Tired of Being Strong

 “Ironic how with Spring, the earth beckons us to come out and play, but the world-wide disease warns us to stay inside.”

Equipment left at a standstill; a project discontinued; 

a reminder of the impact of COVID-19

     Yesterday, I was playing with the idea of writing a poem expressing my perspective on the COVID-19 global pandemic...I was on a walk by myself.  I usually walk alone, but with the fear that a case may come in my own community, restrictions on socialization are cut to a minimum.  Starting today, we are to take shelter for two weeks if we have a job that is considered nonessential.  My school district has already been closed for two weeks.  If we start school back up after Easter, we will have gone a month without our students.

     I understand the precautions taken to stop the spread of this virus.  Simultaneously, I wonder how much of my actions seem to not mind the measures.  I have been volunteering to help with making meals for students.  I met with my big brother to hang out.  My interactions are limited, sure, but I am still going outside of my home.  Am I just throwing caution to the wind?

     As of this morning, I am fully aware of the risk I take by assisting in my community.  But I am more concerned what this social isolation may do to me.  As much as I would be protected from getting sick, I am fearful for my sanity.  

     The first week of the state-wide school shut down, I was physically worn from helping out in the kitchen.  Let’s just say, my feet have taught me a new-found appreciation for the school cooks.  This past week, however, I found myself emotionally worn.  I took an extra day off from volunteering, because I was still climbing out of the melancholic agitation I found myself.  Worn...almost warped...physically, and then mentally.  It’s only a matter of time that if I don’t fight whatever thing that I am facing, it would only wear me spiritually, as well.

     Without going into detail what caused these mental battles this last week, all that needs mentioning is that I felt trapped.  Confused.  Wishing I could ask for help, but wondering where and who to go to.  The Bible says to not forsake the assembling of the saints (Hebrews 3:12-14; 10:23-25), and to pray for those who have sinned and or are in need of healing (James 5:16).  But when I have a burden that requires assistance, I feel the utmost pressure to stay silent.  I wonder how much of my upbringing, as well as Christianidoms have influenced my inhibition to be quiet.

      I do as I have been told.  I pray.  I am in my Word.  I bring the concern to God...But what happens if in the moment, it is too much?  Is it wrong for a Christian who has been walking with Jesus to ask for assistance?  I am hesitant to ask for a hand, however.  I have learned to not ask for help.  My mother, while I was growing up, would tell me to not bother someone.  My independent spirit has cauterized a habit to refuse assistance of any kind.  Furthermore, I fear there is a pervasive belief among mature Christians that it is not okay to ask for help. 

     When is it appropriate to go to a friend for help?  I feel like the only time I am within the boundaries to accept assistance when someone asks me if I want assistance.  Otherwise, I should be going to the Lord.  But I do...and sometimes in prayer, the only thing I can get out is, “Daddy,” before I start screaming, wretched with hurt and anger that the only release I can find is to hit something.  And sometimes, my own flesh is what satisfies.  I have taught myself to handle a situation alone...and by the time I finally ask for a life preserver, I am already drowning!

     I need help.  But will I scare someone with the burden I bear?  Will I be judged for not being a good enough Christian?  Will I be asked to step down from ministry for having a moment of struggle or sin?  (God had to convict me that if I was asked to step down, it would hurt me, because I find my worth in my ability to serve.)  Can I be forgiven?  I stuff things...I deal with them alone, because I have taught myself that I shouldn’t be in need.  And if I am in need, then I should only be going to the Lord.

     I admit that a well I drink from, opposite from Christ, is my relationship with friends. I find my momentary joy when I am with people. When I am forced to go without, it brings an uncomfortableness and pain that can be overwhelming. Ironic that quarantine is being utilized to save lives, but for someone who lives alone, it tempts death of another kind - depression. So...my question stands.  When is it appropriate to ask for help?

     Or because I have known Christ for 20 years, am I to suffer because I should know better?

     I can already see how Pastor Joel’s sermon from last Sunday is getting twisted (he preached on seeking Christ first and most, daily).  “If God is to fill all my needs, then I should never ask for help.”  However, I see in the book of Acts that God meets the needs of people through people, just as well from His own hand (hello, helping with making meals for students during this shutdown).  

