I was going to wait till this weekend to write about this week’s five minute friday topic, then I suddenly got an idea and decided to go ahead. I’ll post the blog I’ve been working on tomorrow instead. Woo!
Today’s topic:
Somedays you have to be your own cheerleader.
An advocate for yourself. Your own friend first.
You know on airplanes when they say “put your own oxygen mask on before helping others with theirs”? It could apply to life too.
You have to cheer for yourself– take care of yourself– before you can take care of anyone else. If I can’t cheer for myself, how can I cheer and back up anyone else?
i mentioned tonight on the #fmfparty twitter hangout that I took 2 naps today. while post-college has given me ample time to nap (and I love me some naps), this has been a daily occurance for about 3 weeks now. Every day, I wake up with no energy. Zero. Without doing anything to warrant it, i fall into bed or the couch into a nap. And this has been happening every. day. since I came home from school.
I’m not busy or have a ton of things I do every day to warrant a nap– I’m home with the dogs all day. yet as soon as I have a minute to myself, instead of doing chores or things I should be doing, I pass out. And i wake up exhausted.
At first I thought I might be catching up on sleep after a restless few weeks of crazy college and graduation madness. But when I wake up, I wake up more tired. Fatigued. No energy whatsoever.
I realized that this was a problem that no one could fix but me. I can’t help anyone from this fatigued, energy-less state.
So, as much as I HATE asking for help– as much as I HATE doing things for me (because I hate feeling selfish), I knew I had to be my own cheerleader and advocate and reach out for some help.
So I emailed my doctor.
Right before graduation, my antidepressant got upped 10 milligrams. I didn’t start taking it until I got home– when the crazy fatigue/nap-o-rama started. I guessed that this could be a side effect of the new dosage. So, I talked. And I’m talking to her tomorrow about either switching medicine or fiddling with the dosage again.
Because I have to take care of myself before I cheer anyone else on– even if I hate having to cheer for myself at all.
When it comes to my faith, and the habits/ rituals of my faith, there are a few things I consider myself to be decently good at.
I love service, helping others. I like praying for people and encouraging them (praying/encouraging myself, another story for another blog). I love to engage in worship, whether through music or other creative channels.
There is one area of faith, however, where I sorely lack.
I struggle with reading and knowing scripture.
I know names of people and basic story lines. I know the Gospel and the story/timeline of Jesus well enough, and could name some important parables. I know most themes of the Psalms like the back of my hand (anxiety and Psalms pair pretty well together). But it’s just bits and pieces, not the whole story.
I struggle to get through reading scripture. I’ve never read the Bible through all the way, understanding the different stories and how they’re connected. I didn’t grow up in church, so I wasn’t spoon-fed the stories in Sunday School or VBS; I didn’t learn the silly songs or poems to remember stories, or grow up watching Veggie Tales (though I love the show now, as a 23 year old. Don’t judge). I had no idea what an AWANA program was and sat through Bible classes in college as a new-ish follower– those classes were the first time I truly ever had to read scripture.
When I started going to church at 13, most people my age knew the stories. They knew how to pronounce the names and could catch references to other scriptures that went unnoticed to me. They had good recall of specific stories without having to read the scripture directly.
10 years after first being introduced to Jesus, I still can’t do that.
This is something that’s been burning in my mind and heart for about a year now. I noticed it strongly when I’d read devotionals or faith-related blogs; I’d read through the scripture that the devo/ blog was based on to get straight to the actual post. When reading the She Reads Truth devos on my phone, I’d barely glance at the actual scripture, electing to skim it because I wanted to get to the devotional for the good stuff.
I loved learning and reading ABOUT scripture. I could get people’s explanations of verses and stories quite well; someone else’s words relating to or talking about scripture really resonated with me. Even writing about scripture myself, putting it in my own words was something I easily can grasp. But understanding and reading the actual scripture itself? Forget it.
I soon decided to take a break from SRT and similar devotionals. They were keeping me from actually reading and studying the scripture themselves. And yet, I’m still struggling.
I struggle to get through passages when I try. When being the operative word.
I cherry pick the verses I choose to read, instead of trying to read a whole chapter or book so I can get the scope/context. I’m not diligent about reading daily for a set amount of time, or reading a specific book or chapter at a time.
