The balancing act

       Let's see how writing a post while falling asleep goes. I may have to fix it later so it makes sense! Here we go! 

So much of what we do is balancing. Or at least we try to balance a lot in life. Food; portion and type. Family; correction and compliments. Time; work and home. Life; have to's and want to's. The past; mercy and justice. And on and on it goes. Finding and maintaining balance is more difficult in some areas than in others, but it's all a struggle. 

   

       Now while you ponder those for a minute let me tell you something that I've been wrestling with. Just hang tight with me, it'll tie in. 

       When did the church become so inward focused?  When did we start to think that people had to check off a list of requirements before being involved?  When did we forget that Christ sat and dined with sinners? Why do we take "misson trips" to another city but don't reach out to our own? When did the church become a business? My questions are endless. 

We've lost touch with search and rescue. The misson of the church seems to be turning into seek and destroy. We've lost the ability to love people to Christ. Beating someone with a bible doesn't work, trust me, I've been on both ends. 

I really believe that the church is having "relationship issues" with God. Who's fault is it? Well....he's perfect...so that doesn't leave many choices, does it? Do we really have a relationship? We know rules and regulations inside and out and some are purely tradition that we've etched into law. When did we turn a place of meeting into a temple? Have we become Pharisees? Do we know about God, but not KNOW God? 

       So many times we sit and judge and wag our heads at those seeking God. Pure God, not what we've made him. They come and sit in service feeling akward and heavy, hoping to see people (heaven forbid) full of joy in worship. Not looking at their phones, continually checking the clock or singing like their voices are weighed by thick mud. Praying to catch a glimpse of grace and mercy from Gods people.

We love to let Satan get the best of us, don't we? He keeps us busy focused on the politics and details. I frankly don't care if clap in church or not. Or if you pray sitting, standing, or kneeling. Or if you have a power point or use hymnals. We cannot see the forest for the trees and are losing the battle because of it. Can we compromise truth? Not an option. But God be praised, it is possible to present truth in love. Without judgmental glances and upward tilted noses. 

        When was the last time we decided to go sit and visit with the people we felt weren't up to "the standard"? God sent his son for everyone didn't he? We were all lost at some point, and many of us keep getting lost. Yet, we cannot bring ourselves to reach out. Why? Now, don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm not expecting us to spend every moment of every day standing on a street corner with a mega phone. I'm just asking you to get your hands dirty. Learn to love people as they are; flawed creatures, seeking mercy. If we can't love people as they are, then we can't love ourselves, because we are all flawed, are we not? Anyone out there want to cast the first stone? 

        Now this is where it ties in. I want a relationship with my creator (see post before last for more on this). I want to know, love, and praise him with everything that I am. BUT, I don't want to ignore the reverence that is due. I dare not stuff God in a cute box to carry in my pocket. No. I want to be in awe of His Majesty and holiness as much as I want to be held in his arms. I don't want the church to make Christ so human that he's no longer God. I don't dilute what he is with false labels and expectations. Holiness is something our culture is quickly losing understanding of. But I don't want him to be untouchable as only God and not any part human. So untouchable that I may as well not try to reach out to Him. It is a very delicate and difficult thing to balance.

      Most of my life I've been fed a steady diet of fire and brimstone. I've been fed impossible standards that left me wondering why I even tried. Grace and mercy were only for the worthy. You had to prequalify to recieve hope. I learned to fear God, but feared Him so much that I didn't know how to love Him. We can show both reverence and love. 

      Then we have the other end of things where God is only love and fluff. It is not so, friends. God is a jealous, powerful, unchanging God, and he has the power to condemn our souls. We can't even fathom his power. 

      You see how we must wrestle with this? How we must seek to balance? We need to focus inward to keep the church strong, but not so much that we forget our main purpose is to reach out. We need to be in the trenches with people when they are in a battle so we can help them out. Not sitting on the sidelines listing all the reasons they are there because of their own doing, or how they will figure it out on their own. Wouldn't it be sad if Christ did that to us? 

   

    We also need to find a place where we can love God, and still fear his Holiness. What's more, is we need to do this without compromising the truth. 

        Right now, I am one who is seeking. I am in the deep trenches and trying to survive. It is a lonely place. People look at me from afar and spin tales of "what went wrong".  I make mistakes, and continually need Gods grace. I'm trying. 

       Don't lose heart. There is hope for us all. Salvation is not unattainable. We can correct our corse, and learn to love the way Christ loves. We can stop the petty bickering and focus on what God wants us to focus on. We can open our doors and be examples of truth in love. We are not alone in these efforts. God knows we are not perfect, yet we seem to think everyone should be. He expects us to try, and not give up. The only perfection we achieve is by accepting the blood of Christ in baptisim  and letting Him wash us daily.  Gods grace perfects us.

     Together, let's look around us to help the hurting. Let's get our hands dirty and make ourselves uncomfortable. Nobody is beyond hope, not even me. 

 

Out of the dark

A still, small voice. That's how God rolls. Sometimes he needs to smack us in the face. Other times he calls us to be still. Still in ways I've never been still, until now. 

