Bigger Picture Moments: In Spite Of Fear

 
My daughter holds my hand tight, skipping along with a smile on her face.  I stare at her, mesmerized. 

It's dark out and all I can see are shadows and unknowns.  My mind is racing with all the what ifs and I can feel panic rising.  I wish I could fast forward time and just step from here to the safety of my bedroom and my husband's arms. 

She is non-stop chattering, retelling stories of her school day, the dance she is learning, the friends she is making, the things that make her laugh, the thoughts that make her wonder.  I remind her to watch where she is walking, because there is ice and darkness and cars to consider.  She holds my hand tighter and smiles again. 

"I love when it's just you and me, mommy."

I smile as I buckle her in, but I'm only half listening.  I'm looking around, wondering what is hidden in the darkness and locking the doors quickly before hurrying down the road that leads us back home. 

I breathe deeply, asking for peace and calm to cover the fears and I listen once more to my daughter's words.  Her stories are full of details and emotion, because she always remembers faces and she feels everything deep and wide just like me. 

But it doesn't bother her.  She doesn't know what it is to be ashamed of the way her heart breaks over every little hurt and the way words stay with her long after they've been forgotten and forgiven.  She simply lives and loves with everything she's got. 

The conversation returns to her dance class and the recital that is drawing near.  I ask her what it's like to wait backstage with a room full of people and if it bothers her that I'm not there.

"Well, I'm always nervous at dance, because I don't really know anybody.  But that's okay."

Her words pierce my heart and I remember the way she danced tonight.  She didn't pay attention to anything or anyone else besides the music and her own body.  The music moved her in a way that took my breath away. 

She may seem shy and even afraid, but she doesn't let it stop her.  She simply does what is hard because she loves to dance. 

I remember what my husband told me just a few days earlier.  "Sometimes you have to do the hard things, even if you're afraid."  

My daughter has figured out what I am still struggling to learn, because I've spent my life running and hiding from fear.  Being brave doesn't mean not being afraid; being brave means being afraid but doing the things you fear in spite of fear. 

So maybe this year is not really about no more fear.  Maybe this year is really about being brave. 

 

Year of No More Fear

(photo credit: AugustenSkye Photography)

Fear is my biggest stronghold.  I'm a world class worrier and I can jump to the worst case scenario in seconds.  It's a constant battle going on in my mind to reign in my thoughts and not allow them to hold me captive day in and day out.

It's exhausting.

I've been on a journey the past few years of facing my fears, going back to memories that have haunted me and allowing God to heal me of the hurt and pain of things I've kept hidden deep in my heart.  But still there was fear.

It always seems to hover there in the shadows, waiting to devour me.

But, here's the thing: fear is a thief and a liar.  It steals my joy and clouds my vision.  Praying and reading my bible more don't always stop the anxiety from eating away at my soul when I can't see past the fear to uncover the lies.

But I'm done with fear.  This is my official break up notice.

Dear fear, you don't own me anymore.  I know the One who holds all my tomorrows.  He's the One who calls me by name, who knows every hair on my head, who knew the days He had planned for me before I even took my first breath.

And I know the end of this story.  He wins.  Every time.

This year, instead of just One Word, I'm putting on truth.  I'm clothing myself in the Words He speaks to my heart and reminding myself that I have not been given a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.

Proverbs 31:25 says "She is clothed with strength and dignity and she laughs without fear of the future."  THIS is the truth I want imprinted on my heart.  Every time I pondered the word He would have me focus on this year, I kept coming back to these Words.

This year is my year of no more fear.  It's a year to be brave, to walk forward without fear of the future.  It's a year to be strong and courageous, to do the things that are hard.

John Piper says that the only way to wage war on fear and win is to "defeat it with hope in the promises of God" because the "presence of hope in the invincible sovereignty of God drives out fear."  

Matthew Henry says it another way: "She enjoys a firmness and constancy of mind, has spirit to bear up under many crosses and disappointments which even the wise and virtuous must expect to meet within this world..." 

So, instead of fighting a battle that's already been won, I'm calling on the name of the Lord who is my strong tower and running to Him.  No matter what tomorrow brings, I will rest in the refuge of the strong tower of my Lord...and I will be okay. 

 

So I Press On

image source

I wake from a deep sleep, shaking with tears and the panic remnants of a dream that seemed far too real.  I can't seem to shake it, no matter how tightly my husband holds me in his arms and whispers truth.  I don't understand why the dreams keep coming and why the images haunt me, no matter how much I remind myself it was just a dream.