     My thoughts can overwhelm...in a matter of seconds.  They speak louder than my Father’s words, so sometimes I feel trapped.  And then when I am bold enough to ask for help, I feel ashamed for doing so.  Like I shouldn’t be asking.

     And we wonder why people in ministry get burnt out, and why we see pastors committing suicide.  I can’t speak for every circumstance, but I don’t think the individuals in these circumstances are broken, because they doubt God’s goodness.  They may be so hurt by the things in the world that they believe the only peace that can be found is in their Daddy’s arms.  Just a side thought, though.

     I am tired of believing the lies that I should be carrying my own load.  Tired of believing the lies that I should be praying for everyone else, but I can’t ask for prayer, myself.  I am tired of feeling like I should be ready to fill others, when there are moments I do need to be filled myself, because of the weight I bear.  I am tired of denying the fact that I have needs, in the name of meeting other peoples’ needs.  I tell people I’m okay if they aren’t okay.  But I don’t trust myself  to not be okay with someone else.  Because I have to be strong.  And yet - proving my strength is what denies my trust in God.  

     I know that I must go to God first and foremost.  But I also know that we need a three-strand cord to sturdy our stances (and don’t give me the excuse that the three-strand is the Trinity...God meant for us to be in community, and to not be islands of faith).    I know I am not where I want to be.  I want the chains of anxiousness, fear, worry, self-loathing, and anger to loose.  But in the meantime, if I have tried to lay things at His feet, would you be okay if I called?  Stressed, overwhelmed, and in need of hearing truth, would you help without any hint of shame or judgment?  

***

    After writing and crying out to God my concerns, I read in my devotions, this morning, how God directed the Israelites to ensure the poor and needy to not be left without provision or to be taken advantage of.  God cares for His people.  He cares for my needs.  I believe that it’s okay to ask for help.  Otherwise, what would be the point of accountability if we shut up?  I am not asking for someone to carry my burden for me (Lord of the Rings reference), but to walk with me in my moment until I have enough strength.  Sometimes, all I really need is a listening ear and to hear truth as well as an outside perspective on the situation at hand.  I often go to God first and most, dealing with things.  I can handle things, and share with someone once a week.  It’s a less occasion when I call out of desperation.  I wonder if guilt can be removed.

     In another devotional, Psalm 40 was brought forth...and talk about God responding!  Take time to read the following:

    “I waited patiently for the Lord, and He inclined to me, and heard my cry.  He also brought me out of a horrible pit [a pit of tumult and destruction], out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps…

     Blessed is that man who makes the Lord his trust, and does not respect the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies.  Many, O Lord my God; are Your wonderful works which You have done; and Your thoughts toward us cannot be recounted to You in order; if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered…

     Do not withhold Your tender mercies from me, O Lord; let Your lovingkindness and Your truth continually preserve me.  For innumerable evils have surrounded me; my iniquities have overtaken me, so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs on my head; therefore my heart fails me.  Be pleased, O Lord, to deliver me; O Lord, make haste to help me!  Let them be ashamed and brought to mutual confusion who seek to destroy my life; let them be driven backward and brought to dishonor who wish me evil.  Let them be confounded because of their shame, who say to me, ‘Aha, aha!’

     ...But I am poor and needy; yet, the Lord thinks upon me.  You are my help and deliverer; do not delay, O my God.”

• Psalm 40: 1-2, 4-5, 11-15, 17

Faith to Believe

     Daddy, I have a problem.  I wouldn’t think I do.  It most likely won’t come into conversation.  However, as I think about it - as I ponder on it - it is a problem.  Why haven’t I been healed, yet?  Why, almost 30 years after my birth, does my right hand remain as the first day I came into this world?  Why must I still depend on medication to keep the seizures at bay? 

     I couldn’t tell you how many times I have been prayed for.   How many hands have laid on my shoulder, asking for Your healing.  Only once has something occurred; that was my leg.  I was 22-years-old.  It grew.  Do You remember?  I am nervous to ask again, Daddy.  I am nervous to want a word of knowledge speaking to my specific situation, because, if I was prayed for again, will I be prayed for and nothing happens...again?  People have told me to keep asking for it.  To thank you for the promise yet to be manifested.  But it’s hard.

