Archive for the ‘The Journey’ Category

speak to me in the light of the dawn.

Sunday, February 15th, 2009

Since the beginning of this year, I’ve been in the bluest, most angsty depression you can imagine. At times, it felt worse than the scary post-partum depression I experienced after a rough recovery while healing from the c-section with Drew.

Those days were scary. Scissors, throwing pots, ripping pages out of books, finding myself in the floor of the bathroom and not remembering how I got there. In time, I realized the “Christian” advice of just committing more to Christ so He would heal my obvious sin problem was very, very wrong and found my way to a doctor. Interestingly, it was a Christian doctor who wrapped her arms around me and whispered that she treated so many folks in our community (the upstate of South Carolina at that time) who’d been told all of their life that depression was a sin problem. She prayed over me and we talked faith and science for quite a while. Anti-depressants were a life-saver at that moment. As was my husband who gingerly and sweetly walked through those days with me.

(If you know very little of depression, or the effect that depression can have on the other spouse, please go read Jon Armstrong’s story.)

After we moved here, I went off the meds simply because I was feeling a lot better and when it was time for my prescription to be refilled, I thought, why not try a month without it to see if I need them permanently or all the time. A perfectly normal thought.

I did very well from August – December. Yes, there was change, in a variety of forms, and the normal stress of life was always present, but I was able to function very well through it all. I had blue days occasionally but we all have those.

After we visited South Carolina for Christmas, and then had a New Years celebration in Maryland, we came home and I slowly sank into a depressed state. I think many different things contributed to it all. I was sick with a sinus infection for a month, I started having asthma problems at night, and with the cold Pennsylvania days blustering around the house and Daniel having our only car, Drew and I have been stuck in the house for 6 1/2 weeks. I think we’ve gotten out of the house during the day for maybe 4 days.

The laundry has piled up, the dishes have stacked in the sink, and for one week, I only showered once. I didn’t even have the strength to take my clothes off and stand in the hot water. And yet I ached to.

Each day has been the same. Daniel leaves for work, and Drew and I slowly wake up and eat breakfast while watching Sesame Street. Then we color, read books, and play with toys. And all the while, I cry. I change his diaper, I give him a bath (and yet couldn’t muster the strength to shower), we eat lunch, I teach him blue, yellow, red, and during his naps I go into the guest room and sit in the chair by the window.

I tried to read my Bible. I tried to read books. I tried to surf online. I deactivated Twitter and Facebook. And I sat curled up in the chair and wept for two hours every day. Drew would snore, and I’d watch the squirrels play in the tree, and see the little neighbor girl arrive home from school each day. She’d wave at her mom and run into the house and I’d envy her ability to skip on days when snow was covering everything. I stopped going to church for a while. And I avoided all phone calls and emails.

Our evenings consisted of Daniel arriving home, and comforting me for a bit before he planned dinner, did laundry, and straightened the house. I’d hold Drew and read books but without the wiggly voice I always use. I tried to play the piano and I tried to sing. But it was as though I had no voice with which to sing.

We finally had the talk about how perhaps I really needed to get to a doctor and get back on some medication so I could start to function again. But in the back of my mind, I kept fighting this voice that spoke with Christian authority urging me to simply ask God what I was doing wrong and that once I confronted my sin, I would be healed of these blue days.

It was as though I had learned nothing in the past two years of my on and off struggle with depression and reconciling it with God. It was difficult to think of depression as an illness that simply happens to some folks through nothing that they’ve done at all. I told myself that if I or Daniel had not seen or felt improvement in two weeks, that I’d schedule an appointment with a doctor.

That was two weeks ago.

And on the other side of that long conversation, with Daniel and God, I am wide eyed in amazement.

One evening, I sat in the floor with my laptop and thought perhaps I could use some of this time in which I was off Facebook, Twitter, and blogging, to find all of my past archives and sync them into Fairly Ordinary. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to publish them all but I just wanted them in one place.

It was pretty mindless to sit and scroll, copy and paste, and create entries in WordPress. But I did read every word, and I slowly began to relive all of these stories.

