The things that need healing...

It's Saturday. My Sabbath. The only day I have completely free. And if I'm being completely honest, I'm in tears.

My to do list runs the length of my arm. My apartment is decimated from neglect- every single room needs care. I need to grocery shop and cook. I need to pick up prescriptions from two different pharmacies because apparently, its a big deal that the pharmacy 20 minutes away from me actually filled my prescription for an Epi-Pen. I need to finish prepping one thing and start something else. And I feel awful. I've felt awful for a week, but I mostly ignore it- everyone has allergies, right? 

For the most part, right...except most people don't have Mast Cell Activation Syndrome and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome Hypermobility. Most people don't always carry Benadryl and Zantac and pop them like candy some days just to get by. Most people don't lose their mind when they realize their inhaler is empty because they realize that could mean a trip to the Emergency Room if they don't carry it. Most people don't wonder if, when they eat, a food they've eaten regularly is suddenly going to make them stop breathing because their suddenly allergic. Most people don't see their doctors at 2pm on a Saturday. Most people don't roll their ankles just walking down the street, or tweak their back just moving from sitting to standing. Except I do all those things. I guess I'm not most people. 

I'm melting down because, yeah, I'm sick. And you'd never know it most days, especially not if you've been following me on social media the past two weeks, seeing me post thing after thing. You won't even know if you ask me how I am, because I won't bother to tell you I am in pain all the time, or that I only slept two hours the night before because sleep apnea and Ehlers-Danlos seriously mess with my sleep patterns, or that I've spent a third of the week being nauseous constantly, or that I just took my inhaler because my body just had a random allergic reaction to air. Instead I'll answer, "Busy" or "Okay". If it's a really bad week I'll say, "I'm still here," without elaborating. 

I'm in tears because I don't want to be sick, but I am. I hate that it makes me different, and I hate that it makes me feel weak, and I hate how much I fake being well. I hate rolled ankles, neck pain, brain fog, nebulizer treatments, the days when I am anxious and I don't completely understand why, and having to eat differently than everyone else. I hate being sick and capitulating to that reality. But it is my reality. 

And in sitting with that reality, the reality that I am sick,  that I realized something kind of profound. I cannot be healed until I am willing to admit that I am in need of healing. As I mentioned in my last blog post, in the quiet moments I sometimes hear the question, "Do you want to be made well?" I thought this one was simply a yes or no kind of question, and I thought my answer was "Yes". But before I could even answer the question, I needed to be able to admit that I am not well. It's only if I admit that I am sick that I can be made well. And I didn't really reach that place until today. 

So although there were tears today, there is also hope.Today I can say I want to be made well. 

Please Stay on the Path: Thoughts on Healing

A few days ago, in my daily Scripture reading I found myself re-reading the story of the woman with the issue of blood in Luke 8:42-48. I've read the story a number of times, I've heard sermons, read devotions, and at one point in grad school, I even did a narrative piece in my Storytelling class about it. But the thing about Scripture, actually one of the things I love most about Scripture, is that it's always new, and this time, as I read it, I noticed two things:

1. The woman in the story wanted to be healed so much that she pursued Jesus and was willing to take a massive risk just to touch Him.

2. It mattered, she mattered to Jesus. He stops everything to acknowledge her.

In the last 8-9 months this story has come to mind often. I'm healing- physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually from a host of ailments it would take me awhile to explain. And there are moments when my mind is wandering, as it often does, and this story comes to mind, often accompanied by the gentle but deeply probing question, "Do you want to be made well?"

The question, which I believe is one the Lord is posing to me in those moments, comes from a different story of healing in Scripture, this one found in John 5:1-5. In the story, Jesus asks an invalid of 38 years, "Do you want to get well?" before He heals him.

An unexpected message on my Sabbath walk at the New York
Botanical Garden

Jesus asks me the same question, gently, but too persistently to ignore. Do I want to be healed? How much of who I believe I am is tied up in my scars or illness or gaping wounds? What does it look like for me to be whole and what changes if I am? Who am I really if I am whole and safe and loved?

Recently, walking on a trail at the New York Botanical Garden, I came across a sign. It said, "Please Stay on the Path. This is a fragile ecosystem. Please help protect it by staying on the path." It made me laugh, and I chuckled as I snapped a picture an instagrammed my thoughts. It made me chuckle because I heard God's voice gently asking me to stick with healing, and He asked in a way that thoroughly demonstrated how well He knows me. My week had been a mess, and I felt raw. But in my messy, broken, still healing state I was seen by God and gently, lovingly pursued. This ecosystem is indeed fragile, and while He tends it, my job is to stay on the path. 

