Healing and Identity

 Test My Anxious Thoughts

Overwhelming anxiety and guilt have plagued me in the last few weeks. Anxiety and guilt are ridiculously ambiguous nouns. They explain nothing of the experience. Waking up in sweats consumed with impending doom, spiraling thoughts, and feeling hunted by something unseen. I can’t concentrate on any given task, I can’t comprehend more than two-three sentences after reading and rereading, I crave distraction, and pockets of thinking time that I usually desire are excruciating. Worst of all, I can hear nothing in the dialogue that I attempt with God. Silence filled with my own imagination running wild and dangerous. 

Neck-deep in pain, grief…fighting… although nothing is happening. The trauma has been long over. But in this moment, truth is not overcoming the why’s. The unidentifiable event or phrase that propelled me backwards, takes over instead. 

I have heard these emotional alarm bells referred to as a…

” temperature check, litmus test, or check engine light.”

Regardless of what you call it…the soul, my soul needs attention. The enemy desires to keep me striving, and distract myself into oblivion. If he can’t have my soul, he will be satisfied with tormenting my soul to the point of unbelief. 

 “Didn’t Jesus do this to you, Didn’t he cause this trauma? this heartache? The course of events that changed everything?

Then whispers… “Did he harm you or save your life, give you life, make this life ripe for fruitfulness?”

“Still, from where we sit, even on this side of the Cross, where death gives way to life, sometimes what God has done for us can feel, instead, like something He has done to us.”
― Beth Moore, Chasing Vines: Finding Your Way to an Immensely Fruitful Life

I succumb to distraction. I recognize anxiety bleeding into all the areas of my life. In an effort that feels like trying to maneuver through quicksand, I choose to pray, and pray some more, journal, and read the Bible, and listen to truth. I remember what God has done before. I remember how he has met me here over and over. 

Diagnosing the Blinking Light

Before these anxious replays, I had started praying about my identity in Christ. In the last year, I felt my identity had been obliterated. I could no longer feel significance and worth in accomplishment. In a lesson on Sunday, I asked myself… “in my entire life, has Christ accomplished anything through me?” My initial thought being…nope, nada, nothing.

Then after days of silence... I heard “these symptoms, they are not who you are, they are revealing something, are you ready to go deeper?” 

No, I am not. I am afraid of touching  this area, and especially allowing you, Jesus, to touch this area, then that tells me there is still healing to be done, and I know what healing entails. The pain could engulf me. I may not recover. I have to be strong. I have to be brave. I have four daughters to raise, and they need to see an overcomer. Julie, are you white-knuckling through life again?

You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you. 2 Chronicles 20:17

Supplanting 

I am currently reading a book educating me on the painful fruit bearing process of grapes, and “supplanting” was a word that was causing me great discomfort. 

I had to look it up to make sure I understood what was being asked of me. 

Supplanting is replacing or filling of a space once occupied by something lost, destroyed, or no longer usable or adequate. 

This needs to be a season of excavating from my most recent trauma, in order to replace my triggers and anxiety with an all powerful God and the truth about what He says about the trauma and about me.

Maybe, I am up for that?  My Savior has met me here before. 

Invited to a Healing Process

Backtrack two years ago, I began a book Fully Alive, naively volunteering for a spiritual healing process.

I thought our family was being called to the mission field, and God wanted to use this book to provide healing for past wounds to help prepare me for the journey ahead. 

Ouch! That is still painful to admit almost two years later. The arrogance, the audacity, and the pure blindedness and ignorance of my reality knots my stomach.  

Just a few short months later, everything unraveled. Our family was broken apart by an addiction and the mountain of anger and lies that follows it. The "monster under the bed" that I wanted to believe did not still exist.

Susie’s story in Fully Alive, the verses and biblical promises that she clung to, and the gut punch questions stirred a desire and realization that clinging to Jesus was the only way. I was persuaded to long for a miracle, but to also realize the miracle of redemption and relationship is still a miracle. God did prepare me for a journey, but not on the mission field. I could not anticipate it, and I would have declined, had he asked me. 

Susie starts with:

“In the Gospel of John, Jesus asked a man who’d been sick a long time, “Do you want to be well?”

“We live in a culture that is addicted to treating symptoms. We want just enough help to get us on our way so we can continue to live a life of just enough, good enough, well enough. But at what cost to our souls, our story, and our calling-not to mention the very quality of our lives?”

And, once again, now, God is gently reminding me now, “these symptoms, they are not who you are, they are revealing something, are you ready to go deeper?” 