Part of my biggest frustration in the past two years is that I’ve felt like I don’t know who I am anymore. The woman I was in college, and the woman I was after college is different. And the woman I was when I met Daniel, and the woman I was after we were married for a year is different. And Lord knows the woman I was before being a mother and the woman I am now are really, really different.

The more I learn of God and the more I learn about life, my creeds seem to shatter and I slowly find myself realizing that life is truly only about acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. The rest is grace and freedom.

I’m so thankful to have learned of the sweet grace of Jesus but I’ve still paced back and forth on the question of but who am I now?

As I relived my stories, I realized that I am still the same Jennifer.

The same Jennifer who wept at the piano and in hot baths, who knew to lift her head to the sky, who realized that she was being woven into the story of redemption, who reminded herself that nothing compares even when those she loves walks away from Christianity, who spent weeks listening to Taylor Sorenson’s I Sought for the King so many times that my cd broke, who had days that felt like annoying drips from the kitchen sink, and the same Jennifer who rediscovered the beauty of grace and peace woven into the story of the One who is my Rescuer.

I’m just someone who has forgotten the depth of some chapters in my life. I laughed and cried as I re-read the stories. I rolled my eyes at the naivety during my college days. I wiped tears as I read and remembered the hearts I hurt and those who hurt mine. And I winced as I read things about faith that are simply not true. But all of these pieces are part of my glorious story.

A story of one fairly ordinary girl who met God as a child and had no idea what she was getting into. And I still don’t. 🙂

I felt my heart healing, the sadness leaving, and joy flooding over my soul as I remembered all the times God brought me through. I reminded myself of His mercy, I bathed in His love, and I opened my front door on a cold winter day while crying as I realized that no matter if these dark days were going to subside or linger, that I’m loved by the God of the universe and He cares where I am and how I feel and He’s not sitting in Heaven marking off a list of lessons that Jennifer Needs to Learn.

In other words, this life isn’t a Sunday School Lesson in which I need to get an A+ or I’ll have to repeat the lesson. Nor is life about finding the ever elusive Will of God that even when found needs a secret map or decoder ring to decipher.

It’s simply about acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. The rest is grace and freedom.

Interestingly, the dark depression has lifted for the moment. We’ve realized that my being indoors all week doesn’t help me emotionally and so we’ve visited parks at lunchtime, had dinners out in the evening, and music has poured out of our living room late into the evening.

I still don’t know if I need medication but I’m willing to see a doctor and head back down that road if that is what my body needs. I just know that this dark depression I was in was very real and painful and my body and soul have healed without meds for the time being. I am just taking each day at a time right now.

This weekend was so encouraging. We spent Valentines Day in Hershey, Pennsylvania where we trekked through ZooAmerica and Chocolate World (and I am actually sick of chocolate now – and yes, that’s blasphemous I realize), and I finally found myself back at church this morning.

I’m so incredibly glad I did.

Daniel is playing with the band now so I took over his technical/keynote responsibilities. I had to get there early and was around when the band started to practice.

I sat in a puddle of tears as I heard for the first time, C.S. Lewis Song. It’s based off of his writings and the lead singer this morning read from Till We Have Faces before she sang. You can find the lyrics here and below is the video by Brooke Fraser:

We then talked about big hairy questions that make a lot of Christians normally squirm. Things like why does God allow bad things to happen to anyone, much less Christians? Why are their tsunamis, earthquakes, famine, and airplanes crashing into houses? If God is all powerful, then does God cause pain?

It wasn’t a pretentious time of We Have All the Answers and you are welcome to gather around and learn. We just shared our stories and read the Bible and marveled on what is true about life and God.

At one point, someone was sharing that a particular painful chapter in their life had been when a family member was very ill. In their crying out to God, they began to learn that pain isn’t something that God sends to teach a lesson (my dark depression isn’t just a sound bop on the head from the Almighty who is itching to remind me to rely on Him) but that through the curse of a broken earth or a broken body, and through our own stumblings and failures, we do have pain.

