. I want to become fluent in Spanish. I want to spend time overseas. I want to read the Classics. I want to decorate a home. I want to take pictures. I want to plan events. I want to teach. I want to love.
All of these dreams are achievable outside of marriage. I have been learning that one way to use the single years well is to become passionate about something and to pursue that wholeheartedly. Have a purpose. Don't live your life waiting for the perfect macho man. Your life is valuable TODAY, single of married.
When I really started pursiung what I loved was when contentment seemed so much closer. It seemed as though contentment found me when I stopped 'waiting' to get married and instead focused on serving the Lord and others now.
I love that the Lord does not use us in only one stage of life. He uses us in each stage. And looking back, I am glad that I am not married during this season. I get to do some things that would look a lot differently or would be pretty difficult to do as a married person. I get to live with 22 other girls and do life with them everyday. That is pretty unique. I can travel as it fits in my schedule and budget. I get to spend all of my time investing in friends and family.
Indeed, singleness is a gift. And I am oh, so grateful that the Lord was patient enough to teach me that. As Christians, we are called to have a high view of singleness, as Paul does, in 1 Corinthians 7.
So lets love and honor marriage for the gift and blessing that it is. But lets not idolize it. Lets not make it the 'be all, end all' of our lives.
Because the Lord is big enough to use us no matter what our relationship status.
There is a campus wide joke that goes around- "Ring by Spring." And everyone "gasps" when you graduate and aren't in a serious relationship or engaged. Its mostly good fun, but there is also some truth to the sly statements that make their way into conversation.
This is the time of life when people my age are dating seriously, getting engaged and married and even starting families. I have friends my age who are all of those stages.
And I love it. I love that I get to journey with my friends who are in relationships. I get to hear about the ups and downs. I get to hear about the things they love about their special someone. I get to listen as they tell me about dates and qualities that they admire.
I love that I get to go bridesmaids dress shopping with my girlfriends that are engaged. I love that I get to brainstorm and help dream up ideas and color schemes and the perfect day for my good friends. I love that I get to stand up on the altar with them as they promise to 'forever.'
I love that for my newly married friends, I get to glean wisdom from them as they share joys and lessons learned. I love watching as their lives become one and their dreams and passions merge into one.
I love that I get to check up on my friends that are having kids and get to touch their pregnant bellies and talk to their little one. I love watching them become parents and I love seeing the light that comes as that child enters the world. I love holding their precious little one and supporting them on their journey of learning how to change diapers and make a bottle.
It is beautiful.
Relationships, marriage and families are a gift from the Lord. I firmly believe that.
But you know what I also believe? I also believe that singleness is a gift. I believe that there is so much to gain and learn and experience during the single years.
I have not always felt like this, in fact, it is a relatively recent (as of about a year ago) realization. Growing up, marriage was always the ideal. It was always what I strove for. It was my ultimate goal. And I still desire it, deeply.
But it is no longer my end goal.
It is not the only thing I want to do with my life.
I want to travel. I want to disciple and mentor. I want to live in community. I want to counsel. I want to eat lots of cheese. I want to be serving in the church. I want to work with kids. I want to live near my family. I want to grow in the Lord. I want to become fluent in Spanish. I want to spend time overseas. I want to read the Classics. I want to decorate a home. I want to take pictures. I want to plan events. I want to teach. I want to love.
All of these dreams are achievable outside of marriage. I have been learning that one way to use the single years well is to become passionate about something and to pursue that wholeheartedly. Have a purpose. Don't live your life waiting for the perfect macho man. Your life is valuable TODAY, single of married.
When I really started pursiung what I loved was when contentment seemed so much closer. It seemed as though contentment found me when I stopped 'waiting' to get married and instead focused on serving the Lord and others now.
I love that the Lord does not use us in only one stage of life. He uses us in each stage. And looking back, I am glad that I am not married during this season. I get to do some things that would look a lot differently or would be pretty difficult to do as a married person. I get to live with 22 other girls and do life with them everyday. That is pretty unique. I can travel as it fits in my schedule and budget. I get to spend all of my time investing in friends and family.
