Anthony Hopkins, Scary Movies, and Exorcising Our Lies

The Christian faith is the most exciting drama that ever staggered the imagination of man—and the dogma is the drama.

Dorothy Sayers, Letters to a Diminished Church

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

Jesus, John 8:36

True confession time. 

I love movies. 

And I really love scary movies.* 

Our lovingly built movie-enthusiast collection.

Give me Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho or Rear Window any time over any chick flick. I prefer Tremors over Twilight, Woman in Black over What Women Want, Shaun of the Dead over Steel Magnolias. In my brain, this is all obvious, but I’ve learned that, alas, this is not the case for everyone else. I’ve accidentally traumatized friends with my choices of what I thought was hilariously scary, and I’ve had the old eyebrow raised in my general direction many times over my latest scary movie find. I can only attribute my eclectic taste to family movie nights consisting of Star Wars and Indiana Jones (with eyes ALWAYS closed during the scene where the lid is lifted off the Ark of the Covenant—I don’t think I saw the whole thing till I was in my 20s, for reals) and movie nights as a teenager with my mom watching Hitchcock films and Wait Until Dark. I also fell in love with books like Jane Eyre and The Hound of the Baskervilles where the atmosphere is just as much as a character as Rochester or Watson. 

Thankfully, I found a husband who enjoys scary movies as much as myself, and over the past few years has introduced me to the genre of creature (i.e. GOOEY) movies, such as Alien, The Mist, The Host, and Anaconda. A whole new world of nail-biting, hiding behind a blanket, and  squealing in Ben’s ear opened up. Great fun, especially when you have sufficient snacks and you can turn on the lights whenever you need to. Also, watching something like Househunters or Jeeves and Wooster afterwards can help. 

Recently, I found myself pondering some unexpected food for thought raised by the scary movie, The Rite. It stars the ever-wonderful Anthony Hopkins as an exorcising Jesuit priest, with a cast including Ciaran Hinds and Toby Jones. BE STILL MY CHARACTER-ACTOR-LOVING-HEART. Major sidenote: this movie is NOT for everyone. It includes disturbing scenes of possession with some graphic dialogue. Because everyone’s tolerance level is different, I can’t recommend watching The Rite, unless this sort of thing is up your alley.**

Without trying to give too much away, the events lead up to a fateful and inevitable exorcism.*** While under possession, Character 1 begins to spew all kinds of lies to distract, frighten, and immobilize Character 2. What fascinated me the most was that the lies were the very sort we tell ourselves or begin to believe when things in our lives go wrong. The demon was accusing the other characters of individual faults and weaknesses, showering them with reasons to feel guilty and unworthy. They would have been so easy to believe, because these lies were shot through with truth. And isn’t that what we also fight against, no matter where the lies about ourselves come from? 

You are not a good friend, spouse, child, parent, employee. 

Remember that time you….? 

Because you struggle with this, you will never be that.

You don’t do enough of….

You are not good enough, worthy enough, beautiful enough.

You don’t deserve good things in your life.

You can’t make a real difference. 

Suffering and pain and sickness must mean you did something wrong, or maybe God has abandoned you.

There’s a reason people don’t treat you how you want, that he or she is not in your life anymore.

People are usually impressed OR dismayed by the sheer volume. 

And the list goes on and on. Even though the possessed are (hopefully) not shouting and screaming these lies at us, we hear them all the same, from many sources. And we start to believe lies tailor-made to us, and that’s how we can start to live. In shame, in fear, in regret, in depression. Immobilized and distracted. Here’s the glorious thing, though: these lies fall apart and are expelled when we trust and follow Jesus as King of the universe and of our hearts. When we believe that the Gospel is true, that God sent His one and only Son to rescue us from our brokenness and dark places because He loves us so deeply, this is when the lies begin to break and lose their hold on us. I have been a Christian for approximately 27 years, and I still need to hold on to the Gospel every day. Otherwise, things get, well, scary. And frightening, and confusing, and dark, just like the movies. 

