Broken, but still useful

The day started out so well.  I was up early, the kids were ready, we got to church on time with all my responsibilities fulfilled or planned out.  It was a really great morning, and I connected well with those I was teaching and reaching out to.  I was fully engaged and loving discipling and being discipled.  And somewhere in the middle of all of that, the off-hand comment came.  My brain chewed it up, spit it out, and before I knew it, there it was.  I was discouraged.

In retrospect, I probably put two and two together to get five.   But at the time, it seemed to be the most logical conclusion.   A few more disappointments, missed communications, messages not received that afternoon, and my discouragement blossomed.  I snapped at my family.   Suddenly, unintentionally, I was reverting to a little child again, feeling helpless and deeply hurt.   The dragons of my past were eating me alive again.   It isn't the first time.   The fact is that almost every time I step up to speak in front of more that 2 people, almost every time I venture into some new area of ministry, my heart races like a herd of mustangs in front of a starving lion.  Sometimes it blossoms into a full-blown panic.  I've been known to throw up from sheer nerves.  I remembered all of that, and  I said to my husband through my tears, "Maybe I'm just too wounded and broken to ever be really useful to God."

Immediately, he reached for his Bible purposefully, pulled out a note card, and read:   "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.'  So I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.  Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong."  (2 Cor 12:9-10, NRSV)

Those words hit me like a powerful wave of understanding and love.  My tears turned into a flood. Almighty God had looked down from his heaven, and noticed.

I may never get over all that junk.  But I will get through it.  I have to.  The Creator of the Universe knows and understands my hurts, my wounds, and my undying desperate need to find meaning and purpose from it all.   I have been called.   It's what I was made for.   I can't deny it, and I won't run and hide from it.  So if you ever see me doing my thing, looking calm and confident like it is just another day in the ministry, you can know that it's just a front.  I'm all Jello inside.  Apparently, God can use that. 

I think he might be able to use you, too.

Overcoming..

So what do you do when you're feeling down?   The cause, legit though it may be, does not really matter.  Ultimately, there will be a day when it is my choice to wallow in self-pity or to get up and get on with life.  Yes, there is trauma.  Yes, there is grief.  They are painful, and the work of healing is sometimes grueling.  I'm not talking about that.  I'm talking about what to do when the sadness is an obviously passing thing -- a temporary condition to be endured, a bump in the road.

My temptation is often to do nothing.  I heave a sigh, and sit, thinking stupidly that if I wait long enough, I'll feel better.  WRONG.  Watching a mindless TV show or movie doesn't really help.  Ultimately, I'm going to have to haul my butt somewhere and DO something in order for me to feel better about life.

I love this quote from George Bernard Shaw:

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. 

Here's another great one from Eleanor Roosevelt:

You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.  You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror.  I can take the next thing that comes along.'  You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

The apostle Paul gave some similar advice to his young protege, Timothy:  "For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline."   2 Tim 1:7.   Good words for someone who steps out on faith only with much trembling and trepidation.   Good words for me.   I need to remember that fear and timidity don't come from God.  Power, love and self-discipline come from God.   Lord, give me more of that!

Absence and the heart....

Sending a daughter off to college is rough on a mom.  I was weepy for a couple of weeks beforehand.  Then came the big day, and we drove her down with all of her stuff, and left her there to fend for herself.  I knew she'd been doing that for awhile, really.  But now she was doing it 90 miles away.   The surprising part was when the tears came.  I didn't fall completely to pieces when we left -- just minimal boo-hooing.   But I cried when I got home and her truck wasn't in the driveway, and I cried in the grocery store when I saw some of her favorite things, like Vanilla Soy milk and tofu.  

All in all, I wasn't too worried about her.  She knew what she needed to do, and I was certain that she had enough support to do it.  She is really a very courageous young lady.   I just miss her to pieces!  

I don't believe that absence makes the heart grow fonder.   I do believe that absence reveals the love that was there all along.   And that just might make it bearable.