I use scripture as if it’s prescriptive; if something’s wrong, I/someone needs encouragement, I grab a verse or two and stick it on the wound. I use it to make me feel better about life. It’s a pep talk to pump me up, or a healing aid to get me from one ailment to the next; I read scripture to see what it can do for me, not what I can do with it.
But I don’t think scripture’s supposed to be a bandaid. It’s not supposed to be an inspirational speech to merely stick on a canvas or a plaque, is it?
Yet that’s how I’ve treated it. I’ve used scripture to make for an inspirational instagram post or reduced it to 140 characters on twitter when I needed comfort. I lump verses without context or understanding with quotes from books, song lyrics, or facts and statistics: it’s something I just grab a line that invokes a feeling or encouragement, instead of studying and learning from it.
I don’t use it to know Him. To understand His story from beginning to end. To learn about who He is, and how to become more like him.
I want to know more. I’m hungry for knowledge, for details. I have access to a lot of it. But instead, I pull verses to memorize and instead of comprehend and emulate.
I want to know Jesus. And I want to know where He and his story came from. I want to understand stories as a whole, not just bits and pieces and verses I choose. I want to not be confused by verses in the Old Testament, to understand the stories and the connections between the OT and the NT.
I don’t just want to say what I believe. I don’t want to use scripture as a grab bag of go-to pick-me-ups. I want to understand the backstory, where my beliefs came from. I want to read it as a whole– and I want to understand it. So many times have I started reading a chapter in the Bible and have quit because I got confused. Or I’ll read a story and have to re-read it multiple times, only to still not understand.
It’s times like that that I wish I had a solid foundation in scripture. But I don’t.
Boredom is another big thing for me, too. I read the names and the narration between dialogue and I space out. I have no attention span and little discipline, a cruel combination when trying to read and understand something difficult like scripture. I hate admitting that, truthfully. I want to be captivated by it, but instead I either get bored and lose my place or read for a few minutes and stop altogether.
If I get bored, or don’t understand a scripture, I quit reading or skip to the next verse or book. When I don’t understand something, or struggle with a phrase or concept in the bible, I just turn the page. I treat it like a homework assignment or a check on my to-do list, not as an opportunity to learn and know more about the God I claim to follow.
I don’t want to pick and choose scripture to just use in my life to get a certain feeling or comfort; I want to know the words and apply it to my life. There’s a difference in applying certain verses to my life and life situations, and knowing the scripture and applying them in my life.
One of my goals for this year has been to read scripture more– truly read it, not just glance through it looking for nuggets of wisdom. I got a really great Bible study journal, and at first I was using it with gusto, going through the book of Romans. But then I got discouraged. I’d skip a night or not understand a chapter and just throw in the towel. The journal has sat unused for months.
Then I started Bible journaling, which has been awesome for me. I’ve always used art/craft as an outlet and extension of what I’m learning in my faith, so when I saw the Bible journaling ‘trend’ pick up, I joined in. At first i used it while trying to read through the book of John. I’d read, then find a story or verse to journal on, in hopes to memorize and learn the story. Then i got bored. Or school got too busy for me to break out the art supplies. So I quit, and instead only journaled verses when I wanted/needed comfort or support, instead of journaling to memorize and meditate on scripture.
A wonderful friend gave me a Sacred Ordinary Days planner, which I LOVE. It has the lectionary in it, so it goes through the entire Bible in sections (with OT and NT passages daily). It has probably helped me the most in terms of being disciplined about reading scripture daily. Since I’ve been home from school I haven’t picked it up (really not in need of a planner to sit at home all summer haha); when I do use it, though, it does help me become disciplined in the reading– but not so much in the understanding/grasping what I’m reading
It’s a cruel cycle: I read, I don’t understand/get confused, and I quit. I don’t want to be like that, but when I don’t understand something it doesn’t make much sense for me to keep reading.
I want to do better. I want to be better at this oh-so important facet of my faith– it’s supposed to be the foundation of my faith, after all!
So, I’m asking for help: what is the best way for me to read and learn the Bible? As someone who didn’t grow up in it, how do I begin to truly read it and understand it?
