Struggles

A couple of years ago, I started noticing that years were marked by specific themes in my life. For example, 2010 was the Year of Abundance. 2011 became the Year of Stretching [my faith].

Sometimes God mentions to me what the coming year will be. Other times, I pick up on patterns or themes that He repeats in my life.

With all my struggles in 2012, I’ve been wondering what this year will become.

Early on, I thought it would be the Year of Favor, but so far (and very sadly, I might add) that word just hasn’t stuck.

Perhaps it will be the Year of Perseverance or the Year of Patience. But how can those words define a year when I’m in denial that they even exist in the English language? I mean, just looking at those words makes me tired.

Then, there is the Year of Brokenness. That sounds like a winner. Doesn’t it? I guess that’s the risk you take when doing back-to-back Bible studies about shattering idols (No Other Gods) and broken hearts (Nehemiah). Thanks, Kelly Minter.

The Year of Frustration is also in the running mainly because it pretty much sums up the last 150 days (give or take a few).

And then it came to me unexpectedly the other night.

My thoughts were holding me captive as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to find me. My house is up for sale and has been for a few weeks now. I pondered in the darkness and stillness how one person could do nine years of house maintenance in just under a month. Partially proud of myself for such efficiency, and partially ashamed at my procrastination, I thought about all the work that had been done to get my sweet, cozy, little townhouse ready for her next owner.  Whomever that might be.

For weeks my weekends and evenings were consumed by…

Packing up memories and knick-knacks.
Trashing the unnecessary or the obsolete.
Temporarily relocating the functional but nonessential.
Repairing, replacing or repainting minor imperfections.
Removing weeds and re-planting.

Of course, I didn’t do all these things myself. Some friends helped me lift the heavy stuff, and professionals came in to take care of the things I didn’t have the resources or know-how to do. But it was hard work none-the-less.

And that’s when it hit me: What I had been doing to my physical surroundings, God is doing in my life.

He’s packing up memories and knick-knacks that no longer need to be hanging around my heart. He’s trashing the unnecessary and obsolete thoughts that have developed over the decades. He’s relocating things that – although, they are functional – are not essential to my walk with Him. He is slowly repairing the dents and dings that have left scars on my heart, and He’s pulling up the weeds that are choking the seeds He’s planted in my soul.

And I’m not gonna lie. This year of transition and preparation is painful. But I put my hope in knowing the tears that I’ve shed as He removes, remodels and restores me are not tears that are shed in vain. They are the tears watering the soil He is tilling so that it will yield – not just a little fruit – but a harvest.

…Let us live in awe of the Lord our God,
for he gives us rain each spring and fall,
assuring us of a harvest when the time is right. (Jer. 5:24)

I noticed something pretty remarkable about age recently, and fortunately, it was something other than the fine lines an invisible artist has begun to paint around the corners of my eyes.

What I noticed was a shift in perspective in what constitutes a problem.

Now, before I continue, let me say that I realize this isn’t rocket science. I am certainly not the first person to observe this phenomenon. But go with me back in time for a second, and let’s look at what used to qualify as a problem in your world.

• Someone removing your pacifier left you wailing and sobbing.
• Not getting candy at the grocery store justified flailing on the ground and squealing at the top of your lungs.
• Breaking up with your first love, not fitting in, or having a zit on school picture day was a fate worse than death.
• The thought of not being accepted into the right college broke you out in hives as you contemplated the disaster your life would inevitability become.

Sadly, I wish I could say that over exaggerating life’s hiccups end when we cross over into our twenties, or even into our thirties, but sadly it does not – at least for me. I definitely have areas of concern that can (and often do) send me into the outer limits of anxiety, fear or despair.

But when I look back at the struggles of my youth, I cannot help but chuckle at the absurdity of the problems, and yet, I remember them feeling so real…so important…so monumental. And it’s left me wondering…

If God’s ways are not my ways, and God’s thoughts are not my thoughts (Isaiah 55:8) are my problems even problems at all?

Does God have the same type of perspective on my “adult” problem that I do on the little girl sniffling because her best friend hurt her feelings?

I’m also wondering what problem are you facing today. As a child of God, you have access to Almighty God (Eph. 2:18). Nothing is too hard for Him (Jer. 32:17)! Go boldly into His Presence (Heb. 4:16) asking Him – not only for his resources – but for His perspective as well.

My adult life has been peppered with bouts of anxiety and depression. (That’s such a nice, cheery way to start a post. Don’t you think?) In the past, I have been able to contribute it to a specific circumstance in my life. But lately, I’ve been blue, and I haven’t a clue as to why.

Not only have I been blue, but I’ve been incredibly anxious. I wake up almost every single morning nauseas and dreadful of what the day might bring. Nothing seems to satisfy me or ease my discontent. I have no energy. No appetite. I have waves of anxiety for no reason at all. It’s baffling, uncomfortable and almost paralyzing. I just want to feel normal again.

Or at least that is what I thought I wanted.

Now…I’m not quite so sure.

You see, I’ve been fascinated with the Holy Spirit, lately. I’ve been praying for God to fill me up with His Spirit, to teach me about who He is, and how He works. We know so little about Him, and yet He is predominately how the God-head interacts with us today. Does that seem ironic to anyone but me?

In my search to know the seemingly enigmatic Holy Spirit, I stumbled across a collection of sermons by A.W. Tozer aptly titled Mystery of the Holy Spirit and this sentence caught my attention:

“I am not sure anyone was ever filled with the Spirit without first having a time of disturbance and anxiety.”

Come again, A.W. What was that?

“…before [the Holy Spirit] can fill us, there must be a disturbance and an anxiety. Adam has to die.”

Think about this with me for a second.

Let’s say you have a box full of junk, but you want to make it a box full of treasures. In order to make it a box full of treasures, you have to empty the box of the junk. Right? You have to pour out the contents of the box in order to fill it with the things that are valuable.

It is the same with the Holy Spirit!

We cannot be filled by the Holy Spirit until we are empty of our self and of the things of this world: the junk.

Wait! There is more.

When God turns our boxes upside down to empty us out, our internal self screams in discomfort creating feelings of anxiety and distress. Y’all! This could change my life!

Eventually, the box has to run out of junk, right? Eventually, those feelings of anxiety and despair will disappear when the box is turned right side up. And then look what happens! We get filled with the treasure of the Holy Spirit!

“But when you reach that place of despair, when nobody can help you; when you’ve gone to the last person, you’ve written the last editor, and followed the last evangelist around, and hunted up the last fellow to counsel with him, and when nobody can help you any more you’re in a state of inward despair; that’s when you should never despair, because you’re near the kingdom. That is getting close, getting near the place where God can do something for you.”

Do you see it? Oh, please tell me that you see it!

We try so hard in our society to be comfortable, to not feel pain, to not hurt or be anxious. We seek counsel in anything – and from anyone – but God.

We talk to friends,
surf the internet,
distract ourselves with more and more activities.

We pop pills,
or drink another glass of wine,
or work longer hours.

We numb ourselves with the television,
or quit our jobs,
or move on to another relationship.

But what would happen if we welcomed the pain? What would happen if we embraced the opportunity to be emptied of the junk so that God could fill us with His Treasure?