Indeed, singleness is a gift. And I am oh, so grateful that the Lord was patient enough to teach me that. As Christians, we are called to have a high view of singleness, as Paul does, in 1 Corinthians 7.
So lets love and honor marriage for the gift and blessing that it is. But lets not idolize it. Lets not make it the 'be all, end all' of our lives.
Friday, November 28, 2014
The Fear of Grief
"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear". -C.S. Lewis (A Grief Observed)
I am no stranger to fear. Anxiety has made a nest inside my heart for as long as I can remember. Even so, grief has a way of exponentially increasing that. A supposed firm and stable foundation is now shaken. What had always been is no more and that sense of security is gone.
Grief is scary. In my most honest and hardest moments, I can admit that I am terrified. Grief does not abide by a schedule. It does not debrief. It does not warn. It simply invades. It digs up emotions and threatens to undo. Grief today looks different than grief tomorrow. Nothing is certain with grief, it seems. It is a raging monster that is not tamed. And that is frightening.
Questions race through my head:
What if the grief is worse in three months?
What if it affects my ability to do school, Resident Assistant duties, community life?
What if I am not giving myself the proper time and place to grieve?
What if I am stuffing my emotions?
What if I forget her? Her voice? What she taught me?
What if our family never feels 'normal' again?
Will this blaring hole in our hearts always feel so massive?
Grief has some odd side effects that are perhaps unexpected. I forget everything. No joke, I sometimes forget the names of my friends. The names of people I have known for a long time. I forget details.
Also, I feel drained most of the time. I love what I do. But it is so draining to process through grief. To talk about grief. To explain grief. I need to talk about it. So I do. But it takes so much more energy than is in my tank most of the time. People always say at some point in the conversation, "...enough about me, I want to know about you..." I dread this, because I struggle to put my chaotic and unkempt emotions and thoughts into words. And I hate it. Because, try as I might, I cannot put them into words well. Having a lack of words is frustrating. I am not loud, but I seldom lack the words to express myself. This is one of those times that words simply do not do justice to what is in my heart.
Right now especially, a break from thinking about, processing or talking about grief is refreshing. And yet, being asked about it gives a permission to share my story. Both permission to speak, and permission not to speak are needed. My roommate is a champ at this. She is heaven sent.
So I leave with many more questions than answers. Not having resolved much of anything, but simply knowing that perhaps leaving with questions is what spurs conversation and community. And maybe questions and unfinished thoughts are alright. Maybe fear and processing is a crucial part of the journey.
Maybe we're not meant to be finished yet...
I am no stranger to fear. Anxiety has made a nest inside my heart for as long as I can remember. Even so, grief has a way of exponentially increasing that. A supposed firm and stable foundation is now shaken. What had always been is no more and that sense of security is gone.
Grief is scary. In my most honest and hardest moments, I can admit that I am terrified. Grief does not abide by a schedule. It does not debrief. It does not warn. It simply invades. It digs up emotions and threatens to undo. Grief today looks different than grief tomorrow. Nothing is certain with grief, it seems. It is a raging monster that is not tamed. And that is frightening.
Questions race through my head:
What if the grief is worse in three months?
What if it affects my ability to do school, Resident Assistant duties, community life?
What if I am not giving myself the proper time and place to grieve?
What if I am stuffing my emotions?
What if I forget her? Her voice? What she taught me?
What if our family never feels 'normal' again?
Will this blaring hole in our hearts always feel so massive?
Grief has some odd side effects that are perhaps unexpected. I forget everything. No joke, I sometimes forget the names of my friends. The names of people I have known for a long time. I forget details.
Also, I feel drained most of the time. I love what I do. But it is so draining to process through grief. To talk about grief. To explain grief. I need to talk about it. So I do. But it takes so much more energy than is in my tank most of the time. People always say at some point in the conversation, "...enough about me, I want to know about you..." I dread this, because I struggle to put my chaotic and unkempt emotions and thoughts into words. And I hate it. Because, try as I might, I cannot put them into words well. Having a lack of words is frustrating. I am not loud, but I seldom lack the words to express myself. This is one of those times that words simply do not do justice to what is in my heart.
