In Everything Give Thanks

Yesterday as I was driving home I was listening to Jan Karon’s book In This Mountain. I’ve read the book a few times before, but needed to be reminded of the sermon Father Tim shares in chapter 19 on 1 Thessalonians 5:18. Here’s a brief excerpt:

“In everything, give thanks… Generally, Christians understand that giving thanks is good and right. Though we don’t do it often enough, it’s easy to have a grateful heart for food and shelter, love and hope, health and peace. But what about the hard stuff, the stuff that darkens your world and wounds you to the quick? … A deeper spiritual truth, I believe, lies in giving thanks… in everything. In loss of all kinds. In illness. In depression. In grief. In failure. And, of course, in health and peace, success and happiness. In everything. There’ll be times when you wonder how you can possibly thank Him for something that turns your life upside down; certainly there will be such times for me. Let us, then, at times like these, give thanks on faith alone… obedient, trusting, hoping, believing… Whether God caused it or permitted it, we can rest assured--there is great good in it.”

So with that reminder yesterday, along with a similar sermon on Psalm 107 this morning, I’m giving thanks for this season of depression in my life, and endeavoring to find the good in it-- strengthening relationships with some friends; new relationships with others in my church family; opportunities to encourage those in similar situations; a job that allows me the time I need for rest and recuperation; reminders of God’s presence in good times and in bad; learning to pray more frequently and faithfully; and most of all a Savior who knows me better than I know myself and loves me more than I can yet imagine.

For a variety of reasons, I’m not inclined to believe that I’ll ever be completely free from depression, one of which is that God has to keep reminding me that I need Him as well as His people. Otherwise I’m quick to become self-reliant. Only when I am weak can His strength show through. I found the following poem by Benjamin Malachi Franklin that my grandmother had copied into the back of a book:

“My life is but a weaving, between my God and me.
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow; and I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper and I the underside.
Not ‘til the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas and reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares; nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those who leave the choice to Him.”

Why me, Lord?

With a title like that you may be expecting a whining complaint, and I’ll admit I’ve had some days like that (okay, a lot). But today’s thought is a bit different-- “Why do You love me, Lord?” I can understand “God is love,” and “God so loved the world,” but “God loves me”? That is a bit harder to grasp. I am quick to tell myself that there is nothing within me that makes me worthy of God’s love. I certainly can’t earn His love. But I think there are a few things I can latch onto.

1. God created me. Sure, the fallen world has messed up this particular creation quite a bit. But God does love His creations. I can understand a little about the pride and joy of creating something, even if it is not perfect at this moment.

2. God decided in advance that I would be His child. He adopted me in spite of the fact that I am often a poor reflection of my Father. He loves me as His child even though I don’t always act like part of His family.

3. God is working on me, in me, and through me. He is conforming me to the image of Jesus, though this is a lifelong process. He has promised to complete that work. His love is transforming my heart and mind slowly but surely. And He has arranged good works for me to do, even though I’m not always sure what I am doing or why.

So God loves me because He created me to be His child and is making me into what He deems best for me. But to complicate matters, God loves me just as I am and not as I should be. In this life I will never be quite what I should be, but God will complete the work in the resurrection.

I still don’t quite understand “why me,” but maybe the question should be “why not me?” I’m not all that different from the many other individuals God has chosen and adopted as His children. We’re all far from perfect and not all that lovable. But as St. Augustine said, “In loving me, You made me lovable.”

God’s ways are not mine, and I am not going to figure out His master plan. Somehow I just have to trust that I am part of that plan and He will make it happen. Even though I don’t understand it, I believe: “Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so.”

 

Who's In Control Here

There are two things I’ve been thinking about for the past week or so, and it turns out they are related.

The first is the idea of relinquishing all authority, decisions, and control—as if returning to childhood, when someone else had all the responsibility for taking care of my needs. (At least that is one example. I have others I can’t share.) While I was wishing that could be the case, God reminded me, “What do you think I am here for?” He is the one who is in control of all things, so why can’t I let Him do His job? One reason is that I’m not quite sure how to let go of the big stuff, much less the small stuff. Heck, I can’t even let go of jobs that other people can or should be doing. I live by the motto, “If you want it done right, do it yourself.” So what can I do to let God be God? I guess the first, and perhaps biggest thing, is to accept His promises on faith. Of course, that assumes that I know what He has promised through His Word. He says He’ll provide, taking care of everything from clothing the lilies to giving us daily bread. He says He is always there, always aware of what is going on, and will never give us more than we can bear. But most of the time I don’t believe that He cares or will provide, and it seems like it’s up to me to get it done.