There's no after story in Scripture for the woman with the issue of blood. Unlike House Hunters Renovations there is no follow-up showing her life after the renovation of healing. What happened once she was restored to community? Was it happy home and hearth for her, or did she find herself started on a longer journey of rebuilding everything she had lost in twelve years? I'm left with all kinds of questions. But it doesn't make me doubt that I want His healing. The same healing He offered her, and many others in Scripture. 

Healing for me is this messy but wonderful journey of joy, fear, pain, sadness, hope, unlearning, and re-learning. Yes, I want to be made well. Yes, I want to risk it all to touch the hem of His garment. Yes, I want to breathe deeply and run with ease. Yes, I want to be known and loved. And so I stay on the path. 

On Community

The other night, in a moment of exhausted irritation and self indulgent rage, I shot off a passionate, but incredibly verbose ranting email to a dear friend. What caused such ire and sheer volume of language? The ever so popular, evangelical Christian phrase, "doing life together".

In my frustration, I wrote: "Christians should be banned from using the phrase, 'doing life together'. At least 95%of people who use that phrase see each other once during the week and on Sundays. And they Instagram each other. Or post on Facebook...and we all know Facebook isn't real life.

I want to say to them: "You know what it actually means to do life together? Being there, often. Conflict, which feels messy. Holding puking heads over the toilet and occasional ER visits. A lot of laughing. Silly conversations that mean laughing...and that sometimes lead to conflict. Vulnerability. Letting others see the messy bits of life- the dishes in the sink, laundry piled in the corner, mascara streaming down the face with tears, the "I hurt like heck and I can't articulate why but I need you to sit here and shut up until I can" moments, the "you can come over for dinner but I'm totally having cereal" offers, the days in which God seems angry and distant and trite answers feel like a band aid and you realize the person you love has their artery severed and a trite band aid isn't going to cut it. It's hard conversations and trips to the grocery store and coffee. Doing life together means you may have literally seen their dirty laundry.

And you love them. Because they are who they are. Because you are with them on this crazy journey. Because they helped you see that you're way more normal than you thought...or that other people are just as crazy. Actually doing life together means other people look on and see love. They see God having broken through in the selfishness and pain and cracks and bleeding and falsehood in this world to display something real. That is doing life together. And it's a much bigger commitment than a Bible Study from 7-9 every wed. But So much better too."

Community, real community, the beautiful kind of community, is where you can really truly come as you are. And it happens in the moments when you look at each other and say, "yeah, I want to walk with you" even knowing that that is going to be hard. It is messy, and there is conflict, and sometimes it's not convenient. It requires a commitment. But it is worth it. Every single time, it is worth it.

People are looking for something real. And we show off our real faith while living out shallow relationships. In Acts 2, when people were being saved daily, I don't think it had anything to do with the worship band at the Temple, or because life groups are a good church model. People saw the Spirit of God present in the community of faith- they saw people who met together everyday in the Temple courts, people who ate together and who reveled in one another's company, people who were sacrificing to meet one another's needs, people who were willing to be real, and they responded. They saw love.

The picture of community that I drew is one I have experienced. And it changed me.

Painting a different picture

Recently, I had the opportunity to travel and visit a friend abroad. It was an absolutely amazing trip, one I hope to post about in the near future, and in the moments of rest I had a number of realizations.

While I love traveling, one of the most difficult things for me is that period of adjustment at the beginning of the trip when I am surrounded by unfamiliar sights, sounds, smells, and languages. For the first twenty four hours in Haiti, I felt like I was in a daze, taking it all in and attempting to engage those around me. I have a tendency towards insecurity, and that, coupled with a vulnerability at being in unfamiliar surroundings made my defenses shoot up pretty fast. This wasn't a surprise to me, and I don't think it was a surprise to the friend I was visiting, but what did surprise me is the way I was talking about myself.

My friend J. scolded me a few times about the things I was saying about myself, but at first, her comments flew over me. Finally, one afternoon, even I heard myself. I was not just being negative about myself- some of my comments were downright mean.

I am aware that I have some incredibly negative views of myself- not good enough, not smart enough, doesn't try hard enough, not enough-to name a few. My self-portrait is dark, and angry, and doesn't look pretty. But I didn't realize how dark it was, how angry it was, until that afternoon. Working in customer service, I've been on the receiving end of some amount of verbal abuse and swearing, but believe me, no one has ever said things as cruel as the things I said to myself that day. Is that really who I think I am?