Right now especially, a break from thinking about, processing or talking about grief is refreshing. And yet, being asked about it gives a permission to share my story. Both permission to speak, and permission not to speak are needed. My roommate is a champ at this. She is heaven sent.
So I leave with many more questions than answers. Not having resolved much of anything, but simply knowing that perhaps leaving with questions is what spurs conversation and community. And maybe questions and unfinished thoughts are alright. Maybe fear and processing is a crucial part of the journey.
Maybe we're not meant to be finished yet...
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Control.
I've had this tab open on and off for three days now.
The desire to share is present, but the ability to put it into words escapes me...
Perhaps my ramblings will make sense to some wandering soul.
This week has been rough.
Realizing my own tendency of allowing fear to boss me around was a punch in the gut.
Realizing (once again) the fact that I am a needy and desperate soul, clinging to my Savior brought me to my knees in humility.
Emotionally drained. Mentally tired. Physically exhausted.
I long for control. When I think about how much I do that stems from the desire to be in control, I am astonished.
And that is part of what makes loss so difficult-- our sense of control is shattered. And we quickly realize that we had much less control than we convinced ourselves of.
Control gives me a sense of security-- false security, that is. It makes me think that I can live in comfort and I can know what is coming. And that makes me feel safe.
I like feeling safe.
I like comfortable.
I like security.
I am not a risk taker. I am not an adrenaline junkie. I prefer and am perfectly content in my comfortable and familiar surroundings.
But comfort and safety was never my lot. It was never our lot. We are not promised comfort, this side of heaven.
Perhaps my intense desire for control stems from a lie. The lie that I somehow know what I need better than the One who created me. The lie that He isn't good. The lie that perhaps I will have to walk this journey alone. Its self preservation. And it keeps me from walking out on that limb called 'faith' and allowing Him to change my scared and stubborn heart.
As I have recently started walking this journey my Father has whispered to my heart-- 'Hannah, do you trust me? Do you know, even in the midst of hardship, that my heart is good? Rest, be at peace, my child, you are in my arms of love. I will not forsake you.'
And I rest a little more. Remembering His great faithfulness.
From the prophet Isaiah: "You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you. Because he trusts in you." (26:3)
The desire to share is present, but the ability to put it into words escapes me...
Perhaps my ramblings will make sense to some wandering soul.
This week has been rough.
Realizing my own tendency of allowing fear to boss me around was a punch in the gut.
Realizing (once again) the fact that I am a needy and desperate soul, clinging to my Savior brought me to my knees in humility.
Emotionally drained. Mentally tired. Physically exhausted.
I long for control. When I think about how much I do that stems from the desire to be in control, I am astonished.
And that is part of what makes loss so difficult-- our sense of control is shattered. And we quickly realize that we had much less control than we convinced ourselves of.
Control gives me a sense of security-- false security, that is. It makes me think that I can live in comfort and I can know what is coming. And that makes me feel safe.
I like feeling safe.
I like comfortable.
I like security.
I am not a risk taker. I am not an adrenaline junkie. I prefer and am perfectly content in my comfortable and familiar surroundings.
But comfort and safety was never my lot. It was never our lot. We are not promised comfort, this side of heaven.
Perhaps my intense desire for control stems from a lie. The lie that I somehow know what I need better than the One who created me. The lie that He isn't good. The lie that perhaps I will have to walk this journey alone. Its self preservation. And it keeps me from walking out on that limb called 'faith' and allowing Him to change my scared and stubborn heart.
As I have recently started walking this journey my Father has whispered to my heart-- 'Hannah, do you trust me? Do you know, even in the midst of hardship, that my heart is good? Rest, be at peace, my child, you are in my arms of love. I will not forsake you.'
And I rest a little more. Remembering His great faithfulness.
From the prophet Isaiah: "You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you. Because he trusts in you." (26:3)
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