When we can begin to catch glimpses of how our Creator sees us, created in His image and worthy of dignity and hope and purpose, the lies we’ve built our days on will crumble. We don’t have to be afraid when we don’t feel enough—in Christ, we are more than enough. The Apostle Paul, in his letters to the Romans, describes God as “…the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not (Romans 4:17).” God is the God of impossible transformation, of unthinkable change, even declaring our sin null and void. We are the ones being called into life and worthiness we couldn’t even imagine. When we see ourselves as primarily those who are loved, not as those who are not enough, our freedom is immense and whole. Because of Christ’s love and work in us, lies can become truths: 

You are a worthy and loved human being, whatever titles you hold: friend, spouse, child, parent, employee. John 3:16

Remember that time you….? It has no power or hold over you anymore. It is for freedom that Christ has set you free. Galatians 5:1

Even though you struggle with this, you are loved and being transformed into His image daily when you know Jesus. 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

You are designed both to receive love and to give love in your life. John 15:9-12

You can make a real difference, even if it’s hard to see. You are God’s fellow worker, not the only worker. 1 Corinthians 3:7-9

Suffering and pain are going to happen in this broken world, and Jesus promised He would be with you always, even to the end of the age, even to the end of yourself. Matthew 28:20

Even when people don’t treat you how you want, or when people drift from you, Jesus will never leave you or forsake you. Hebrews 13:5

Just another example of my magnificent taste. 

In The Rite, overcoming the lies of the demon was paramount for victory. And this is true for us as well—we must overcome and exorcise our pet lies. I am becoming more and more convinced that we need to understand God’s character and relationship to us before we can even begin to understand ourselves, before we can cast out the lies and the apathetic ways we see ourselves and others. We must let our own characters and lives and wills be shaped by His. As we follow after Jesus, soaking in His Word and meditating on His love and perfect delight in us, the light of His truth will illuminate all darkness. One of the most beautiful things that happens, when we accept ourselves as He accepts us, is that we will begin to see others in the same way. If I am loved as I am, wholly and unconditionally, if His love changes everything for me, it must be true for you, too! This is freedom, this is grace. This is where transformation happens! True, real, deep forgiveness can happen. Honest hospitality can happen. We can make peace with our pasts, and look forward in hope, despite our circumstances. We can start to see others with the eyes of Christ, and He will use us to offer His healing and love and welcome into the great, messy, loud, madcap, incredible family of God. And as Jesus Himself promised, the world will indeed know we are His by the love we show each other. It’s time to throw ourselves into the glorious business of knowing God, of delighting in Him because He delights in us. When we truly know Him, everything will be transformed, changed, made new. 

*My love is probably equally divided between scary movies and British TV. That, however, is another post. 

These are my library flicks right now, because OBVIOUSLY.

**Now, there are possession movies and there are possession movies. I refuse to watch The Exorcist, because even for me, there are limits. With the popularity of films like The Amityville Horror to The Conjuring, from The Omen to Insidious, Hollywood and the general public clearly have a special fascination with the supernatural. As a believer in Jesus, I hold the view that while we have to be careful with the supernatural, because things of the occult are dangerous and misleading, Jesus is King over this world and everything in it, including demons and the supernatural. We don’t have to be afraid of anything, because Jesus has defeated all this world’s evils by His death and resurrection. We each need to be aware of our limitations and boundary lines, not causing a brother or sister to stumble. I sincerely hope this post, with all its mentions of scary movies (I don’t recommend watching any of these movies, unless they are well within one’s comfort zone), does not cause anyone to stumble. (Romans 14:1-23). 

***Another sidenote: most movies or shows featuring exorcism usually drive me bonkers, because most of the priests or pastors don’t have the confidence or the faith or the call needed to handle such situations. I can only suppose this is to up the drama and suspense, however inaccurate. We recently watched the series, Midwinter of the Spirit, which showed much promise. But the vicar depended too much on her own strength and gave in to fear, instead of readying herself with prayer and humility and faith and complete reliance on God. There was always the fear and possibility that Evil would triumph over Good, and all of Christendom would fall. To which I say, well, really. DID YOU NOT READ THE BIBLE AT ALL. 

Saying Yes

Long lay the world in sin and e'er pining

'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

-O Holy Night

And Mary said, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord, let it be to me according to your word.”

-Luke 1:38

In just three days, we will be celebrating the birth of Jesus. In the middle of the darkest days of the year, we remember His holy arrival into our world. His birth was the bright fulfillment of promises centuries-old, the redeeming of all our darkness. By choosing such a human entrance, we see how God used people to help usher in the Hope of the world. Of course, we can’t help but think about Mary, the mother of Jesus, chosen by God to carry the Messiah. 