Is there a study I should try, a Bible I should use, should I try to read with someone (or someones)? This is something I really have been giving a lot of thought to in my life. I just don’t know where to start. And I need help sticking to it when it gets tough– I need to learn how to be more disciplined in this area of my life, instead of quitting when I struggle (perhaps this is where actually asking for help can come in, hmm?). I want a firm foundation not in words of my own or others, but in scripture itself.
I want to read the Bible without getting bored or frustrated. I want to know the stories that shape my faith. But, I need help figuring out how to get there. I need my community to help me grow in this part of my life– because I have no idea how to start.
do you ever expect things to turn out one way, and they end up going the exact opposite?
Yeah. Me too.
So what do you do when your expectations and your reality don’t match up?
For me, this whole year has been centered around this very thing.
I thought i was going to graduate in December, but I didn’t.
I thought I was going to nail student teaching, but I failed miserably.
I thought I was going to become an English teacher to middle schoolers, and that fell through.
All my life expectations came crashing down around me. And to put it gently, it sucked.
I worked hard towards that goal. And it didn’t come to pass.
While now I’m in a place where I’m done grieving over it, I can’t help but wonder what my expectations for the next chapter are going to be. And moreso, if I will actually meet them.
So how do I create expectations that I can actually meet? How, after burning myself once on expecting something so specific and detailed, can I find a new goal, a new plan, and derive expectations that I know I can exceed?
I expect so much of myself. But now, I’m scared to expect anything of myself at all.
a feeling of surprise mingled with admiration, caused by something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar, or inexplicable.
verb
1.
desire or be curious to know something.
2.
feel admiration and amazement; marvel.
I have lost my sense of wonder. Or, if I’m being really honest… I don’t know if I ever had one.
When I think of the word wonder today, as a 23 year-old anxious, high-strung adult-ish child, I think of fear. Of questioning everything I do. The “what ifs” become my wonderings: I wonder if this will happen or that will work out… that’s all I wonder about, these days.
I’m a pretty logical person. I like concreteness, a point A to point B route with instructions. I read manuals for things to ensure I’m doing it right, and wholeheartedly believe Google has an answer for everything. One of the reasons I love history is that it is fixed– we can’t change it, we can only learn from it.
I like my to-do lists and calendars and planners. I like to leave no room for surprises and sudden life-changes. I’m fearful for what happens tomorrow, especially if i don’t have it figured out today. I want control– I want to know what’s happening when, and I hate being out of the loop, so I tend to take matters into my own hands and get things done. I’m one of those people in a group project who would rather do all the work and insure it’s done well than to trust group members.
I was a mini adult: always mature and independent, fitting in more with the grownups talking politics than the kiddie table at family gatherings. And those qualities have morphed me into an independent, control-freak of a perfectionist as an actual adult.
This is what makes faith so hard for me. It’s so messy. So full of gray areas and questions with no answers. I don’t like the guessing and the uncertainty and the wrestling with scripture and unsureness of life (especially when I was so sure of it all once upon a time). I want to know things for sure. I want to know my plans, my life goals, my future. I want to know God like He’s in the room. I want to see, to touch, to fully know that God is here like he says he is. Imagination only gets me so far.
I’m required to trust and put faith in something I don’t see or fully understand–that’s the freakin’ definition of faith.
I don’t want to be like this when it comes to my faith. I want to know Him and believe He is who he says he is without the logical answers and plans my brain wants. I want to trust unwavering. I want to stand and revel in glory without questioning if He’s who he says he is– and to not wait until something good or exciting comes my way to do so. I want to learn to really, really know Him without the fear of talking to air when I pray.
I want to wonder. I need to wonder. I need to learn how to marvel in amazement and awe, to admire who He is and what He’s doing. Because i see the things God has done– and believe me, I have seen them unravel in front of me–I just don’t see Him. I know He’s not some magician or mastermind sitting in the sky barking orders and causing chaos, but it feels like that somedays.
It’s like He’s behind a curtain pulling strings, which I know is not how this whole thing works. I can see the effects, but not the causation. And it bothers me. Why can’t I see him, dangit?!?! Why can’t I have an actual hand to hold when I need comfort, instead of something imagined in my head?!