Fear

We are all plagued by fears from time to time.  Here are a few that have been brought up in discussions:

Fear of the end times

Fear of covid

Fear of cancer

Fear of a financial crisis

Fear of children being harmed or dying

Fear of losing family to outside forces such as natural disaster or bad people in the world

Fear that a spouse will cheat

Fear of a loss of security 

Fear of terrorism

Fear of public speaking

Fear of snakes 

I fear that I will be abandoned and betrayed by those closest to me (those that I believe to be protectors)…bamboozled by the uncovering that what I believed to be true, my faith in another person, is in reality completely false. I have often underreacted to outside threats, because in my experience harm has usually come from someone on the inside, someone “known.”

The death of a child, chronic illness, the loss of security in many different forms…are far worse. I am just underscoring that the thing that keeps me up a night. The thing that people say “most of what you worry about will never come true.” The thing I strive to avoid, the thing in my nightmares, and the thing I try to protect myself from…has occurred multiple times. 

And in November 2018…the same thing that I was trying to stay one step ahead of, outrun, overcome…arrived. I had worked diligently to preserve our family’s reputation as overcomers. I wanted our story of hitting rock bottom, and Jesus saving us from the pit of hell to be the testimony that saved others. I wanted what I was being told to be true.  I could control addiction. I could say the right words. I could follow the advised steps. I could pray enough to persuade Jesus to make it stop.

Think of a person fearing a disease, obsessing over healthy eating or a strict regimen. Then, after doing everything possible to prevent something, experiencing the shock of that very thing showing up on a random test result. 

And in my acknowledgement that self-preservation, white-knuckling, relying on my own strength was not working (sensing a pattern here), I have remembered a book I purchased for an anticipated journey.

This book is not a magic pill. It does nothing more than facilitate the conversation. Ask the hard questions. Gets personal. Digs. 

And the procedure and the process is painful. Yet, over and over pointing back to the Healer and the healing. 

Story

I listen to stories all the time. I enjoy using an app to read Bible stories. I also enjoy podcasts of women’s stories from today. 

In a recent podcast Jamie Ivey affirms, “I want to tell parts of my story, but I want them to leave knowing more about God’s love for me than the details of the story. That you would know some things about me, but way more about God.” 

For me, my most favorite thing ever is to listen to your experiences, and see the intersection of the saving grace and love of Jesus Christ. The truth of the Bible revealing itself through your encounters with Jesus. I hope I can convey that as well in my sharing. I could sit around a table all day in this kind of dialogue. 

References:

https://dontmomalone.com/tag/susie-larson/

https://www.susielarson.com/fully-alive

https://gwensmith.net/graceologie/14/

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/315-jamie-ivey-wants-to-know-the-real-you/id1116000318?i=1000477990976

A Post-Script Example of Healing 

One year ago (this week),  Jesus asking me to bring my resentments to him. I had 15-20 minutes before I had something scheduled. And he asked for my resentments. I literally told him I did not have time for that. But I then obeyed.

And he met me there, healed me there, and allowed beauty to surface out of horrible

memories that I willingly handed over to him. 15 minutes----after years of being in a prison of

fighting to keep them hidden and below the surface. 

BUT just 12 hours later, I felt sucker punched.  God had so lovingly, so wholly, and so fully released me from periodic, tormenting thoughts from the past, and set me on my feet  just to 

pull the rug out from under me. To make me a fool. I questioned him, Is your protection also

false?

Again (and again and again), “His ways are not my ways, and all things do come together for the good of those that love Jesus. (Is 55:8, Rom 8:28) I also realized I am not the only one pleading for restoration.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. Romans 8:22,23

After a good, long temper tantrum of anger and bitterness (two weeks.) He revealed the mercy of his timing. He needed to demonstrate to me his ability to heal, because He knew what was ahead of me. 

He is faithful. I can trust him. It is easier now. Although, I still do not desire the healing process. I do know what is on the other side. It will be worth the cost. 

An Ebenezer House

My dear friend hands me a book. These Strange Ashes by Elisabeth Elliot "Elisabeth's Faith Lessons of Her First Year as a Missionary." When reading that description, I had to chuckle at first. My circumstances are "filthy rags" compared to the noble calling and work of a missionary. It reminded me of a time in 2012 when I was given Jesus Calling by a friend whose spouse was dying of cancer. Again, my losses could not be compared to the loss of life, especially of a life that was lived so evidently for Jesus. However, it did give me an evidence that I was being seen. That something in my story was identifiable with another's story. There is a common thread in suffering, and even more so for those that suffer with a hope.