I think we can all agree that Mary, the mother of Jesus, was a strong lady. She was a spiritual body-builder, a faith-infused heavyweight. And not only that, we have every reason to believe she was a teenager at this time. A teenager! I am thinking back to Sarah, age 13 or 14, and before the 90s bangs, tapered jeans, and plaid shirts cloud my vision, I see someone who is still figuring things out. Still figuring out what the world is about, what is important in life, how friendship works, discovering likes and dislikes, and figuring out boys. But mostly giggling about that last thing. Even though that was all RATHER a while ago, I’m guessing it’s pretty much the same for most teenagers today. So it’s pretty wild to not just picture or imagine what happened to Mary, but to know that it actually happened. Sure, it was a different world, a different culture back then, but she was still so young. What can we learn about this teenager with monumental vision, with iron strength?

What we can safely say about Mary is that she had faith. And lots of it. In Luke, we are told that she found favor with God. What a beautiful phrase that is! She found favor with God. In Hebrews 11:6, the author writes, “Without faith it is impossible to please Him.” God had given Mary ridiculous amounts of faith, and she must have cultivated it in her own heart, in her own life. With this bedrock faith, she was able to not just accept the angel’s crazy announcement that she, a virgin, would give birth through the Holy Spirit to the Savior of the world, but to welcome this news. She welcomed God’s miraculous interruption, God’s glorious upheaval in her life. 

Throughout scripture, people had all kinds of reactions to God’s stepping into their lives and asking to be let in. Noah said yes when God told him to build an ark. Moses said yes when God asked him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. The Apostle Paul, when God blinded him on the way to Damascus, when he was going to round up Christians and have them put to death, obeyed Jesus’s instruction to enter the city and wait, blind with everything he knew turned upside down. 

Mary’s response to the angel is also incredibly inspiring to me. I am imagining what it would be like to be an engaged (which was pretty much halfway legally married back then) young woman, and then all of a sudden be mysteriously PREGNANT. Even though she knew what those around her would think and say about that scandalous news, she still welcomed God’s interruption. Mary’s life was set. She was engaged to a good man, to Joseph, and she would be a good wife, a good mother. But when the angel appeared instead, not just putting her life on hold, but changing it radically, forever, she was humble and said yes. 

Shortly after the angel’s life-altering visit, Mary went to visit her also-pregnant, much-older cousin, Elizabeth. This was a beautiful meeting, for when Elizabeth heard Mary, the Holy Spirit inspired her to bless Mary, the mother of her Messiah, and the Redeemer of the whole world. Mary responded by blessing the Lord Himself, for His goodness and mercy to her. For His choosing of her, for Hs finding favor with her. In her Psalm-like blessing, she tells of the Lord’s mighty blessings and justice and fulfilled promises. Oh, she’s still a teenager, obviously. She is still that same young woman, still figuring some things out. But she knew her Lord, she knew the true story of the Messiah’s coming, and she believed that that history was unfolding inside her very womb. 

That we all could have such faith! To welcome God’s good interjections in our lives. To embrace His life-changing presence in our stories. That when God asks us to do something, even something that will make other people shake their heads at us, even something that means our own plans change or fade completely, we would say a glorious yes. That we would identify with Mary, saying to whatever God has for us, “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it be to me as you have said.” 

Some days, in my own story, it feels like God is asking me to build an ark of impossible proportions. Some days, it seems like God has struck me blind and I am waiting in the dark for Him to come to me and heal me and send me out to do His work. Most days, it’s really hard to welcome the interruptions of what He’s allowed in my life. I long for more faith, for more hope in the God I have loved and followed since childhood. I long to be more like Mary, who looked clearly at her completely changed circumstances, and praised God for those very changes. I want to be able to magnify Him in the middle of exactly what makes life difficult. I want to praise Him for the good things He’s done, that I so often overlook and take for granted. Like Mary, I want to join in to God's good work in the world by saying yes in faith. And who knows how we can change the world just by saying yes?  

Wild Hopes and Bright Lights

No more let sins and sorrows grow

Nor thorns infest the ground

He comes to make

His blessings flow

-Joy to the World

For to us a child is born,

    to us a son is given;

and the government shall be upon his shoulder,

    and his name shall be called 

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and of peace

    there will be no end,

on the throne of David and over his kingdom,

    to establish it and to uphold it

with justice and with righteousness

    from this time forth and forevermore.