It’s a struggle. No doubt.
—
I’m reading a new book (I finally have time for fun reading, hallelujah amen) called I Don’t Wait Anymore. It’s by one of my favorite bloggers, Grace Thornton (her blog Grace for the Road was one of the first blogs I truly followed). I’m only into chapter 1 and it is already posing some hard thoughts and questions.
I read this paragraph and kinda sat with my mouth hanging open.
“I trusted God like I’d trust a funeral director to take care of all the arrangements properly. I didn’t trust Him like an intimate friend whose arms I could fall into with tear-stained relief because hallelujah, here’s the Person who came just because He knows me and loves me.”
In that moment I needed a God I could trust with my agony-ridden, emotion-etched heart, not just with my life’s strategy.
I felt a cold shiver reading this. That first line, man. How could I follow God and treat him like He’s a funeral director? He’s God!
Then I realized I do. Oh, boy do I.
I pray every night like clockwork, for my friends and family and specific requests that pop up. I don’t talk. I just list. It feels more like a honey-do list, or like one of my beloved to-do lists, than it does talking to God. To use a line from a favorite book, I treat God like he’s a wish granting factory– like a genie granting wishes if I say them enough and with enough feeling. I used to not be like that in prayer–I used to have lengthy soliloquies and one-sided discussions with God. I’d walk and talk to God, casually chatting and laughing like a coffee chat with a friend. But they eventually stopped.
I think it was because I was afraid. I was afraid I wasn’t being heard– I was just talking aimlessly to thin air, nothing coming of it.
I used to talk about my fears, my anxiety. My sadness. But I didn’t feel like I was being listened to. I want to talk about my day, my dreams and my plans, but it doesn’t feel all that important.
It’s really hard to talk in-depth when no one is there to talk to. It’s weird to spill my guts to the wall, without a reply or a head nod. It’s lonely to cry without an actual shoulder to cry on.
I read my Bible and journal but usually wind up with more questions and confusion because I’m doing it alone. The stories sometimes overwhelm and confuse me and I close my Bible unsure of what i even read.
I don’t even know what else I’m supposed to do anymore, honestly. What else makes this faith thing an actual relationship? A friendship like Grace described? How else do I get to know God as a friend I can give my agony and my joys to?
Because if that’s the kind of relationship you can have with God, the kind that Grace describes… to quote When Harry Met Sally, I’ll have what she’s having.
I can’t exactly fall into the arms of someone that isn’t there. That would make for one scary trust fall, y’all. But I want that. I want to find relief in His arms. But His actual arms, not just some extension of my imagination. I want a safe space to cry and spill all my emotions that isn’t my therapist’s office or my instagram. I want God to be my person.
I want that kind of relationship with God. But I don’t know how.
Honesty hour: while talking about an intimate friend: the thought of God and intimacy freaks me out. I just can’t. While I know this isn’t exactly what is meant by intimate friend here, I just can’t get past it. The idea of God (who still I cannot see) wooing me or romancing me is something i just do. not. get. I’ve struggled with it for literal years. I’ve read the book of Hosea and Redeeming Love and Captivating and I still cannot put my grasp on a relationship so intimate with someone I literally do not see. Or know.
I want to know God better. I want to love God better. But the thought of God as an intimate friend is something I just cannot wrap my head or heart around.
God is father. God is friend. God is savior. God is not intimate or lover or anything romantic to me. Can I save the wooing for an actual human in my life since I’ve never experienced that?!?
/honesty hour over
I go through the motions. I do the “to-dos” on my checklist when it comes to my faith. But it’s not enough. Something’s missing.
a few days, my favorite Sarah Bessey shared this quote and it made me think:
“Without wonder, we approach spiritual formation as a self-help project. We employ techniques. We analyze gifts and potentialities. We set goals. We assess progress. Spiritual formation is reduced to cosmetics.” – Eugene H. Peterson (from “Living the Resurrection”)
Yep. My faith is less about faith and more about self-care: making me feel better and having all my problems solved. Except none of that is happening when I think of faith this way. I don’t feel better. My problems haven’t been solved. My plans haven’t suddenly come together in front of me.
