Worship and the Lost Week

 “Bertie,” she said—in part and chattily—“it is young men like you who make the person with the future of the race at heart despair!”

    “What-ho!” I said. 

    “Cursed with too much money, you fritter away in selfish idleness a life which might have been made useful, helpful, and profitable. You do nothing but waste your time on frivolous pleasures. You are simply an anti-social animal, a drone—“ She fixed me with a glittering eye. 

-P.G. Wodehouse, Scoring off Jeeves

“Be still, and know that I am God.

    I will be exalted among the nations,

    I will be exalted in the earth!”

-Psalm 46:10

I have been surviving the past few days on Pamprin and kid’s chocolate rice crisps cereal. No joke. 

My stomach has felt as stable as a ping pong ball in a free-falling elevator for about 95% of the last four days. SO FUN, YOU GUYS. 

The hot water bottle has been a permanent fixture, a constant companion. My one complaint about the new and very fancy BLUE bottle is that I can’t get it hot enough. I need it to feel like it’s been recently fetched from somewhere deep within the gates of Hades.

I watched the remainder of Half-Price Paradise and Lakefront Bargain Hunt on Netflix. Now if that’s not desperation for distraction, I’m not sure what is. 

As for the rest of my bodily ills, I won’t enlighten you with the details, as you may be trying to drink a lovely cup of coffee or eat a muffin while you read this. Also, my dignity (slip-shod as it may be) won’t allow it. I AM A LADY, DANGIT. 

So it’s been quite the WEEK, let me tell you. I am finally starting to feel more human, but thinking about this week is like looking down after you’ve climbed The Cliffs of Insanity. Or like how you feel after getting off a roller coaster. WOOZY. But ALIVE. Yesterday I managed to stumble out to the balcony for the first time in a few days, and it was wonderful to sit in the sun, feel the breeze, be surrounded by my still-alive flowers, and just be outside. It was so great that I did it again this morning. Just changing location, even by a few feet, can be everything. 

So often, when times like these hit, it’s all we can do to simply hang on, grit our teeth, and pray for a better day tomorrow. And that’s ok. I offered up very simple prayers this week, consisting mostly of “help” and “please.” I also played songs to remind me of God’s love and presence and help, because I need reminders of those things in the middle of trouble. Troubles and sorrows of all kinds threaten to keep our heads down, instead of looking to Jesus in all our circumstances. 

It’s also weeks like this when I’m finally able to come to, in a sense, and be MAJORLY PUT OUT that I was not able to do more, or take steps towards work or health, or be productive. You know, ACTION. Because that’s what my culture values and praises, and totally applauds. Both in and out of the church. And while it’s true that faith without works is dead (James 2:17), there are many kinds of works, aren’t there? God treasures it when we do ANYTHING for Him, even giving a cup of cold water to a child (Matthew 10:42). Also, I’ve been reading in the book of Revelation lately and was reminded that there are creatures that exist to fly around the Throne of God just to worship Him. Just to sing His praise, just to profess the goodness of the Lord. Day and night, they NEVER cease to sing, NEVER cease to give God glory (Revelation 4:6-11). It’s a beautiful and terrifying and mysterious look into God’s presence. 

Whatever else we may think of the book of Revelation*, this is a powerful picture of worship, and it gives me great hope. Because there are days when I wish I could be out, DOING things for God, saving the world, etc. You know, the usual things that my Purpose Driven generation wants to be doing. But God has such a different and gorgeous idea of what “doing” things for Him means, and that changes Every Single Thing. When I’m stuck in my house, pinned to the couch by pain, I can still worship Him. I can still praise Him. Like those creatures who fly around the Throne with wings to cover their hands and feet, I can proclaim the ultimate reality of the holiness and worthiness and goodness and power of God. From my couch. If that’s not transformation, I’m not sure what is. If that’s not redemption of some pretty miserable circumstances, I’m not sure what is. When I can stop focusing at my problems for a moment, and gaze at the beauty of the Lord, my problems don’t disappear, but they are redeemed.

Of course, the skeptics and the pessimists will ask why praise a God who lets me be in mysterious pain, who could change it all with one word, one wave of His hand? Why should I thank Him even though He doesn’t stop my troubles? This is an age-old question, of course. And I of course struggle with my attitude and my own questions constantly. But here is the thing: I know God is with me. I know He has supported me through my whole life. I know He has rescued me from my twisted dark places, and has fully and completely reconciled me to Himself. I know exactly how He has changed me. I know He promised we will all have trouble and suffering, but He also promised He will never leave us or forsake us. I know He is Goodness and Beauty and Peace and Love Himself. I know He is the Creator and Redeemer of this world. And as Revelation reminds us, He is coming soon to finish His redemptive work. And it will be beautiful and perfect and we will all be whole because we will be fully with Him. 

This is why I can praise Him exactly where I’m at, no matter what is happening. He is, like the four living creatures sing, holy and worthy. I am filled with joy at the thought that I too get to praise Him, no matter what I am or am not. Jesus told the Samaritan woman in John 4 that the Father is looking for worshipers, who will worship Him in spirit and truth (John 4:23). Not in activity and busy-ness, not in lists of good deeds accomplished. But in spirit, in truth. In trusting Him, in seeking Him in everything we do. When we know Him, our praise will naturally overflow and magnify the Lord in all His goodness to all the world. In the middle of the mess, the chaos, the broken bits and dashed dreams, He is working. He is Immanuel, God with Us.

*I’ve been reading the most wonderful book on this last book of the New Testament: Joy in Our Weakness, by Marva J. Dawn. I love, love this author. She has a wonderful book on illness called Being Well When We’re Ill, which has changed my perspective on being a Christian with physical sickness. Dawn is a theologian with many degrees AND has a host of chronic illnesses herself—I am so thankful to have read her books. Check her out!