 The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

-Isaiah 9:6-7

There is always an invitation to fear. 

Fear is always with us, always immediately outside the door, always asking to be let in. Day in, day out. Year after year. Breath after breath. Reports of war and terror and unrest and a planet that is tearing itself apart fill our screens and minds. Difficult people and estranged relationships and things said or unsaid, things done and undone, weigh heavy on our hearts. We can also be filled with fear at our own lives, in the confusion and the mundane and the unfulfilled dreams—the sense that this isn't how it was meant to be. We face fear of the unknown in the future before us; we try to leave fear behind with our past choices and circumstances. Fear is always waiting for us. 

What is the remedy in a world so dark, in hearts so easily bent? Can there be one, or are we all so tied to fear? 

In this season of Advent, we wait. We wait in the dark, we hope in the dark. 

We join the ancient practice of preparing our hearts for the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Before a child can be born, there is the long wait. Before a son can be given to us, we had to prepare. Before the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace could come to us, there were years and generations of waiting. Before the government could be put on his shoulder, there was darkness and fear. Before the increase of His kingdom and peace, there was the fear of not knowing. There was only waiting. There was only hoping.  We wait with the world and we look forward to the joy of remembering His birth and what it means for all of us.

Fears are transformed in December; we stake our claim that hope and love and the gift of a Savior is stronger and larger than the darkness of our twisted world, of our twisted hearts. Anxieties are put to rest with the birth of a virgin’s son. Disappointments and discouragements are melted in the cry of the newborn King. Hopes are renewed, faith is reborn, and we find our joy in the light of his coming. 

So in a kind of wild hope, we set up our lighted Christmas trees. We hang up bright lights around our windows, defying the dark days and long nights. We decorate and bake and shop and plan and celebrate those we love. We reread the ancient Scriptures and remember the story of Jesus’ birth together. We hope and long and yearn for peace—for our friends and family, for our world, and in our own hearts. 

And yet, we do not just simply wait in a kind of wishful thinking. We can bring His kingdom to light no matter where we are. We who believe that the government is upon his shoulder, we hold his glory in our hearts and lives and relationships. We who believe Jesus is the Prince of Peace for all—we are called to continuously mirror his joy and reconciliation and love. We cling to this Prince of Peace instead of all our fears. In this way, as the old songs say, both the hopes and the fears of all the years are met in the light of His glory and grace. 

A Prayer

Shine Your light so all can see it 

Lifted up, 'cause the whole world needs it 

Love has come, what joy to hear it 

He has overcome, He has overcome

-SMS (Shine), the David Crowder Band

but these are written that so that you may believe 

that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, 

and that by believing you may have life in his name. 

John 20:31

Jesus, in this time of fear and unrest in our world, brought on by hate and zeal and belief in all the wrong places and things, may you be King. May you guide our responses and our prayers and our actions and behaviors. Be our Teacher, our Comforter. Use us to bring peace, as you brought peace. Strengthen us to mourn with those who mourn. Blot out our fears and our worries and our anxieties.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

Jesus, in your life and your death and your resurrection, you teach us how to live.

You are King of life, and of death. 

You are King of our weeping, and of our rejoicing. 

You are King of our fears, and of our peace. 

You are King of our doubts, and of our belief. 

You are King when we are locked in inactivity, and when we are out in the world in your name. 

We see your loving response to us when we are overcome, in the book of John, chapter 20. We see it in the story of Mary Magdalene, who was inconsolable after your crucifixion. She found your tomb empty, and raced to tell your disciples who came to see for themselves. 

After they examined your vacant grave, and left, scratching their heads, Mary did not have the strength to leave and move on. She leaned on your tomb, and wept. In her grief, you chose to bless her—the first to see you in your resurrection. The angels asked her, “Why are you weeping?” Mary’s only thought was to be with you, even if just your empty bodily shell, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When you then appeared to her, her grief was still too much for her to see you fully, and you, in all your gentleness and grace, repeated the angels’ question. Deep in grief, she still did not recognize you, until you said her name. Until you said her name, “Mary.” Then, only then, did she see you, and her grief melted away like frost meeting the morning sun. Only when you know us and name us, can our grief and our weeping cease in the sheer surprising joy of your presence. Only when you meet us where we are can we be whole. Only when we embrace you as King of our grief, can we know rejoicing and fulness and abundant life. You do not erase our grief, but you sustain us in the midst of it with your very self. Mary’s grief was real, just as your death was real. The separation between yourself and us was real. Your resurrection brought you back to us, and you choose to bless us, just as you blessed Mary outside your empty tomb. Say to us our names, and capture our hearts, blowing out our grief like a candle. 