     I have seen You grow limbs, heal diseases.  I would even say that I have faith for the most impossible circumstances. But when my right hand remains as its limp fist, I only wonder.  What did I do wrong?  Did I do something wrong?  People say to have faith.  And I know that You honor even the smallest of faith...as small as a mustard seed.  So, when I have prayed, I believe.  I take hold of those words in red, and hope that something will happen.  But alas, nothing.  People have told me to just receive Your promise.  Whenever have I refused Your gift, though?  I have held out my hands, wishing I could receive this gift that You so freely give.  

     Granted, I don’t pray for my hand as much as other things.  When I pray, it is often for my youth at church, family members who don’t have a relationship with you, or other things going on in life and the community.  Thinking about me, and my own condition, is often the last thing on my mind.  But how often may that be the result of failed hopes?  I don’t know.  

     When it is brought to light that disability - as much as the person should be accepted - but the condition is not, concerning the context of the kingdom of God, I only find myself questioning, “Why am I the one that has to wait?”  Is it lack of praying?  After all, James states that we don’t receive, because we don’t ask (and we ask amiss; James 4:3).  Perhaps the apex of emotions that have been starting to stir is because I am finally asking.  But I know that I have asked before.  Additionally, I know myself well enough that I can get fixated on a topic to pray for.  If I become fixated on this (which in the last two weeks, seems that it has become just that), then I will fail to intercede for more important matters.

     Maybe that’s the problem...I have lived with cerebral palsy and a seizure disorder for so long (the former, my entire life), that it is my normal.  What would it be like if I actually had the use of both my hands?  But since I have managed to live quite a fruitful life, there is not a need within my psyche to ask for it...But I am reminded that in the kingdom of heaven, disability will not exist.  And physical dysfunction, no matter how minor, does not serve a purpose where Your throne exists...And so, I wonder...am I just comfortable with where my life has been?

     And yet, ironically, I have lived with a perpetual fear of being defined by my hand in the sight of others.  How often have I played a sport, wondering what people might say about my ability?  How often have I laid the guitar down (or more rather, hung it up), never to touch it, because it was too hard for me to play it?  As long as I can remember, I have defined myself by what I can do.  I have also fought against the mental challenges of what I cannot do.  I realize that You won’t manifest a physical healing until the heart and mind about the condition has been healed, first.  There was a time that You revealed to me that my hand was not whole, yet, because I would claim my own strength, and become wholly dependent on myself.  Does that remain so, today?  

     In the last two weeks, the questions concerning healing - or more rather, my healing - have compounded in my thoughts (along with longings of the future and forgiveness...I guess there are a few things that the two of us need to get squared away).  More so, a revelation that the “big request”, as I like to call it, is an area where I fail to trust You.  I have faith for other peoples’ healing.  Even small things such as colds and pains, I can bring them to You, faithfully.  But there is a disconnect here.

     Actually, anytime I ask for a healing, and there isn’t immediate relief, I become concerned.  

     Why is it that I see in Your word, Jesus spoke and it was done in that moment, but I have to wait?  

     I don’t want to get to a place where I believe You to be a liar, in this area.  I know that You only speak truth (Titus 1:2).  I don’t want my experiences to supersede Your Word, in the manner that I dictate my faith.  But, I have subsequently believed that I have to earn this gift of healing.  I know that I could never earn any of your gifts, but I guess old habits die hard...Earning favor plays a role in my life.  And there is nothing I can do to make this healing come.  Dependent on the neurology of my body, I can lift weights, stretch my hand, but unless the dead things come to life again, my body will remain as it is.  It’s not like I can just give myself neurosurgery.  

     Daddy, it’s completely out of my control.  And it’s totally in Your hands.  I believe healing is Your will.  So, why haven’t You done anything?  (Am I at the point where I no longer blame myself, and now I am looking at You?)  

     Jesus directed us to pray, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven (Matthew 6:10).”  Wherever I read someone who asked to be healed, Jesus didn’t resent and not give it.  I know there are circles of Christians who believe that sometimes it may not be Your will to heal.  They will pray things such as, “If it is Your will…”  I realize that they are just trying to submit to Your timeline of when (incorporating heaven as part of that timeline), but it bugs the heck out of me.  Why would I ever have the boldness to pray for healing, if I only expect it would happen in heaven?  (By saying “if”, I feel moments are missed in praying declarative prayers that could change a situation that would otherwise remain the same.  Sometimes, we petition.  Other times, we must command.)  Maybe I am just going off.  Perhaps overzealous, in this determinant.  And yet, I stand on this stipulation, all the while my hand remains as it has always been.  