We do have depression, ended relationships, sickly family members, children without food, dying dreams, and the blackest of days – but we can see God through the pain. And by see, I mean, really know.

And with all creation groan as I wait for hope to come for me.

I’m on the other side of the pain for the moment. My soul is encouraged and I’ve written this down to remind myself in the days ahead…although the pain will no doubt come, there will be an end.

My patient husband and sweet son are sleeping right now. I’m thinking I might order Pizza Hut’s pasta for dinner. And now it’s the middle of February and I feel like I’ve lost a month and a half in this year. But I haven’t. I’ve gained perspective and a gentle reminder that He was here all along.

The days ahead look interesting.

Our stay in Carlisle looks as if it won’t be much longer. Because of Daniel’s job, we are 90% sure we’ll be moving to Ann Arbor, Michigan in the coming months. And who knows what other pieces of our story will change. But all along, no matter where we live, no matter how dark my days are, I will listen to His voice in the light of the dawn and wait for Him to hold my hand when I’m singing loudly and full of joy or when I’m blindly stumbling through my day and unable to step into a hot shower.

For I was made to live. I was made to love. I was made to know You.

And hope is coming for me.

sickness, faith, and a redesign.

Monday, January 26th, 2009

It turns out that my Mom was right. When the doctor gives you a prescription for antibiotics to clear up your sinus infection, you need to take all the pills.

A few weeks ago, I was deathly sick with the Fungus of the Bungus (or, sinus infection for you less-creative types) and in all of the drama, I only took about 5 pills. I’m used to taking a Z-Pac when I have an infection and when I was handed an entire bottle of pills instead (huge pills, no less), I just frankly didn’t remember to ever take them.

Here we are, a few weeks later. And the sinus infection is back. And it’s so much worse this time.

The bottle of antibiotics greeted me at breakfast this morning and I politely said yes.

So what do you do when you are at home and very sick? Redesign your blog, of course!

You might also notice that I’ve removed some posts I’d written on faith.

This past week I had a very difficult conversation with a friend of mine about what I’ve previously written and it was simply the last straw. I decided to simply mark the posts unpublished for now.

I’m not saying I’ll never write about faith again. I just know that right now, I don’t feel like I can write freely without repercussions from my friends and family. Repercussions that hurt the relationship.

I had hoped that writing honestly, and truthfully, would be much better than just pretending like nothing has happened. Wearing masks with each other is not only a pet peeve of mine but it’s also something I’m passionately against. I’ve had comments of “you shouldn’t write about that kind of stuff online” occasionally but I believe that being real and speaking truth is much more important than feelings.

But when my relationships with friends and family crumble just slightly due to hurt feelings, I start to re-think that.

I just wanted to let you know that’s why some of the posts are missing.

Anyway. Enough awkward talk.

Do you like the redesign?

re-discovering grace and peace, part I.

Monday, January 19th, 2009

In 2006, on a day I remember as though it were yesterday, I found myself sitting in front of a computer, sobbing. I was overwhelmed physically, spiritually, and very pregnant with Drew. My hormones were the cause of my tears, I thought. But the more I prayed, and the more I wept, I knew that something deeper was happening.

On this particular day, I had a task I was to complete for someone else. I worked all morning long, frustrated and angsty, doing my best to complete my responsibility. But I couldn’t keep my mind on the job. I finally stole away to a secret room and knelt. It had been weeks since I’d been able to pray. I’d felt so alone, so desperate, and so scared of where my journey in faith was leading. As I knelt there, I felt the presence of God surround me. The moment was so rich and I felt so safe. I finally found my voice and begged my God to help me. To somehow, someway, show me the path I was to take and to give me courage on the days where I felt so alone.

I headed back to finish the task and although I didn’t hear an audible voice from heaven state anything that conquered my fears or frustration, just spending time alone with God and pouring out my heart had done more for me than anything else in the recent weeks. With my heart and mind clear, I quickly finished the task and went on with my day. It was during the afternoon that I first heard the new song by Fernando Ortega. Grace and Peace. And I fell in love with this amazing song. Little did I know how God would comfort me with this song through the next three years.