"Strange Ashes" is a fitting title for the paradoxal space I am in. And the opening of the book states this, "Over forty years have passed since this took place. Nearly every time I have told it and tried to explain what I think God wanted to teach me in it..., someone has asked, 'but why did God let it happen?' Someday they and I will be satisfied with His answer. Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God's story never ends with 'ashes.'

The Immense Weight of Loss and Blessing 

The intensity and unpredictability over the last few years has not left much time for reflection. There is always something left to be done, an overlapping of all the to do's, and the clatter of chatter on the outside of pressing needs, and on the inside of where I am not measuring up. But I receive these pockets of time, reflection, and I become overwhelmed with the magnitude of it all. And a mental pendulum swings from all that is wrong and all that is right.

I stare into the face of this titanic wreckage that addiction has left for me and my family. I can emotionally drown in the sea of loss and grief. This was not my dream. This was not the purpose God intended for me. I am not enough. I never will be enough. And now, My children are being isolated with a woman that is crumbling under it all. I can't shield them from the affects of addiction on our family, and I can't protect them from the obvious affects it has had on me. And it doesn't matter the subject (addiction, financial loss, mental illness, health crisis, unexpected change),  this thought process always leads to the same destination...Why? Why me? Why now? Why are we here again? Why not a miracle?

“To be a follower of the Crucified means, sooner or later, a personal encounter with the Cross. And THE CROSS ALWAYS ENTAILS LOSS.”
– Elisabeth Elliot

The baby steps of sharing my story began. When I felt uncomfortable in my community of what seemed like all "normal families," the same, wise friend who gave me the book challenged me to have a brief explanation of our family circumstances. The regular banter at social functions was difficult for me because I didn't want to overcome "light hearted" conversation with something heavy, but I also wanted to be authentic. That approach opened unexpected doors. It kept conversation moving when needed, but also lead me to people that discovered similarities in our stories. I was seen, but not a spotlight.

God was so good in allowing me to test the waters of truth, community, connection, authenticity, trust, and  humility...because my deep dive into my faith was on the horizon. And when I did take that plunge...I received a fire hose of grace.

 A foreclosure property had been purchased eight months earlier. There were high hopes for the outcome of the house, the outcome of my marriage, and the outcome of our family as we made Georgia our home. When the girls and I moved into the house last month, however, the house seemed a perfect symbol for what the year 2020 was turning out to be.

But then...

A deluge of people showed up at my door (literally.) It started with my campground community...and you travelers know there is no community like a campground community. The campground that became my refuge as I experienced the twist and turns of His plans. I joke that this landing pad became the location God chose for my spiritual whiplash. But I did not experience it alone. And those forever friends walked right alongside me into a home that required the sacrifice of their time, and their energy, and their finances. And, I even got to make a new forever friend that my children and I now have cherished memories with.

But it did not stop there, my story was being shared with others in my faith community. And the abundance overflowed.  Meals began being delivered to my home. This was the third Sunday that I left church with a bounty of someone else's time and effort. There have not been many days that the girls and I have not had a visitor over the last month, either to take a measurement, drop off a meal, bring furniture, or to offer a construction skill or expertise. And then the events that I will fondly call construction parties...where my house has been full of self-sacrificing, hard working people that came to offer their time, finances, energy, love, skills, and knowledge.

And in those pockets of time of reflection,  I am overcome. And I have to ask Why? Why me? Why now? Why am I blessed again an again? Why such a miracle?

And the weight of it all baffles me. I do not deserve any of it. I didn't do anything to cause addiction to overtake my family. I didn't deserve the suffering that comes from the disease of addiction . I didn't do anything to deserve grace. I didn't do anything to deserve the love and the people and bountiful blessings either. But God is in it all. He is working it all out to complete a great work. A great work that is His design. And, I am left with a bowed head, and a heart being reshaped, and I can only whisper "thy will be done."

A Hope and a Future 

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

When I read the book of Jeremiah and the context of this verse, I despised seeing it on a sticker or casually hung as a house decoration. I would think to myself, does anyone realize what had to happen to the people of Israel before this verse came to fruition. I think I will pass on the prospering, and hope and a glorious future. "Just okay" sounds good enough for me. But now I see this verse in a whole new way. God is still at work. And the prospering, and the protection, and provision, and the hope, and the future are all intertwined in the happenings of before, now, and after. I had to be brought to the end of me. My children had to witness the end of me. And now they get to live in the house that love built. They have a living testimony at a young age that God is their provider. And in this paradoxal, upside down, "every day is opposite day" journey of faith, they have an eye-witness account that "His ways are not our ways." That just when "it looks like the story is over, it has really just begun."  