I feel like there’s something separating me and God from knowing each other.
There’s nothing wonderful or mystical or intimate about treating my faith like a goal sheet, like a to-do list. Yet it’s how i’m wired to function, so that’s how I do things in my faith too.
There’s no wonder. No creativity. No marvel or openness. Just open and shut, point A to point B, get-it-done-and-move-on mentality when it comes to me and my walk.
I don’t want it to be like that. My faith and trust suffer when I treat it like a honey-do list instead of a relationship.
Because when things don’t happen on the to-do list or plans fall through, my life feels like it’s going to fall apart… and when I approach faith like this, it falls apart, too. And I react as such.
Where can I find the wonder in my faith? How can I fix the chasm between my desire of logic and order and answers with my knowledge and belief in things unseen?
How can I see faith as a friendship and life together with Jesus, instead of treating my relationship with Jesus like he’s a funeral director?
I want to be personal. I want to be real. I want to find wonder and beauty in this faith, not just a to-do list of things I need Him to do for me.
But I don’t know how. My heart doesn’t just get this whole relationship thing. I’ve never been good at relationships with the people in front of me, let alone with someone i can’t see.
If you have a relationship with Jesus that’s a genuine, intimate, supportive friendship: help me. How does that happen? What does it look like?
How do I get to know God and let him know me? How can I learn to wonder?
Because I know my faith was made for so much more than what it looks like right now.
“I tore the veil
for you to come close
There’s no reason for you
to stand at a distance anymore”
Yesterday, I saw these lyrics on instagram from Out of Hiding by Steffany Gretzinger (I love her). It describes what I want, truthfully: I want to not be frightened by intimacy. I want to trust him with my heart, not just my life’s plans.
I don’t want a distance between me and God. I want to come out of hiding and fall into His arms… but I want actual arms to run into.
The weather this week in Nashville has been unseasonably cooler– actually spring-like, which is odd for TN in May. It’s been rainy, windy, and in the 60s all week, which usually I’d enjoy.
This week, however, I’ve kind of hated it. It reflects how I’m feeling about this season: change and discomfort and sadness, whipping me straight across the face and leaving me cold.
Plus, it’s made it impossible for me to do the one thing I’ve been wanting to do all week: spend time outside on campus, soaking in these last few days.
How can I miss a place I haven’t even left yet?
I cannot imagine my life without this place being the focal point. It’s my safe place, my refuge and where I am the most myself. It’s home in every sense of the word. I can’t picture this place and this community not being a focal point of my days, a center of my life.
Yet in less than 48 hours, it won’t be anymore. And I don’t know how to handle it.
I don’t want to miss Lipscomb. I want to be here. To stay here.
I’m ready for the future (especially now that I have a plan/next step in motion for the fall). I’m not scared of what’s to come anymore.
I’m not as worried about going home– especially knowing I have an end date and a time to move out in July for my internship.
But none of those things make saying leaving any easier.
I was talking to my dad today and started crying out of nowhere (which I tend to try not to do with my dad since he’s a gruff no-crying kind of guy) while talking about graduation plans. It came out of left field– I’ve been (mostly) fine this week, relieved to be finished. Until now. Grad practice tomorrow, my last full day on campus, leaving Elam for the last time– it all became a little too much for me to handle. Suddenly, I’m not as ready to leave as I thought I was.
I’ve been crying ever since, basically– trying to come to terms with this mix of emotions. This tension between missing this chapter and springing into the next one.
I’m so ready to be done. Hell, I’ve been ready since February. I’m ready for a break from school and stress- especially since this semester sucked the life out of me.
I have plans for the future figured out, a next chapter unfolding– and right now? It’s kinda looking awesome and perfect for me (more on that in the future).
But that does not change how hard this transition is. How sad I am about leaving this place behind.
Lipscomb holds a huge part of my life– my heart, my identity is found in this dorm and this community and these classrooms. I am not ready to miss it.
The thought of having to miss this place is breaking my heart.
I’m ready to wear this on Saturday… not ready to leave after.
{this was technically a five minute friday post, but being honest: i did not write this in five minutes. more like an hour in-between crying fits. Yay emotional breakdowns!}
Writeable moments 