     John 9:1-3 was often a big help in dealing with living with cerebral palsy (and a seizure disorder).  But now, I am wondering, what is Your glory in me remaining as thus?  Perhaps because of all I can do, in spite of living with a disability...But notice that I didn’t state “being disabled.”  Whether it’s one hand or two, I have already figured out how to give myself credit for my physical accomplishments.  So, essentially, I’ve made the glory more about myself than about You.  

      Perhaps, it’s so I can have that touch of familiarity and understanding while working with SPED kids.  This seems more probable.  I remember what an impact it was when I saw that my freshman English teacher was paralyzed, in a wheelchair, and still doing what she loved.  2 Corinthians talks about that...Our pain brings comfort to others, because we understand their pain (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).  That being said...man, as I was writing this letter to You, it was only now that I thought of this being a hint for Your glory.  And in reading the 2 Corinthians reference, it gives me peace.  However, is it wrong for me to ask?

     The topic of healing is a touchy subject; perhaps even triggering.  I have wondered how much of my lack has depended on my failure in faith (I had one person tell the other people to have more faith so I could be healed...yeah, guilt trip!).  I want so badly...okay, correction - as of now, I want healing.  But even in the 2 Corinthians word, am I to only be pacified until another climatic run.  It seems that the “big request” is only warranted when I am in need of it, or the difference between experience and Your Word are magnified.  

     I have come to a point in my life where I have stopped asking for people to pray for me.  I have stopped inquiring for people to lay hands on me, because it has happened only You know how many times.  I have asked, and I am waiting for Your response.  You say Your promises are “yes, and amen” (2 Corinthians 1:20), so would it really be Your delight to withhold healing from Your child?  (I just found out that ‘yes, amen’ verse is in the same chapter as the word You just brought to my mind as I wrote my plight about how could this be Your glory...hmmm….)

     I do not believe You are a sadistic God.  To say that You made me with a disability is to almost say that a father would be willing to break his baby’s leg, just so he can look a little different, or to toughen him for life.  That would be crazy!  However, so many people know Your good, but supply that even the bad things are Your will.  Granted, they fully trust in Your sovereignty, but the dichotomy of circumstance seems to make Your goodness jaded.

     I believe You are good.  I believe You are sovereign.  I also know that this world has been scarred from the effects of sin, and things happen.  Sometimes things are allowed, and You use these things to shape us...But I refuse to believe that it was Your hand that cut off the blood from my brain, while in utero.  You are the giver of life; not the father of death.  Perhaps, in these statements of faith lies the hint of my frustrations.

     For I, too, have a dichotomy to live with.  A contradiction of truths, as some would say.  How can I believe for healing, but fail to trust You for my own?  How am I submitted to Your will, but be convinced that Your will is a certain result?  Legitimate questions.  But I guess we all must come to our own conclusions.  That being said, I do not want to ever arrive at a place where I am content not seeing Your hand at work, because I haven’t seen it with my eyes, yet.

      Another reference that has been popping in my mind, but I didn't want to journal about, is Hebrews 11:13-16, 32-40.  The most painful of verses is 39: “And all of these, though they won divine approval by [means of] their faith, did not receive the fulfillment of what was promised.”  They believed and hoped for their promises, but they did not receive! Yes, I admit that I didn’t want to take note of it, because I knew I am not the only one who has had to wait, and failed to receive.  (Pity alert!)
    But verse 40 continues: “Because God had us in mind and had something better and greater in view for us, so that they [these heroes and heroines of faith] should not come to perfection apart from us [before we could join them].”

     Daddy, what do You have in mind?  What is up Your sleeve?  I have words of knowledge, from various individuals, that they have seen my hand whole (which I have also understood, being healed of the seizure disorder, as well).  And yet, I am still waiting.  I trust You, even if I have to wait until heaven, but I have a feeling that I may not have to wait that long, either.  