The second thought is wondering what the future holds and whether it is worth waiting for. As a child, you can’t wait to get old enough to drive, then to graduate from high school. Then maybe you can’t wait to graduate from college and get out in the “real world.” And then you get a job and find out that it doesn’t fulfill all your expectations either, no matter how many different jobs you try. And for some, marriage and family are goals that you can’t wait to reach, then maybe empty nesting and grandkids. But at some point, at least I think this is true for most people, you start asking, “Is this all there is?” Maybe that’s what a midlife crisis is all about. I’ve been wondering whether I’m just biding my time until either something new happens or the end comes (whether through death or the Second Coming of Jesus). Doesn’t God have something better in mind than for me to do my job, collect my paycheck and go home? So with those thoughts in mind I have tried to make some small changes in my life that might make me at least feel more productive. (In psychology terms, they call this stage Generativity vs. Stagnation.)

Then last night I started reading John Ortberg’s book The Me I Want to Be. And he hits on the same topics. I’m just a couple chapters in, but what I’ve learned from it so far is that there is nothing I can do to make myself better. God made me, He knows me best, and He has plans to use me in ways that I can’t foresee. I can’t fulfill my own expectations, or anyone else’s for that matter. But God can fulfill His expectations to make me who He wants me to be. Ortberg writes, “Languishing is the condition of someone who may be able to function but has lost a sense of hope and meaning.”  And, “To be spiritually alive means to receive power from God to have a positive impact on your world.” (Sorry I don’t have page numbers, but I’m working from the Kindle version.)

I’m still pondering what this all means, and how to get to the point of letting God get on with what He’s already begun in me (Philippians 1:6). I know I can’t do it myself because I’ve tried for years and it has only made me miserable. I’m hoping Ortberg will have a few clues on how to let go. Meanwhile I’m trying to immerse myself in the promises of God and let them saturate my brain and my spirit. I need a bigger bulletin board for all the index cards of Scripture I’m accumulating!

When Tears Are Worship

We’ve probably all heard the definition of worship as “ascribing worth to God” or something similar. We tend to think of worship as what we do on Sunday morning, gathering together in joyous (or perhaps tedious) songs of praise and in prayer. Reading the chapter on worship in John Piper’s book Desiring God I got a new picture of what worship can be.

As I’ve been struggling with depression and frequent bouts of crying for no discernable reason, there are two thoughts that often come to mind. First, “Why is this happening?” And second, “Help me Lord!” At those times, I am realizing again how small I am and that I have no control over anything in this world. But I also realize how big our God is, not only in control of the universe but of each of His children as well. Nothing escapes His notice. And when I come to Him with empty hands and broken heart, I am worshipping Him by acknowledging that He is the only One who can heal me, and fill me with joy and peace.

How many times did the psalmist cry out to God for help and deliverance? Psalm 42:3 says, “My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me continually, ‘Where is your God?’” What about Peter in his time of failure by denying his Lord and then being forgiven on the seashore? How about Paul in prison, shipwrecks, and everything else he faced? Through it all our heroes of the faith worshipped God with their tears.

 

What an amazing thing it is that we have a God that not only loves people in general, but He loves me specifically. He not only loves me, but He likes me and wants to spend time with me (Zephaniah 3:17). So I’m reminding myself that even though I don’t understand what’s going on, my God is still worthy of worship because He is God and I’m not. What does the Father desire but for us come to Him and be swept up in His loving arms? And whether we come running in joy or in pain He still delights in being Abba Father. “Little ones to Him belong, we are weak but He is strong!”

Why Obey God?

In college one of my favorite classes as psychology, and my favorite section of the class was the study of Lawrence Kohlberg’s theory of moral development. It came to mind again this week after the revival services at church, which coincided with me reading John Piper’s book Future Grace. So in an effort to combine all three trains of thought, the following is one theory as to what motivates us to obey God. The rationale varies from person to person, as does the level of obedience. To paraphrase Kohlberg, the stages are:

1) Fear of punishment

2) Seeking reward (what’s in it for me)

3) Seeking approval (good boy; social norms)

4) Maintaining social order (law and order)

5) Social contract (what’s best for society, even if it is not legal)

6) Universal ethical principles

I would suggest that a lot of “evangelistic” preaching is focused at the first level-- forcing people to obey God out of fear of future punishment-- trying to “scare the hell” out of people. This approach may work on a superficial level for a period of time, but it fails to address the issues of the heart. The second level isn’t much better-- I’ll obey just enough to get into heaven (hopefully).