It really is FANCY,  isn't it? For a water bottle, I mean. 

I know you all needed an update on these beauties. 

This is REALITY, and it's all good. 

We Get to be Ok

Well I know that you heard a lot about
Things you can't control
So many things we like to have
We just cannot hold
You gotta be kind to yourself

She And Him - Me And You

In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
For you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

Psalm 4:8


Health burn-out.

It’s a real thing.

Because I’m living with fibromyalgia and endometriosis, I am now an avid list-maker, symptom-researcher, tip-reader, and pain-documenter. I've picked up numerous tricks for dealing with my set of circumstances. Avoiding large amounts of sugar seems to help. I've been working on my water intake, which for this coffee-loving girl is a JOB and a HALF. Taking supplements on a regular daily basis makes a huge difference, too--and I've never been one for schedules. I make a lot of random to-do lists-on backs of receipts, in small notebooks, on ripped out sheets of paper--my brain is often foggy and if I don’t write things down, well, they may be lost FOREVER. I read a lot about what works for other folks with fibromyalgia, what doesn't work for them. I try a lot of things-eating coconut oil, sipping on apple cider vinegar, stretching gently, avoiding wheat and dairy, soaking in Epsom salts, and resting as much as I can. My most recent health project is a daily fibro log, where I document levels of pain and fatigue, noting activities and what I eat.

It’s very, very easy to focus most of my energy on getting well, on feeling better, on finding new things to try. Too easy. After all, it’s a good thing to want to improve one’s health, right? When you feel good, you can do more, be more, see more, experience more. Our culture values busyness and activity and accomplishments. There seems to be no room for rest without movement, for space to be ill, or encouragement to do what you need to do if it‘s outside the norm. Sometimes it can feel like if you can’t take a selfie or fire off a round of jealousy-inducing pictures or statuses, you really have nothing to offer. What can a physically limited person like me hope to offer the world? Or even offer to my little corner of the world, to my friends, to my family, to my co-workers, to my community?

It’s during this frenzied line of thinking that I need to just take a freaking moment. And breathe. In. And. Out. Repeat.

Because I believe that everyone has worth and value regardless of what they can produce, I suppose that has to go for me, too. That even though I am researching my brains out and trying new things constantly to feel well, I still get to be where I’m at. I can still rest and enjoy life even though I will always be searching for wellness. I can shed the false guilt that comes along with having to be still. I will give myself a break from thinking about health and just live life how it is right now. Balancing the reality of fibro with responsibilities and goals and dreams will probably always be in the cards. When I calm down enough to realize I’m still An OK Person, it’s easier to see the ways I am doing well and taking care of myself and being available to the people to around me. Heck, I can even see how this stupid fibro thing has prompted me towards more gentleness and empathy and humility. My expectations are becoming, ever so slowly, more realistic. I am letting others help me more often; I am savoring good times with my favorite people more. I see how much I need Jesus and faith and prayer and grace and other people more and more, and that is a brilliant thing.

Downcast

Every inch of you is perfect, from the bottom to the top.
-Meghan Trainor, All About that Bass

[…] My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you […] deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.

-Psalm 42: 6-7


I wore my new leopard-print shoes today, for the second day in a row.

It was highly necessary.

I had a doctor’s appointment at 7:30...in the AM. The AM, I tell you. The morning. After a sketchy-at-best night’s sleep, tossing and turning and listening to the trains running along Bellingham Bay all night long, I stumbled out of bed at a very ungodly hour and put my best face forward. And my favorite new shoes. Facing one’s lady doctor that early is no small endeavor, and you gotta be prepared. Knowing that morning is not my best time of day-ha!-I wrote down all my questions, recent symptoms, and advice from the internet on how to get your doctor to listen to you. Be specific. Be descriptive. When does it hurt? What makes it feel better? I found myself having to be more than usually reflective on my chronic pelvic pain. Seeing my monthly woes listed out in plain black and white made me feel even more desperate to have some answers.

I’m glad I had my new shoes on. Leopard-printed courage. The news is not conclusive, but it’s still not the best news I’ve ever received. High levels of hormones due to my increasing age (whaaaaaaaaaaa?) and/or endometriosis.

ENDOMETROSIS???

Another chronic pain condition? On top of my fibromyalgia? Areyouserious.

I admit I’ve had my suspicions for some time, but to hear it as a real possibility from my lady doctor makes it kinda SCARY and REAL. After I woke up a little more after my appointment, the reality sunk in a little more and I had to hold back tears more than once today.

It’s discouraging, you know? You try, and you try, and you try. You pray. Your husband is wonderful and takes such care of you. Your friends and family gather and love on you. You fight through pain and exhaustion until you can’t. You take your supplements, drink your filtered water, heave yourself on the exercise bike, and take many naps. And yet, the body fails. And yet, courage fails. And yet, there are still no easy answers, easy solutions. And yet, there are still many struggles ahead.

So I find myself downcast today, this first day of Fall, this day of imperative cute shoes, this day of glorious, delicious rain. I find myself utterly incapable of the task ahead of me-living life in this new realization of more chronic suckiness. I find myself without bravery or guts today when it comes to facing my pain. All day long, in the midst of foggy shock and disappointment, I find myself clinging to God, to His promises. Remembering that all can be well with my soul, because He is with me. I find myself having to grit my teeth, and choose that His grace is truly and really sufficient in my great weakness. That His light can shine through this very broken jar of clay. That because I have hope in Christ, I am actually very bold. 

I am moving through life right now in one of the great and terrifying paradox of Christianity-when we are weak, then we are strong. Hope is shining through in leopard print flats, faith and grace, and the love of others, but for today, it’s ok to be a little bit downcast.