I try to whisper into the darkness the Truth reminders He has shown me, but the words don't come.  Where are you, Lord? I wonder, grasping for the tiniest evidence that He is here.  As the storm calms in me, I realize that sometimes His presence isn't so obvious.   

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1)  

I don't always understand why He doesn't simply stop the storm and sometimes I doubt that He's really there, but I keep pressing in, holding onto hope and remembering the ways He has already proven faithful.  Because hope that is anchored in Him never disappoints.

My writing here has been sporadic, but it's not for lack of words and stories to share.  The past year has been full of sifting and storms I wouldn't wish on anyone.  There are stories my fingers ache to put in writing, but too many of these words are meant to just remain here in my heart or on the pages of my own journal.  And sometimes, in the silence, that's where I find Him, waiting and loving, no matter how much of a mess I am and no matter how many times I've failed.

The quiet is also the place where I find rest, remembering His promises and allowing Him to do the work He wants to do in my heart.  In the wave of seasons of plenty and hardship, there are also seasons of sifting and healing.  Sometimes the healing feels an awful lot like sifting, but I need to let Him enter those places if I want to be truly free.

There are strongholds I've known lie in wait underneath the layers of healing unfolded in my previous seasons of healing, but I wasn't ready to unfold the layers and rediscover what was hidden there.  The dreams that shake and haunt me cause me to wonder and pause...because perhaps He brought me to those places for such a time as this, knowing that it was time for me to enter those memories.

"So, I must press on, fleeing the lies and bondage of sin and running swiftly forward to make His promises my own because He has already made me His own." (Phil 3:12)

In Him, there is power and love and self control to overcome...but I don't always live in those promises.  I must press on, fleeing the lies and bondage that hold me captive...and run swiftly forward to Him and all that He has prepared for me already.  It won't be easy...no part of this life lived in pursuit of His calling and purpose for me is ever meant to be easy...but it is always, always worth it.  

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Be Healed

 one of my art therapy/visual prayer projects this week

Fear is my weakness...and weakness feels an awful lot like failure.  It's so easy for my mind to wander and wonder...and before I know it worry settles in like a heavy weight.

The moment I realize the queasiness in my soul stems from fear, I want to run and hide, for shame at the nakedness of my heart exposed.

But then, I see my pride, staring right back at me, pointing its ugly finger.  Even in my weakest moments, God sees me...and He still pursues me relentlessly.

He became for me righteousness, sanctification, and redemption...and every time I run away I push those nails further into His innocent hands.

I fall to my knees, pouring out my heart...and, somehow, instead of feeling the weight of shame and failure, I feel the weight of the chains breaking away as He bathes me in the freedom of His crimson blood shed for me.

And oh, how He loves me, enough to love the filth right out of my heart.

Our pastor preached on worry and my heart was pricked again.  Worry is borrowing trouble, but trusting in Him and laying it all at His feet is embracing grace and peace.

"We spill the ugly to allow Him to heal the wounds - 

replacing bits of us with pieces of Himself." 

- Kris Camealy

The dreams keep coming and worry threatens at every corner of memories I don't want to return to.  But He wants me to go back to those places, not to harm but to heal.

I'm afraid of the hurt and pain that comes with every hidden, forgotten memory, but He is faithful to fill every one of my empty spaces with His all consuming grace and hope and peace.

I take His hand, walking back into those memories, one by one, knowing that He is with me.  He goes before, beside, and behind, hemming me in on all sides.  He will not let me go. 

My heart beats and worry threatens, but I lift my eyes to His face and remember.  I don't have to linger here long...just long enough to give these broken pieces of me to His tender care and breathe in His healing, piece by piece.

"He loves us too much to leave us in our mess. 

He collects our broken shards 

and creates beauty from mere fragments, 

but the process does not come without pain." 

- Kris Camealy

 

Letting Go

We sat in bed, the house quiet except for the gentle breathing of three sleeping children.  My eyes were heavy from another busy day when he whispered a question that caught me wide-eyed with surprise. 

It was a question about my story before our stories became intertwined and I could feel my body tense as I fought the memories that came rushing in.  I didn't want to remember, because it meant remembering the pain and hurt too. 

Still, he pressed on, reminding me that, no matter how painful, it's impossible to ignore such intricate pieces of our story.  I needed to remember, not to relive the past, but to understand more about who I am today. 