The third level seems more “Christian” at least superficially. I’ll be good and go to Sunday school and try to keep my parents and teachers happy. If I’m good enough then maybe God will accept me. One problem is determining what is “good enough.” Depending on who we compare ourselves to, we may feel we’re doing well. But compared to the holiness of the perfect God, we’ve totally missed the point.

The fourth level focuses on the fact that if people obey the law, then the world will be a better place. Those who disobey the law deserve whatever punishment they may receive, both now and in the hereafter. But whose law are we obeying? Is it the law of whatever country we reside in, or the law of the Lord of the Universe?

At the fifth level comes the realization that some things need to be done even if they are outside the laws of men. You might think of those who have chosen to proclaim their faith even in the face of death. Civil disobedience is an effort to bring a greater good to the world, and perhaps to get the laws changed at the same time.

And finally, the universal ethical principles-- and I would say “godly principles.” Those who have truly understood the grace of God are anxious to obey Him, not to gain His approval, to win a place in heaven, or even to express our thankfulness, but because “Christ’s love compels us” (2 Corinthians 5:14). We obey because He loved us and therefore we are enabled to love Him. Even when we fail to obey, we know that we have forgiveness in Christ and are fully accepted by Him (Romans 5:1, Colossians 1:21-22).

I would argue that few Christians (perhaps nominal Christians) ever reach the upper levels of development. Many do the “Christian thing” out of habit, perhaps trying to please a parent or spouse, and hoping to tip the scales of judgment in their favor. But God desires an obedience that comes from a heart motivated by love. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength” (Deuteronomy 6:5). In Matthew 22 Jesus emphasizes this motivation as the only way to fulfill the law and prophets. Even the Scribes and Pharisees missed the point, so it’s little wonder that so many Christians are in the same boat.

“I pray that you being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19).

Introverts

I was recently reminded of the Myers-Briggs personality inventory. A year or so ago I tested as “ISTJ,” and I found some good descriptions online. I guess I’d summarize it as being conscientious to a fault-- even to the detriment of my physical and mental health. I don’t know if it’s part of being an introvert, or one of my other clinical diagnoses, but I’ve always found it much easier to write than to interact verbally in nearly all situations. I hate the telephone because there’s no way to plan for the conversation. Face to face meetings are somewhat easier if I can kind of read the situation. But the larger the group the harder it is to form any coherent statement that will contribute to the discussion.

The difficulty in conversations is that I have too many thoughts going through my mind to decide how to put them into a coherent sentence that is relevant to the subject at hand. I’m constantly thinking-- What do they mean by that question? What answer are they expecting? What answer will satisfy them? What do I believe about the subject? Does this person believe the same way I do? Can I safely say what I believe without offending them or making them categorize me? If I say this, what is the next question going to be and am I ready to answer that one? Is this a 5-minute conversation or 15?

It was brought to my consciousness in a counseling session a few weeks ago (and is part of the reason I quit going). She gave me the standard, “You can say anything to me.. You can even tell me you think I’m missing the point.” But then I made a comment simply in order to be honest, knowing that if I didn’t say it up front, she’d later want to know why I was hiding it. Anyway, my comment came out, and from that moment on that was the whole focus of her attention. It ticked me off because that particular issue was not the reason I was in her office. So I went back to my routine of carefully measuring the safety of every sentence.

Besides the difficulty of maintaining conversations, I have to mentally rehearse nearly every conversation I’ve had during the day. And if I know I have a meeting coming up, I try to rehearse every possibly contingency of what I need to say, what I can’t say, and where the discussion will lead. Sometimes my brain gets stuck on a relatively simple explanation. It’s as if I’m stuck in the middle of a geometry proof-- I can’t just say to myself “a triangle has three sides,” but I have to explain to myself that the sum of the angles is 180 degrees, the Pythagorean theorem, sine, cosine, and tangent formulas… Maybe it’s the mental equivalent of OCD-- if I don’t complete the thought I can’t move on to the next thought.

Anyway, the reason I’m going through all this right now is that I know many businesses discourage the use of email because of its impersonal nature and is often misinterpreted. But they don’t understand that some of us communicate much better by email than in person. It is less frightening and a lot faster in most cases. Going back to the introvert label, it is draining to be around people to listen to all that they have to say, especially if they are the type of person who thinks out loud and never gets to a point. I like to avoid all such interactions, even if I know that I have something valuable to contribute. Even people who work in the same field, and should have about the same knowledge that I have, can be an irritant if they can’t get to the conclusion as fast as I can or in the same way I do. If it’s clear that A+B=C, then why do they complicate things by explaining that C-B=A?