The Most Unexpected, Precious Gift 

Acts 4:32 All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. 

If I were writing on paper, you would see the tear drops smudging the ink. I did not receive the miracle that I so desperately desired for my family. I will continue to pray for it. But I did receive a miracle in each and every one of you. The overflowing, overwhelming, abundant gift of connection. 

This is the house that love built. The memories that are being made here, were not what I thought they would be. But I can walk through every room of my home, and recall people, conversations,  funny mishaps, struggles, triumphs, Jesus.  

I was embarrassed, grieved, and in need, and honestly completely dumbfounded by the immense construction work that needed to be done. You wrote me a check, handed over a credit card, brought me food, loved on my children, hauled in donations, poured sweat into my home, taught me, worked when I couldn't, and worked alongside me encouraging me. And we had great conversations, and I got to know you, and heard your stories, and you listened to mine. And my grief lifted, and I was no longer embarrassed, and the differences in our family, socioeconomic, social, or age dynamics did not matter. You are now my friend. And I cannot wait to work alongside you again as Jesus calls us accordingly. 

But these strange ashes, Lord, this nothingness,

This baffling sense of loss?

Son, was the anguish of my stripping less

Upon the torturing cross?

Was I not brought into the dust of death,

A worm and no man, I;

Yea, turned to ashes by the vehement breath

Of fire, on Calvary?

O Son beloved, this is thy heart’s desire:

This, and no other thing

Follows the fall of Consuming Fire

On the burnt offering.

Go on and taste the joy set high, afar –

No joy like that to thee;

See how it lights the way like some great star.

Come now, and follow Me.

– Amy Carmichael

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2020--Where to Begin?

"Did you close on the house yet?" " How is the house project coming along?" "Have you decided on a paint color?" "When do you think you will be in the house?" These well intended questions swirled around me, threatening to swallow me, as I would exhale a satisfactory answer and move on to something else, anything else. Home ownership and a remodeling project should be celebrated and anticipated after traveling for four years in an RV. But just like our dreamlike travels could cover up a multitude of underlying problems, the house project became another place to hide.

1 Corinthians 3:10-15
According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building upon it. Let each one take care how he builds upon it. For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw—each one’s work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.

(The Message Version: Remember, there is only one foundation, the one already laid: Jesus Christ. Take particular care in picking out your building materials. Eventually there is going to be an inspection. If you use cheap or inferior materials, you’ll be found out. The inspection will be thorough and rigorous. You won’t get by with a thing. If your work passes inspection, fine; if it doesn’t, your part of the building will be torn out and started over. But you won’t be torn out; you’ll survive—but just barely.) 

Once it became clear that Georgia was to become home, God opened the door to an unlikely house purchase. One that I do not understand.It feels crazy and uncertain. This dormant, desolate, and neglected home must be a metaphor for our much needed heart transformation. The foundation and solid structure of the house is the main attraction. The old, the damaged, and the things that do not make sense have to be removed.  The new construction that is completed on top of the foundation will be tested, and I what will manifest remains unknown.

I avoided the time that I knew it would take for me to write this. In effect, avoiding my heart.  Writing does not only expose myself in blog form, it also exposes me to me. And that is by far the most difficult. The name of this blog is Living Out of Bounds. That is what we thought we were doing when we sold everything, moved into an RV, and began raising our family on the road. There is a freedom in travel, but there is also a fleeing. You begin to believe that changing the circumstances, the conditions, and the environment will result in changing yourself. Turns out the year of remaining  stationary has revealed that standing still can also be transforming.

There are still places that we are bound. Addiction, old habits, and brokeness have plagued our family before. And it is too familiar, too known, too memorably painful, for me to have any desire to participate in it now. But the story is unfolding whether I get up and face each day, whether I pull the covers over my head, or fight in every way to make it not my story. And I have been lovingly directed to my own recovery, my own depravity, and my own need for grace. The journey has not gotten easier. And today, recovery, forgiveness, and grace, are still a struggle.

If I look at my blog posts from the beginning of 2019, I was excited and anticipating a 12 Step Program, examining my own heart, and going deeper with my Savior. I was not prepared for periods of despair, hopelessness, and woundedness that would take place in the process. It takes courage to jump on a spiritual rollercoaster, dive deep to look at problems head on, and fight hard for healing. But when crossroads appear, and it feels like you are alone in a sea of "normal" people, and four littles are a witness to every high and low, it is very tempting to quit, and put the smiling faces on Facebook and slap the mask back on, and replace truth with comfort.