Tears spilled in my eyes as I continued to battle my memories and I told him about the days spent curled in the darkest corner of my bedroom closet crying myself to sleep.  As I close my eyes and see myself in those memories, I can almost hear God whispering to me that I need to go back to these places in order to be free. 

Fear is a joy stealer and a peace destroyer.  So much of my life has been shadowed by fears, built up as life bent and broke me.  The only way to be free of those fears is to first find where they began. 

A friend gently asked me recently, as I waded through some of the darkest moments of grief over losing our baby Hope, if perhaps there was a bigger spiritual battle going on.  As much as I wanted to ignore her words, I knew she was right. 

God was asking me to let go and let Him finally break down my strongholds, but I didn't want to listen.  I wanted to be free, but I knew that the process of getting there wouldn't be easy...and that sometimes the journey would be downright terrifying. 

This weekend, I walked through the rubble that remained of my husband's childhood home after a devastating fire.  It was almost unrecognizable, but as my eyes scanned what used to be rooms and walls and memories all I wanted to do was weep. 

Sorting through the rubble of the past is sometimes just as hard.  Often the good memories are hidden beneath the ashes and it hurts to dig through to find them.  

But if you didn't first dig through the ashes, you might miss the photos that lie unharmed beneath or the handmade baby quilt that miraculously survived. 

One Word 2014: Peace

Reading through my One Word post for last year is like reading a summary of my year. It never ceases to amaze me how God uses this One Word to shape my year. He prepared me for what the year held before I even knew what I was up against.  He wrote Hope on my heart and then used it to keep me rooted and grounded in Him no matter what storms threatened to uproot me. 

As I began reflecting on all that was 2013, I dove into an advent study with Good Morning Girls as well as reading through Ann Voskamp's The Greatest Gift.  I was really wrestling with a lot of painful memories and some really hard sifting that is still ongoing.  It didn't surprise me that the word for the first week of advent was Hope...but what did surprise me was the way God used the daily study verses to speak to the deepest places of my heart.

During week 2 of the study, I really came to a breaking point.  I was weighed down by so much fear and before I knew it the anxiety I still struggle with had a firm grip on me.  I wrote about this a little here, but there was so much more to it.  At my weakest moment, I was hit with the first full on panic attack in a long time...and it terrified me.  Because in those moments, all I can see is the dark.  It feels like I'm sinking fast with no way of escape and I'm so very alone. 

But God didn't let me go.  He reached into that darkness and showed me how His light still shines in the darkest places.  I sat in the quiet after the storm had passed and went to the only place I knew would really give me rest: His Word.  I found myself planted in the words of Philippians 4:4-7 and as I continued to read and dig deep into these words, He spoke to my heart in a way that took my breath away.

I was no longer just reading words on a page.  It was like He was speaking them directly to my heart and as I let them soak in, I heard Him whispering the One Word I needed for the new year to come: Peace.  Only His peace can keep my mind and heart steady and secure come what may. As Spurgeon says, "Peace with God keeps the heart rich." 

I began to pray out loud, something I don't do often enough, and as I prayed I wept.  The act of speaking out loud my fears and doubts and struggles physically lifted a deep and heavy burden I'd been carrying for far too long.  Tears of hurt and pain became tears of peace and joy as He began to renew my spirit and comfort my aching heart. 

Spurgeon says, "You can not have peace unless you turn your troubles up.  You have no place in which to pour your troubles except the ear of God."  The longer I hold onto my burdens before I lay them at His feet, the more I lose the peace that is only found in Him. 

Matthew Henry's commentary describes peace as "the comfortable sense of our reconciliation to God and interest in his favour, and the hope of the heavenly blessedness, and enjoyment of God hereafter" and says that "it will keep us from sinning under our troubles, and from sinking under them; keep us calm and sedate, without discomposure of passion, and with inward satisfaction".  When my mind is so easily threatened by anxious thoughts, it's His peace I need most.  It's His peace that promises to guard my mind from whatever troubles would try to besiege and take control. 

So, this year is the year of Peace and, even more so, it's the year of no more fear.  I'm done fighting battles that He's already won.  I need His peace to face another year of unknowns. 

Come what may, I want His peace to cast my troubles far away and to keep my mind and heart deeply rooted and safe in Him.  This year, I'm purposing to run straight away to Him whenever troubles overcome and to daily practice praising Him for all He has already done and continues to do for me.  I want to live the truth of Isaiah 26:3 - "You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you."