July has been one hell of a crazy month, and I'm not even half way through it.
I look at everything my eyes see, my ears hear, and my instant reaction is to run into the furthest corner of the deepest cave, curl up all fetal-like, and cry; hoping that the echoing of my sobs scares away anything that may have followed me in.
The heat of our NC summers already makes me cranky, and pretty much annihilates any patience or tolerance I may have had during the rest of the year. Throw in a couple hot flashes a day (I call them "power surges"), some 95% humidity, and I'm toast...
Put me to bed; we'll try again tomorrow.
This summer, however, has been a bit different. The tests and the challenges this summer seem to be more intense.
I'm trying to remember the last few summers and the lessons experienced in them: lessons in humility, God's provision, trust and faith, and the difference between the two. Looking back, I realize there aren't enough pages in my notebook to describe every single lesson that last sentence entails.
Those lessons, while I was in the midst of them, were consuming; and I thought they'd never end.
I seem to recognize a pattern developing, where before the "lesson" began, I went though a season where it seemed like God answered every one of my whiny, selfish, pathetic, and sometimes angry prayers.
So a few weeks ago, I almost got suspicious when a bunch of my prayers were answered. In big ways. Better than I could have hoped.
I stopped for a minute, kind of cocked my head to the side, and said "wait a minute..."
I wondered what was coming around the corner.
Then my job fell through. It's all good, something better is around the corner...
Enter the month of July. It really hit the fan. A threat to my security; one of the basics of our human needs: Shelter.
The security of my home, my safe place, no longer felt like my own; I had no control over it anymore. Someone else, all of a sudden, was trying to call the shots on my life.
I tried to stay calm. I really did.
The first couple days of July, I think I was in shock, and just ignored the new challenge.
When I realized that ignoring the problem wasn't doing anything, that's when the internal tremor set in: Worry. I might have seemed calm on the outside, but inside I was in a state of constant trembling. Depending on who I talked to, sometimes it snuck out in my voice.
I wasn't seeing results, so I tried to wrestle control out of God's hands.
What?
It's only been 5 days on a 30-day deadline?
OHMYGOD!
We have to do this!
We have to do that!
We have to do SOMETHING!!!
The scariest thing about it was, I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
I was cornered into a tight space, with the walls closing in on me, the ceiling coming down on me, and the floor turning to lava. I couldn't write, I couldn't pray, I couldn't think. Routine out the window, every waking moment went towards fixing this "problem". Still, I was getting nowhere, except more and more confused. Not to mention scatterbrained.
** Thank GOD my girlfriends are the calm type in this situation. None of them made me feel like an idiot, and if I careened too far out of the way, they'd gently guide me back onto the right-minded path. **
Cookie-cutter Christianity wasn't cutting it.
The cutesy, one-liners almost pissed me off, because there wasn't any depth. Like a sympathy card from someone who doesn't know you. There was no solace in the pretty, flowery, almost cartoon-ish sayings..."God will only give you what you can handle."
BULL. The enemy is trying to KILL YOU. Dead, gone, whammo.
I like to rephrase that one when I see it..."God is a blacksmith, and you're a chunk of iron. In order to turn you into a finished product, He's going to have to beat the crap out of you. Hammers, heat, and fire, baby."
See, the second I think I can handle something, two things happen. #1, I'm not relying on God, and #2, that's when I try to take control. Neither of which is what God wants me to do.
Call it what you want... submission, obedience, your walk, living a faithful life, cruciform.
This shit is hard.
Not hard as in 'I can't do it', because obviously, I'm still here.
But hard in the way you decide to do something, and stick with it, no matter what comes out of it.
Basic-training (for your soul) hard.
Looking back in hindsight, you think, "This wasn't so bad", but when you're in the thick of it, you don't know if you can handle another hit, another day.
My husband really came through for me in a big way during this time. When I'd normally bow up and be the b*tch I have the potential of being, he immediately recognized the attack on us, and the damage it was inflicting. He saw me shrink back in shock, instead of the usual reel-me-back-in and quiet my snarling. While I was busy flaking out, he was taking care of business.
I got to the point of pure frustration: I knew I couldn't do anything, I knew who could, and I hadn't asked yet.
My most desperate prayer was this, in probably not so many words:
"Lord, you're the God of the impossible. It's kind of your thing. I really really need you to come though on this one, no matter what it looks like..."
I was imagining all kinds of crazy scenarios; travelling missionaries, pastor and his family moved to a new church in a new town, maybe God was going to move us to South America... (I know, I know... these are not crazy scenarios...but my state of mind while I was thinking of them was a wee bit crazy.)
And through a beautifully chaotic orchestration of perfectly timed events, God came though in a miraculous way. And still is. Over and over and over...
It wasn't overnight, and I'm glad. Because I had to fight the fears, hour by hour. I had to learn how to chase away the demons that plagued my thoughts. And I'm stronger for it now. I had to once again remember to apply first the lessons I learned as a baby in Christ. Like, trusting God. Not worrying. Knowing He knew our needs, and He'd make sure they were met, in accordance with our callings and giftings.
Then I had to really apply some new lessons: Understanding the power behind my words - were they creative or destructive? Was I complaining about what I was seeing, or was I speaking and believing God's promises? And the big one - what is my automatic response to challenges? Could I honestly look another hit in the face and still praise God??
With the help of my gifted mentor and trusted friend, I had my breakdown. I could barely speak.
I don't remember the words she spoke. But I remember the peace she brought forth, by practicing the hospitality that she does so beautifully.
By loving on me the way God made her to.
By reminding me, indirectly, that it's not all about me, but what He's doing.
By giving me a new and positive perspective.
By reminding me that going though this struggle would lead to an answered prayer (and a big one at that. One that puts us in position for the next season of our lives.)
Before I can remember what even happened, I was able to not only see, but understand this struggle enough to vocalize why it was so crippling me so badly, and I could see it from the angles of what God was doing, and what the enemy was trying to stop me from doing.
Once the words poured out of my mouth, a colossal weight lifted. I was able to relax, for the first time in a week and a half. I finally felt the peace again.
I was floating on a raft in the middle of her pool, just elated, resting. I felt the words coming; the weight that was lifted was the dam holding everything back. Creativity, coherent thought, and prayer flooded back.
Along with them came new understanding of ancient concepts, like radical hospitality, and community. The power of creativity that each of us holds, in some form or another. Grace, and patience.
Understanding that can't quite be put into words...
Yet.