Before the disciples had seen you, before they were bolstered and strengthened by your renewed presence, they hid. They hid behind locked doors, no match for the strength of Rome or the powerful religious leaders, and certainly no match for you. When you appeared to them, they were full of fear, confusion, and doubt. Instead of reprimanding them for their lack of faith, their lack of decisive action, you blessed them, and you spoke peace to them. You showed them your pierced hands, your lacerated feet. You built them back up, and you confirmed their place with you, with the Father. You met each of them in their brokenness, in their terrified hearts, just as you meet each of us even today. Even though we too hide behind our struggles and doubts and fears, they are also no match for you. You bind up our wounds, our pains, because your love for us outweighs even death itself. As you sent the disciples out to spread your love and soothe the brokenhearted, so you send us now, today. 

In all our grief, our fears, our doubts, you come to us through the locked doors of our hearts and our minds, and you stand among us, and you both speak and breathe peace into our fearful places. You know our individual struggles, and you meet us in them. Meet us now, and use us to meet the world in all its fear and terror, and breathe your peace to us once again. 

For the Time Being

Well, gentle readers. Here we are. 

It’s now been two months and almost a week since I quit my job as Regaled Mammogram Aide and became a Full Time Well I’m Not Sure What. But who’s counting? The Yowling Beast of fibromyalgia has claimed my full attention, for the time being. FOR THE TIME BEING. I must insist upon this point. Not only to you, dear readers, but to myself as well. 

I’ve been employed pretty much since basically Forever, with a few bouts and weeks of non-employment. There was this one time in 2008 where I was without a job for ONE MONTH, and there was this other time in 2011 where I was seeking work FOR SIX MONTHS, and I nearly died. I’m not a workaholic, mind you (as soon as I clock out…SARAH OUT! drop mic). I just like having something mildly productive to do and have something to show for the day. Oh, and the paychecks are good too. I like to eat. But more on that later. 

All this to say, the past couple months have been…weird. 

I am not kidding you when I say it took me a solid THREE WEEKS to calm down after my last day of work. Like I could finally relax and accept all this TIME as my own. And allow it to be a good thing. 

You see, it took me a looooong time to accept the need to quit my job. As my long-suffering and handsome spouse can attest. I didn’t want to GIVE IN. Accept defeat. I’d been fighting through the pains, the fatigue, the brain fog, the lack of good times with friends and family for sooooo long that I was determined to JUST KEEP GOING. Stick it to the man. Pull myself along. Prove to myself, and to those around me, that I am STRONG ENOUGH and GOOD ENOUGH and all these health concerns can just shove it. 

But regardless of the rest, the exercise, the bouts of physical therapy, the madness of trying out new medicines like swimsuits in January, the countless doctor’s visits and subsequent disappointments, the different diets, the fevered research on the internet and the library, the scaling back of activities and commitments, procedures and recovery times, I just couldn’t. Not anymore. One more thing had to give, and that was my….JOB. SAY IT AIN’T SO. 

Accepting the ever-pressing need to slow down even more and become a full time Stay at Home Person was hard enough. But accepting others’ reactions was TRICKY. Well-meaning people shared their very real concerns about this decision. This was a huge thing, after all, and there was potential to be concerned. Would I ever leave the couch after this? I still struggle with those worries, because of course I’d already had them myself.  And I’ll be honest, there have been a lot of days since then that I haven’t left the couch or the house. Because I’m chronically in pain. These days have crushed me more than the actual pain, the actual fatigue. Because I get afraid that my whole life will become not leaving the couch. Really afraid. 

So in the past couple months, I’ve watched a lot of tv from my couch, yes. Bravo for the Property Brothers. I cite them for not going clinically insane. But! I’ve also read a LOT. Still working on my BBC Top 100 Novels project. I read Dune by Frank Herbert this summer. That is a whole other post, my friend. A whole other post. Like the Seven Labors of Hercules, I labored my way through The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt (author of The Secret History which I DO LOVE). Cannot resist side note here: Seriously, Pulitzer Prize Committee? I also read The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguru, which made me cry and feel all the feels. I even read some NON-FICTION, which should come as a surprise to all of us. Reread some Frederick Buechner, which is always refreshing, and For the Love by Jen Hatmaker, deliciously hilarious and thought-provoking. 