If you asked me, I would tell you that I believe words matter. I would agree with Proverbs 18:21 that the power of life and death is in the tongue. And yet, somehow, this has never applied to the words that I used towards myself. It hasn't limited the callousness of the words I aim only at myself.

So how does this change?

Honestly, what has to change is how I view myself. Somehow, there has to be a movement from how I see myself to how God sees me. And so I asked, how does God see me?

 "God spoke: 'Let us make human beings in our image, make them
        reflecting our nature
    So they can be responsible for the fish in the sea,
        the birds in the air, the cattle,
    And, yes, Earth itself,
        and every animal that moves on the face of Earth.”
    God created human beings;
        he created them godlike,
    Reflecting God’s nature.
        He created them male and female.
    God blessed them:
        “Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take charge!
    Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air,
        for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth.'” Genesis 1:26-28

Who am I? I am made in the image of an eternal God. I, like Adam and Eve, was intentionally created. And I am deeply loved.

 

I may not instantly adjust to this image of myself. But reading those words again today helped me to begin painting a different picture, and it is my prayer that they begin to take root in my mind and heart and change the things I say, especially about myself.

 

 

Relationship Status: Being single and being faithful

If I've had one common theme running through my mind, and through a surprising number of conversations with diverse groups of people recently, it is relationship status- specifically, being single. After I hit twenty-five, it would seem that my relationship status became a widely discussed item, particularly amongst distant family members, or any person that felt like they have an investment in my (future) children. Often the discussion is discouraging and the questions asked are demeaning. Even more important, I find a single relationship status over twenty five, or especially over thirty, has much broader implications on multiple aspects of life than a limited conversation over a holiday dinner ever acknowledges.

 

Christena Cleveland, in a recent blog post entitled, "Social Justice for Single People", eloquently discusses one of the most difficult aspects of being single, stating, "Despite the fact that I’m committed to self-care, one of the challenges I’ve faced as an unmarried person is how to deal with the daily hits of justice work without a spouse with whom I can daily process those hits. I wish there were someone who knew the intimate details of my life story, knew my past and present pain, encouraged my eschatological hope, and was present in my daily life as a support partner." While her particular focus is on having support while being someone daily involved in fighting for social justice, I have found that that sentiment is shared across the board. It is difficult to live as a Christ follower in any context, trying to live out the Gospel in our daily lives, trying to love our neighbor, dealing with a myriad of decisions daily alone. How do I deal with the "daily hits" of life without someone who is daily present to process them, to hug me, and to remind me of the eschatological hope and how it applies, particularly someone who knows the intimate details of my past and present situation?

 

I daily interact with people, but I find that I rarely interact with people who know me, who are familiar with the intimate details of my past and present story, who can help me process both the painful and joyful moments of my day. Few people know the nuances of tone or facial expression that are particular to me, or will know why I overreacted to something seemingly trivial when in fact I was triggered by a painful memory from my past.

 

In some ways, having this deficiency of individuals who know me so well is good for me. It forces me to "use my words" and to choose vulnerability with people in my community when I do have the opportunities to share a bit of my daily life. Being single some days pushes me to the Lord and to my community as I cry out to Him, and I count that as a joy. But that lack of intimacy, that deficiency still exists. I still miss that aspect of being known by another in the here and now.

 

I would be remiss in my discussion on singleness if I failed to mention physical intimacy. Fabienne Harford with The Gospel Coalition, in a recent post, "Sex and the Single Woman", brings to light the struggle of learning to live without physical intimacy as a single, Christ follower, committed to reserving sex for marriage. She says, "There is pain in watching my friends be fed one after another with the thing I hunger for the most. There is pain in facing each morning with the knowledge that today there will be no daily bread for this hunger. There is pain as I sit, feeling as though I am starving to death, and listen to my married friends try to explain that such eating is overrated." That pain, however, does go on to serve a purpose. It is redeemed in moments when, "...that pain has taught me how to hold my infertile friend and cry with her when Mother’s Day rolls around again. That pain has given weight to my words when I explain to a mom with three kids that Friday nights alone on your couch really aren’t as amazing as they sound. The pain of missing out on physical pleasure in this life holds out to us the gift of longing for the next life. Foregoing the earthly shadow by faith because we believe so much in the heavenly reality." Harford reaches for that eschatological hope of the Gospel, that reality that God is trustworthy, even as there is an unfulfilled hunger.

More than sex, as a single woman I miss just being touched. A simple hug or kiss on the cheek, a pat on the back, or a gentle touch on the arm. I can go entire days without receiving any kind of physical touch, and that lack of physical affection is difficult, particularly for one as high touch as I am.