As an introvert, I’ve constantly been challenged by any kind of competitive activity, from card games to basketball. I remember in grade school I would “cheat” at Bingo to make sure someone else would win before me. I had no desire to draw attention to myself by winning. Then there was the ubiquitous Sunday school activity of “who can find the Bible verse first?” I knew perfectly well that I could find them first, but I wasn’t about to try. Team sports have always intimidated me with the worry that I might somehow embarrass myself. At least in track I had a place where I quickly learned I could excel without worry (though I did feel bad about beating a girl who was two or three grades ahead of me).

It’s also tough to have an IQ that’s higher than 98% of the world. (Yes, I’m a Mensa member, at least until the next time my dues are up.) Even if I have a good idea that could benefit others, I’m afraid I’ll have to explain it to someone who just doesn’t get it.

So what do I take away from these ramblings? I know that God has made me unique, and it’s okay to be different, but sometimes I wish I weren’t quite so different. And while I know that He will help me do whatever He requires of me, that doesn’t make it much less scary. Some things have gotten easier over time, but He keeps stretching my comfort zone.

One Person's Story

In some respects it started in 1999 when I was diagnosed with depression and put on medication. But in reality it started many years earlier, before I was old enough to know what depression was. Being a shy child and moving from one state to another every few years, I was usually lonely and isolated. It’s hard to be happy when you have no close friends, and move just as soon as you start to fit in. I remember being quite young and crying to my mom, “I feel like nobody loves me.” Of course I was loved, and I knew that, but there was some unexplainable unhappiness within me. I suppose if I’d been born a few years later I would have been medicated as a child. 

Junior high and high school brought new tortures. Anyone who was quiet, smart, or a little different was victim to numerous bullies. The school bus was the worst. Since mine was the last stop, the seats were mostly filled and the few that remained were obstinately refused to be yielded. Even kids several years younger than me would take the opportunity to prove they were too cool for someone like me. I begged to go to a Christian school or to be home schooled, but that was not allowed. It didn’t help that I skipped 7^th grade and thus ended up a grade higher than the kids who had been my friends, and a year younger than all my classmates. The blessing was that it meant I could get out of that atmosphere a year sooner. I'm glad that was before the days of school shootings, because some of my classmates would have followed the trends.

Attending a Christian college was a little better in that I found many people with similar interests and beliefs. But there were some difficulties there too. My junior year I was selected to be an Resident Assistant, but the experience was so overwhelming for me that I was forced to resign due to my depression. I was also forced to see a counselor for a few sessions, but I didn’t get much out of it because I was so resentful at being there. I did manage to survive as an RA for my senior year however. One of the memories that still makes me cringe is that at the end of the year, my Resident Director, who had known me for four years, told me that she’d always thought of me as “just another student” even though I had thought we were closer than that. After all, I had even worked one summer with her at a Pioneer Girls camp. She also told me that she felt our relationship was like rough sandpaper. Reflecting on it now, I truly believe she was dealing with some emotional problems of her own, and probably didn’t realize the wounding power of her words.

Whether from coincidence or intuition, my senior research project was on the biological function of antidepressants (long since outdated). Now that I’ve had some personal experience with several different antidepressants, I realize how variable they are from one person to another, and even variable at different times for the same person. I’ve been on at least 6 different meds over the years, often two at the same time. I’ve also had a couple different anti-anxiety meds. In my own case, I think the major cause is chemical insufficiencies in my brain; however, I know that circumstances, events, and beliefs can also play a roll in feelings of wellbeing.

I’ve been through some counseling in years past that has helped me to look at things a little differently. Sometimes I know I should reconsider my perspective on issues, but I don’t always want to do that. At times it feels easier to live with depression than to take steps to resolve the issues that may be contributing to it. It’s especially hard when there are other people involved--people I don’t want to confront about their lack of cooperation and communication, or people I don’t want to hurt by questioning whether they are doing the right thing in the right way. And I also don’t want to be seen as an irritant by complaining too often about things that don’t seem quite right to me. I don’t know if it is related to my job and/or gifts of wisdom and discernment, but I frequently feel like I have a unique perspective on things that are happening. I always hope that someone else sees the same picture so that I don’t have to be the one to defend my perspective. I’ve been shot down in groups a couple times for voicing my opinion, so I usually just keep it to myself. Ironically, in the two instances that come to mind, the group leader specifically asked me for my opinion and then turned it around to make me sound like a heretic.

Those are just a few of the factors that have made me who I am today. In general I would say that I am content with who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. My only desire is that I would be more conscious of dwelling in Christ and that His joy may complete in me.