My house is also a little more organized. I couldn’t help it. I had more time to see what needed doing. I went through books and clothes and kitchen things and donated and consigned a TON. Golly, that felt good. And I had time to decide I needed to do a detox and elimination program, which Ben and I both currently doing. Day 5, people. Day 5. Green smoothies galore. So far, nothing to report but many dirtied dishes, new and very tasty cooking adventures (chicken stock from scratch?! What are you serious??) and questionable bathroom times. But it is ONLY Day 5 so far. Hold fast. 

Insert Necessary Food Thoughts Here. Another thing that the Fibro Beast has taken is my LOOSE PAIR OF JEANS THAT I SAVE FOR EMERGENCIES. Take my gluten and dairy? Whatever. Make me question conventional cleaning and beauty products? I don’t even care anymore. Make me go without coffee for this cleanse? I do care, but WHAT MUST BE MUST BE. But MY EMERGENCY JEANS??? This is CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT. I accept that I now must make up REASONS to move about, and I DO. Currently able to “exercise” (or as I say, GENTLY MOVE) more than I ever have with this blasted condition. More days than not, you can find me huffing on my stationary bike or getting lapped at the track by the Santa Claus with the huge headphones. And now I’m doing this freaking CLEANSE, FIBRO BEAST. Why take my fat pants? I am about to send a strongly worded letter. I can’t just leave the house in yoga pants ALL THE TIME. Sometimes even I need to look presentable. And trying to walk around in jeans that feel like a denim Iron Maiden is not helping matters any, socially or spiritually. 

So there you have it. The past couple months in a sort of nutshell. But not cashew or peanut—those are NOT on the List for my detox. I didn’t even get to reading through Ephesians and Colossians and remembering the Gospel all over again, and how it’s true now, it’s true for my chronic pain self, and for everyone. I didn’t get to having my friends and family over, who saved me from myself time and time again. Where would we be without Bachelor in Paradise nights, or evenings spent discussing what actors from which British detective shows were in THIS OTHER THING, or hot afternoons on the cool porch talking about life, or delicious plum cobblers dropped off after we had to put the family kitty down? What I’m trying to say is that even though the past months have been hard in every way I expected, it’s been full of surprising graces? I’m looking at you, everyone in my life. I’m looking at you, and I thank you. And the Property Brothers and Tyra Banks and Gordon Ramsay. 

This is my life now. 

I found this gem of a dedication in a used bookstore Agatha Christie novel, and that's why I bought it. 

Sometimes I amaze even myself with my excellent taste. 

You know that's watermelon simple syrup for gin and tonics, right? 

There was this one time we took my niece to the sand castle competition  That's Jaws, of course. 

Dang right I took a picture of a squirrel at the track. Dang right. 

Hope in Focus

You can dance in a hurricane, but only if you’re standing in the eye. 

-Brandi Carlile, The Eye

Since we have such a hope, we are very bold. 

-The Apostle Paul, 2 Corinthians 3:12

I’ve been thinking a lot about hope lately—how necessary and hard it is to hold close. 

Sometimes hope is a hot potato. You just need to not drop it, or it’ll fall on the floor and get dirty and smashed. But on the other hand, maybe hope will burn us if we hang on it too long. If hope is not realized, not seen, will it harm us, dent us, make us misshapen? And if hope is too hot to handle, does that mean it’s just too much to hope for? 

Maybe hope is more like one of my lost earrings. I know it’s there somewhere—I just can’t find it. Must be buried in a drawer or under some furniture. It will look really nice when I finally find it, use it how it was meant to be used. Someday it will surface. But for now, I’ll just have to live without it. 

Brightening up our movie collection with happy lights. 

This elusive thing called hope seems, then, so dear and fragile. It’s also one of the great facets of the faith-the Apostle Paul says that after everything else in life, three things remain: faith, hope, and love. So in addition to being a bit slippery to hang on to, it’s essential to following Jesus as we travel this world. Makes it a bit tricky, doesn’t it? Hope gets rained out, gets benched when we need it the most. Circumstances and choices collapse on top of our wishes and desires, snuffing them out, breaking them in half. But without hope, we merely limp along. We get by. And we wonder where the abundant life, the good life went. We then set aside our expectations so we won’t keep stumbling over them. Hopes may get moved to a “someday thing” or a far-off thing in our minds, and we move on to functioning. 