 

Emotional and physical intimacy aside, there are other aspects of having a single status that no one acknowledges or discusses in or out of the Church. For example, in a society built on two income earning families, being a single working professional brings its challenges economically. I am one person trying to pay the bills each month and maintain a household. People often expect that because I do not have children or a spouse I have an abundance financially, instead of considering that it may be a struggle. Certainly the government considers me to be wealthy, offering little to no tax incentives to those without families.  My income does not buy me extravagant vacations,  fancy dinners, or a high rise. It meets my needs with few extras, and while it is a life I am content with, it seems ridiculous that I would have to challenge others preconceived notions on the economic benefits of being single. (In case your wondering, if there are economic benefits to being single, I have not discovered them.)

Another aspect of having a single relationship status rarely acknowledged is the sheer number of decisions that one will have to make alone. Does a single person make these decisions alone, or do they discuss them with others? Is there a mechanism in place to allow for discussion with others inside or outside of the Church?

My desire, even as I consider my status as a single adult woman, is to be faithful to the Lord, and to maintain my commitment to the Church. That status does not alone define me, but it is a part of my perspective. The conversations I've had recently with others and the articles I mentioned indicate that singleness is becoming a part of our dialogue in the Church. Our societal structure may not support it and the evangelical Church may not always reflect it, but those with a single status are a part of both. We need the dialogue to continue. I cannot offer concrete answers on some of things I've brought forward, but I want to continue the conversation that has recently begun.
 

 

 

It's finished...now what's next?

On December 16, 2011 I attended my final grad school class. Hurray! Of course, once people hear that I am finished, the logical question seems to be, "What's next?" 

What's next is....

- Registering my car in the state of New York and changing over my drivers license to become an official resident. 

- Remaining on at Nyack College full time, as I have been for the last five years. 

- Remaining on as an Assistant Pastor at Westchester Chapel Church of the Nazarene. 

- Reading for fun and to learn...but having the privilege of creating my own book list. 

- Being present in my life and with the people in it. I have spent alot of time having the barrier of school preventing time with others, but school is no more. It can't be a distraction or a deterant from being present in the moments good and bad. 

- Continuing to heal physically. It's time for me to focus on my health, making sure I am on a path of healing. 

Things you learn during a power outage

The ever crucial O&R outage map

This past weekend brought a few surprises...including an early snow storm (I've seriously never seen any snow before Halloween, let alone 4-6 inches) and an unexpected power outage. On Saturday afternoon, as I was getting ready to settle in the den to watch a movie and contemplating when the best time to build a fire might be, my roommates and I watched a large branch from  the tree in our front yard crash onto the power lines, effectively demolishing our power, as well as the power for the entire block. 

Power has yet to be restored, but life must continue- I still have work and school each day. So...here's what I've learned so far:

• Scented candles are lovely. But when you light 10 different smells at once because you are trying to see in the dark, it makes the house smell like some strange cross between a flower shop and bakery and causes asthma attacks. Giant packs of unscented votives and white candles in jars are brilliant during a power outage, and are cheaper to boot.
• Candle lit dinners with an intelligent and interesting man while we eat gourmet food- romantic. Candle lit homework, dishes, showers, cleaning, and cooking? Not romantic.
• Be grateful for the little things. Like hot water, a fireplace, and a working stovetop. Or an office that is well lit and warm. Or friends who let you crash at their place for awhile and hangout. Or a job. Or the promise the electric will be restored and the momentary inconveniences will fade away. When I focus on those things, I realize that a. they are not little things and b. that what I am dealing with right now is just not important. 
• Simpler is better. If I can cook a decent meal in one pan with four ingredients, maybe that's a better plan. Streamlining my schedule and dividing up work efficiently is easier than stopping and starting. 
•  Resources are limited. That does not mean God cannot provide. But it means I need to do a better job of respecting and utilizing what He has given me. It means I will waste less, save more, and be a better steward. 
• It's okay for me to be in the situation and not be thrilled with it, but I still need to have enough of a sense of humor to realize eventually, this will be funny. It's not okay that I wake up coughing because its so cold in my house, and that I had to wait to use my nebulizer until I got to a place that had electricity. But it's funny to watch my housemate roast quiche leftovers in foil on an open fire. Or to wash dishes by candlelight. Or to drink melted rocky road ice cream. Those moments make me laugh, and will be fun to remember later on, when the tree falling is just a memory and I am not lighting candles to get ready for work in the morning.