Time flew by. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. And throughout the next year, Daniel and I started to feel quite unsettled with where we were spiritually. The angst that we were both feeling had grown harder to ignore.

When we got married, we not only joined together for our future but we brought all of our past baggage along with it. It’s required us to be honest, real, and vulnerable with each other and to talk through our pain, our sin, and to admit the places where we know God wants change.

I’m telling you, marriage is really hard work (but worth it)!

But the restless ache inside wasn’t from any gross sin or miscommunication between us. We both simply felt a weight on our hearts that echoed we weren’t where God wanted us to be. Spiritually, it meant that we needed to step back and take another look at what it meant to be a Christian and what it meant to follow after Christ. Practically, it meant we had to decide if our particular fellowship was where we needed to worship.

I’ll be quite frank with you. When Daniel and I knew we were in love and knew we wanted to get married, I actually told him that under no circumstances would I ever leave South Carolina. Nor would I ever leave my church where I’d spent all of my life. He wisely asked, “what if the Lord changes our future?” I simply brushed it off at the time because I KNEW that God would never, ever take me away from my band of believers and especially my family.

Obviously, as I’m writing this from my home in a cold, wintery Pennsylvania, I was wrong. And interestingly, Daniel still married me. He says now that he simply knew I was the girl for him and that he prayed that God would work out the rest. He was a brave soul.

We began reading the Bible more, studying, praying, and talking oh-so-very-late into the night as we pondered what it means to follow after Christ. Both of us have grown up in godly homes and have been blessed to know Christ since we were children. But when we both met God, we were tiny, and we really had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. It isn’t until you grow in age that understanding starts to deepen. Ideally, it deepens with Truth. But our understanding is often wrongly or rightly influenced by our family, our churches, our circumstances, and no doubt, by our own mistakes and failures. Or worse, the mistakes and failures of those around us.

And in the midst of this restlessness, I feared that my idea of what it means to follow after Christ had been colored by something that was perhaps wrong. Maybe just maybe, and quite unintentionally, I’d lost sight of what being a Christian is really all about.

For years, I’ve been bothered by certain aspects of Christian Fundamentalism. My frustration hasn’t had anything to do with the actual fundamentals of the faith. But having spent my formative years at BJU (the Fundamentalist Mecca of the South), and having always been a member of the same Independent Baptist church (a really sweet group of believers I might add), I’ve seen some confusing sides of Christianity that have overwhelmed me. While in college, I started studying on some of these issues myself but when I asked for help from someone I trusted spiritually, I was told that I didn’t need to start second-guessing everything I believed. And that I just needed to trust those who were my leaders. That they knew a lot more than I did.

Naively, I agreed. In hindsight, I would think that anything we believe should be subject to discussion and explanation and that we should never be afraid to question.

When I became pregnant with Drew, I could no longer ignore the aspects of Fundamentalism that bothered me. I had to find answers and understanding on these issues before I started raising a child and teaching him about God.

The questions I had dealt with these types of issues: the strict divide of separation with other believers (I’m not talking about disagreeing with believers over core doctrines to Christianity), the assumption that if you are a godly Christian then you will have certain standards (that one should find in Scripture, supposedly) in your life (this applies to dress, music, movies, etc.), the belief that it’s possible to have “more light” on a particular issue than other Christians, the utter fear or perhaps anger I saw flare up when anyone mentioned that we Fundamentalists were legalists, the distrust of “evangelicalism”, a belief that we’re called to reform our government to reflect the Bible, and towards the end of my studies I realized that I’ve been in the midst of Keswick theology all of my life. And my biggest struggle was how on earth can I ever reach out for God’s help when I consistently fall on my face and make mistake after mistake. I felt that I needed to have a track record of some “godly living” before asking for help.

My prayers were always about how I know I haven’t been reading my Bible every single day, I’ve been doing this particular thing that I know is sin, and I haven’t prayed in a while, and so I’m sure that you are disappointed in me and won’t be able to come to my aid unless I tell you all these bad things and promise that I won’t do them again.