This post has been the hardest to construct. It has been running through my mind. But I have been avoiding putting written words to my thoughts. I have recently misplaced my journal. I have rebelled against starting a new one. That journal became a huge part of me, and something about opening a new book with blank space has me hesitant. And today, that is where I find myself...hesitant, cautious, apprehensive. I am not sure that is an ideal stance for the coming year, but it is where I currently reside. And, I do believe honesty is a great place to begin a new year.

A fellow blogger, and friend, introduced me to the phrase "vulnerability hangover." And I am caught in between wanting to avoid any hint of exposure and fully diving into it. I long for authenticity. But with authenticity also comes the desire to belong. I don't know if I believe that outside of my relationship with Jesus Christ, that authenticity and belonging can occur. I have heard it phrased as "the human condition has a longing to be known and loved." (not sure who to credit with that quote)

 In a recovery program, I am challenged to examine my motives. So I naturally had to question my own motive for writing and sharing.  I have discovered that my calling is to write. I am not sure if that means books, or blogs, or my own personal journal. But my connection to my soul flows in writing. I am able to be most known, through writing. I am able to understand myself and my God through writing. There are many, many words of realness and openness about how I feel about myself and others. Words and descriptions that would never come out of my mouth. My mind and my heart function best as I write. My prayers are lamented through the written word, and my heart is healed as I write.

But sharing what I write, comes from my best discovery over the past year. People come out of their own self-protective shell, when they see someone delicately removing their own mask. Conversations have taken a complete turn from small talk to those tender places, when I start to uncover myself. I stumble across the right words to express myself, and how far to go, and how much digging I should do to understand others and how to relate. It is messy, and worth it, and I will keep those conversations going.

But there is a freedom in writing that helps my soul to express what I can't accomplish in my spoken words. For one thing, I am a quick thinker and quick talker. I know time is limited and I am watching the clock and just as hurried as the next person. I try to get the most amount said in the least amount of words. I slow down for written words, I chew on and consider written words. I believe written words. My written words are my truth. My spoken words come out at the same time that I am thinking, and those two processes occurring simultaneously, do not always end in me speaking for myself well.

This past year, I have been challenged with these questions:
Am I willing to fail for God?
Does radical grace work?
Can I wash Judas' feet?
Do I believe in resurrection today?

(Side note: It is killing me to write this purely from memory, and not have my journal to review for verses and specifics in real time.)

Each of these questions could have easily been answered with an emphatic no. I would have felt fine being a Christian woman, saved by grace, and answering these questions with a no. This year though has been a relentless invitation to change my heart,  and now I answer with a resounding yes.

2 Peter 1: 5-9 For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self control, and self control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these are qualities of yours and INCREASING, they keep you from being INEFFECTIVE or UNFRUITFUL in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. 


Yes, this year almost never went the way it was supposed to go. To the outside eye, 2019 could seem like a huge failure. And, I can easily let my heart reside in the failures. But Jesus loves me too much to let me sit there. The truth is...Yes,  I can follow Jesus' direction without any change in my circumstances. And it is worth it.

Yes, radical grace works. Did it do what I had hoped? No.  But by offering grace, I was transformed. And, I have no idea the generational impact of believing in radical grace. Radical grace does not mean becoming a doormat, or being gullible. It is an act of obedience that requires looking within rather than being controlled by the unpredictable chaos of life. It gives opportunities to someone else to step into grace. And frees me from their decision to accept it or not. My chains are broken through radical grace.

I fought hard against betrayal. I fought hard against letting someone in that had repeatedly lied and mislead me. I wholeheartedly believed that I could protect myself and my family by reverting back to previous attitudes , what seemed logical, and my version of justice. But I could not deny Jesus. I could not deny His word. And I could not deny what he had personally asked me to do. I received a treasure in return. I was given a gift.  I am not sure I will ever understand the true magnitude of it all on this side of heaven.


Philippians 3 9-10..and be found in Him, not having righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection..

There is resurrection . I thought resurrection would mean restoration in my most treasured relationship. I thought resurrection would mean healing for my husband and my marriage. There was healing in unexpected places in unexpected ways. That is the undeniable truth. 2020 is the year that I will look for resurrection continually in my own soul, in my own broken places, in the impossible.


Philippians 3:12-13
...but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me His own. Brothers (and sisters and daughters), I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining for forward to what lies ahead