     Last Sunday, I was dealing with a headache, and of course, these questions on healing.  While making the communion table, “You will be healed this year,” ran through my mind.  Could it be that You spoke?  Waiting 30 years, and finally my hand will be healed?  I admit that I am scared to say it was You.  Why get my hopes up, only to see that by January 1st of 2021, nothing has changed.  But what if it does change?  Should my fear prevent me from asking, acknowledging and limited by my past experiences?  

     Help me to have faith to believe.  To believe in all that You are and what You do. To believe in Your promises even when I have yet to see their fruit.  Help me to have faith for the next, while I am in the now.

Disturbed?

     Attending my church's Celebrate Recovery classes has reopened wounds that I only periodically addressed.  Periodically, because I only return to my hometown every so often.  Whereas my other blog-posts have addressed my wounds with my mother, this does not.  From the context of forgiveness, I have already fully forgiven my mother.  However, there is another family member I still fight to forgive.  I know that Jesus stated on the cross, "Forgive them for they know not what they do," but I wonder how much this individual does NOT know...or is their perspective so jaded by cultural norms that they do not realize it, at all?  
     Forgiveness is not an overnight thing, when wounds have festered for a time.  It's a process.  I have to choose to forgive - let go of the debt of the weight of what they have done (and still do) - despite the fact that nothing has changed.  I think that is the hardest thing of all.  However, if Jesus is willing to forgive, so must I.  I need help.  And I realize that forgiveness doesn't necessarily mean becoming best of friends in the relationship.  It might just look like being willing to spend time with the person.  It might mean having a conversation (but yet, having boundaries that the conversation doesn't go to an area that might cause harm).  It's willing to wish a blessing when everything says you want to curse that person.  It means giving a hug and saying, "I love you," even when you believe that you had to earn their love.
     Forgiveness is painful.  It's feeling the tears, but lacking any recourse for immediate change.  It's letting go of the expectation that public justice must be manifested to humiliate the person of their sin.  It's the willingness to reconcile the person to the wholeness of Christ, whether an apology is given or not.  Human nature demands the apology.  And the only one that may be given is theirs to God, and mine to Him (as well) for holding onto offense.  Will that be enough?
     In working through the hurt from this individual, I am calm, but the pain that I have incurred leaves me with questions.  Why was the object of offense such an issue for them?  I don't know if I will ever have the boldness to ask such a question.  I fear retaliation.  I fear being balked at.  I fear being shut down.  In the mean-time the subject has not been brought up, and I must find peace in the quiet despite my wonderings.  This poem has been written, more so, as a release of tension, but feeling the tears once again that caused so much damage.  I hope that in the process, it gives way to more freedom, and allow myself to love this person more deeply, despite the things they say.  All the while, during the waiting for redemption.

*****

A score of memories

Filled mostly with pain.

Questions not of what,

But, why…

My confidence in the treasures given

Shattered as messages received

Denied their importance.

What did I do 

To annoy you;

What did I say 

To hurt you?

I was only a child.

Running innocently

Through the wilds of God’s play.

Or so, I thought.

Until I heard words that my heart’s beat

Sought the wrong things.

I realize I am not perfect.

There is need for sanctifying.

However, God made me

As I am,

With the gifts, talents

Interests I have.

Passions and desires

That set me on fire.

What was it about me 

That disturbed you so?

The eyes through which

You read the world

Is colored in only two;

Black and white -

And the foundation you stand

Is always “right.”
Nevertheless, truth without love

Only deepens wounds carried

By the already hurting.

Always something to share;

Always ready with a response.

How often do you listen to learn;

Refrain the two cents you can birth?

Are you willing to carry the burden 

Of those with dying souls,

Without aiming to condemn them 

With their sin-filled actions?

Today, now I make you

Proud with the boldness

I have found

In Jesus Christ.

Things hidden now flourish

From what you define

To be a woman.

But another still waits for your approval.

What will she have to do

To gain your love?

How is it

You pour grace faithfully

Freely

Upon those not your own,

But drill the law upon your own blood?

Can love be extended,

Without anything in return?

Can delight in the person’s presence

Be given without a payment

Of walking the line divinely,

According to personal standards?

Can you want someone

Just as they are,

Despite the different 

Color they wear?