All through 2007, we studied and prayed. It was really difficult because we knew that we were just a young married couple who did not have it all figured out (compared to folks we knew who had been followers of Christ since before we were born and with whom we were realizing we disagreed) but we knew that we needed real strong answers on these issues.

By January of 2008, exactly a year ago right now, we had our answer from God. We had to leave Fundamentalism and we had to part ways with those we love so dearly. It was awkward and it hurt. Very much. It hurt us to walk away and it hurt those left behind who had invested so much of themselves into our lives. For a few weeks, it felt like we were stumbling blindly into a chapter of This is Dry Egypt and You Made a Very Bad Mistake and oh guess what, now you get to church shop!

Through a series of very-much-God-ordained events, we eventually found ourselves at Southside Fellowship. We had listened to a few sermons online before visiting and felt lead to visit and see what the services were like. Having been told that Southside was the Devil’s Playground for Naughty Christians while at BJU (I used to assume this was because they had contemporary worship but now I realize that it’s also because of church politics back in the day and sadly, because SF simply made a stand against racism), I really expected some wild and rollicking seeker-sensitive type service where we would leave the service feeling Fluffy and Wonderful about how much Jesus Loves Us and never really hear anything about life-change. I didn’t have very high expectations.

That first service, I walked in wearing a very thick mask. I didn’t know anyone, it was a large church and I was used to a small friendly congregation where everyone knew your name, and I felt somewhat sure that they all were secretly “backslidden” Christians because why else would I have always been told this church was off-limits? Literally. I would have been kicked out of school if I’d visited this church while enrolled at BJU.

We had the opportunity to place Drew in their Very Awesome kids program, so Daniel and I sat down in the midst of the crowd. Holding hands tightly. I was gingerly trying to let go of my reservations about it all when a guy sat down at a beautiful black grand piano and simply started playing a slow melody. I’d expected smoke and lights and instead this guy was playing a hauntingly beautiful piece and as he leaned forward to the microphone, I heard him say, “Good morning. I don’t know what circumstances have brought you here. But we love and welcome you.”

Those simple words encouraged my spirit as I sat still and heard for the first time the beautiful song He Has Done It All.

So I’ll run after Him // For His pleasure
Not to gain His love // Or His favor
I will walk in joy // Or on painful paths
But my hope’s still sure // When He’s all I have

And so a new chapter was born. One in which I would learn more about grace than I ever knew, more about justification than I could have ever imagined, more about the Holy Spirit than I had ever learned, more about freedom in Christ than I had ever dreamt, and more about sweet fellowship with believers all around the world than I could have ever envisioned.

we need the Healer.

Saturday, January 17th, 2009

My “blog friend” Kelly just had her baby girl Harper yesterday evening.

There have been some complications and Harper has been flown to Tulsa. She’s having heart and lung bypass surgery.

I don’t even know what else to say. I went to bed last night and before my head hit the pillow, I prayed for them and felt so burdened. I woke early this morning and slipped downstairs before Drew and Daniel woke to see if there was an update on Kelly and Harper.

When I read the news I just cried. They need God to hold them ever so close right now and to be a Healer for them. Kelly and Scott have been trying to have a baby for years and sweet Harper was an answer to prayer.

They are praising God even in the midst of this but please lift them up in prayer. You can imagine what it must be like to see your answer to prayer in critical care.

sweet hour of prayer.

Friday, January 16th, 2009

Heartache and tragedy rip our hearts apart. But prayer, that sweet hour of prayer, is like a balm to the soul.

I’ve wept for these people this week. Please take the time to read their stories, whisper a prayer for them, donate any money if you can, and spread the word to those near you who will beseech Heaven on their bequest.

Kristi, a mother of three young boys and wife to Chuck has been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer.

Bonnie, mother to Caroline, just lost her husband Thomas in a terrible car accident.

– This wife and mother of TEN just lost her home in a fire, their dog just died, and one of their sons had appendicitis the day after the fire and had to have surgery.

May the God of all comfort give healing, peace, comfort, and wisdom to all these grieving hearts.

And may He be praised even in the midst of the darkest days.