When life gets rumpled, when it gets stuck in a seemingly endless montage of gray days and rough nights no matter the weather, how do we relight the candle of hope? How do we set it bravely on top of our lives? How do we make our lives receptive to hope and expectation? 

I think that it does come back to putting one foot in the other, even though it seems like a poor substitute for felt hope, for realized expectations. At first it seems almost false to “just function,” as though we’re putting on an act. But when hope is absent or faint, it makes sense we must practice having it. We must practice hope, even when it feels foreign or nonsensical. Just how I know my lost earring is there somewhere, we must live in the reality of hope, even though we can’t always feel it or see it. When we visit with friends, we are practicing hope. When we read a favorite book or start a new hobby or project, we are practicing hope. When we say “I love you” or “I care about you” to the loved ones in our lives, we are practicing hope. When we plan our future with open hands and open minds, knowing that things can change at any time, we can do so in hope. 

When we are practicing hope and expectation, we can more easily look to the Maker of Hope and Peace. We can remember that Jesus is indeed the Author and Creator of Hope. We can remember all the things He’s done for us in the past and use them to light our way. We can look forward to what He’s going to do in the future with us and through us. When we don’t even know what to hope for, we can rest in the fact that Jesus intercedes for us and knows what we need. We can rest in His love, knowing that He can use us in all our weaknesses, even when we don’t have much strength that we can give. Although we can’t summon hope like a magic spell, we can ground ourselves in remembrance and thankfulness. And when we do, I have a suspicion that hope will begin to bloom, as they say, where we’re planted. 

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.

A Simple Hike

These boots were made for walking.
-Nancy Sinatra

A simple hike. That’s all it was supposed to be. Just a nice, little meandering trail around the delights of Mt. Constitution on Orcas Island. Ben and I went camping last weekend, and we thought naively that we should leave the safety and perfect bliss of our smoky campfire for a late morning stroll. We put out the fire with more than a touch of regret and found the nearest trail. There wasn’t exactly a mile sign on the post pointing THAT WAY to the scenic beauty of Cascade Falls, but our map clearly indicated it couldn’t be THAT far. So we set off--Ben with his handy-dandy backpack filled with water for wussies (um, me) and honey-roasted peanuts for munching purposes.

Um. Well. Yes. I was just fine! I toddled up the trail like I’d been doing it forever…no heavy breathing, no sweat pouring down my back. Then the first three minutes went by. I quickly lost my sweatshirt, tying it around my waist like a cool kid from the 90s. Which I totally was, by the way. Duh. And the trail just kept going,  you guys. It wound up and around and down and through gorgeous valleys of dense green summer trees and bushes. I found myself breathing deeply…then huffing heartily, then gasping for seemingly elusive air after the steep hills. Thankfully, it was just Ben, me, and some deer who observed us rather in a rather askance manner. I probably scared them a mile off with my Darth-Vader breathing. Oh, and there were plenty of slugs. And ants. I would be terribly embarrassed if any of my friends, co-workers, acquaintances, or any other human found me so terribly overwhelmed by some mere exertion of the limbs. And of course, I’m telling you all about it, but whatever.

The thing is…my body has been very tired the last three years. Overwhelmed by black mold, stress, and allergies, it’s required a lot of rest time. So it makes sense I’m not quite ready to run up a trail or hike a mountain just yet. It’s hard to give myself grace and not really beat up on my poor sweating achy body. Let me tell you, though, it felt great to move around at last, at least for the first couple miles. To be out in the gorgeous nature of Orcas Island, God’s playground. The trees were so rich with summery goodness, the air so fresh, the streams and waterfalls so foamy and bubbly. Although my legs turned to pudding very quickly and I had to rest and take a nap (I would have taken a nap anyway…let’s face it) after we got back, it was totally worth it. And sitting with my feet stretched out towards the fire that evening, I felt on the top of the world. I conquered my fears that I couldn’t do a smallish hike, that I’d give out and Ben would have to call a helicopter to get me back to the campsite. You never know. Next time, I just think I’ll make sure I know long the walk is before I set out.