      Letting go of the past. Not living my life based on what others think. Seeking God above all else. Raw, passionate pursuit. Being at a point when you really are ready to let God take control...because you have nothing left in you. 

   

        My heart and soul ached with longing to shed my pain and despair. I lost my passion in Gods work. People around me seemed to have no joy in God. The kind of joy the world can't understand or take away. I wanted joy in God. 

  

          I started withdrawing from people. I wanted and needed time to focus on God. I needed to spend time not worrying about keeping up appearances or maintaining shallow relationships. I had no fight left in me. I felt as though my heart had burst and it's pieces scattered to the four winds, and there was no hope of getting them back.  

       I swallowed the jagged pill of pride and had to admit that I had been living my life the way I thought everyone else wanted me to. Following family traditions in faith and life. I knew it was time to step back and evaluate my faith and core beliefs. This, I will tell you, is not for the faint of heart. 

           For so many years I've felt focused on the do's and don'ts of Christian life. You know, rules. What makes me right and all else wrong. Ah, the grand delusions. Though I've spoken of grace and mercy, and of Gods love, I'd never really felt it. Not like I wanted to. No matter how hard I tried, I felt as though heavens gates would never let me enter.  I had no real relationship with God. I was too afraid of Him. Afraid of the rejection I was sure I would recieve. One discovery I've made in my soul searching, is God's grace really is sufficient. Really. Once I began to believe this, I started letting Him closer. Fear has been swallowed by adoration and love. I am not saying I don't have a healthy fear of God, I'm saying that I've stopped being afraid of Him. I'm letting go of my hypocrisy and letting God pour out his love, grace and mercy. 

            

            In this time of searching, I've started to find joy in God. It is beyond the vocabulary of humans to try and describe it. I wish it upon all of you. 

            I tell you all of this to tell you something else. The past few months, while I've questioned the very things I believe, I have not felt as though I should write. I wanted to find my way out of the darkness so I could tell you what I found in the light, and what I felt in the dark. In the past 3days I've had a few people ask about my blog. I believe that in those questions was the still small voice telling me that it's time. It's time to start sharing you're struggles and victories once more. 

          So, here's to the God of the impossible. The God of the great and terrible storms, and gentle nudges. I'm back. 

"Normal" isn't so normal.

Do you ever sit and wonder what "normal" is? Nobody thinks they or their lives are normal. If I had to define "normal" I think I'd call it, the delusion that everyone has of everyone else's life, and the illusion we try to create to match it. Hmmm. Well, as far as putting it into words I think that is the best I've got.

I'll admit, I spend time thinking "I wish my life was just normal." I wish that things were as pleasant as they appear to be on the outside of other peoples lives. "On the outside"......

There are many directions we could take with this topic, but there is one I want to focus on. Depression. Depression is an ugly creature that takes over and steals joy in life. Many people keep their depression a hidden part of their life, tucked safely away behind the fear of the stigma that comes with depression. I too, fear that stigma.
I suffer from clinical depression. I have for years. Once in awhile my doctor and I decide to try not treating it with medication. It always works well for the first month or two...then I find myself crying all the time, or dreading waking in the morning. It's like I'm watching myself become more and more depressed but despite my best efforts to pull myself out of my slump, I fail.

Many Christians believe and profess that faith in God should be all you ever need to be joyful and if you are depressed than there is an issue with your faith. I have been told this by people before. It is a sad thing. It is the last thing that will help you because then you feel like a failure in your faith on top of everything negative you may feel.
I'm stepping out and exposing this struggle I have so that others who secretly struggle will know they are not alone. I think our Christian family would be far better off if we didn't worry about keeping up appearances of "normal" and exposed our faults and struggles so that we can build each other up. What if we let our guards down and truly bear one another's burdens as it says in Galatians 6:2?

For some reason when people find out you are on medication for depression (insert dramatic gasp here), they get this crazy image in their head. Some people just chalk you up as mentally impaired from that point on, and it's almost like they are afraid of you. Some will also try to look down on you. They might even attribute any slight change in your behavior to "your meds". Why is this? Are we not all human? Do we not all have struggles and inner battles?

I often struggle with taking medication for depression because it makes me feel weak. I listen to those who feed me lies and belittle me for not being able to "snap out of it". Friends, there is nothing wrong with treating depression. Take heart, and know that I applaud you for facing your giant. You are far from alone. Many times the people who struggle with depression are those you would never suspect. Often they are the goofy out-going ones that seem to have it all together....on the outside. Those people may go home and cry themselves to sleep, we don't know.

Faith is indeed critical. Not how it is often twisted though. Keep God close as you fight your depression. He WILL help you. God is an important part of the healing process. However, it by no means EVER means you have weak faith because you are depressed.

Let us put away our ideas of "normal". It is too often the image in our head of how things are supposed to be that messes us up. No more illusions and delusions. Be real. Real love, real kindness, real hope. Here's to tomorrow......

And now for something completely different...

I'm writing this from my phone (as I do all my posts because this is my only Internet), so I am HOPING it holds it's format. If I'd doesn't, I'll try to correct it Monday.

Once in a while I might post a poem of sorts that I wrote. Today is one of those days. I hope you find something in it to lift you up.



All around I compare and see,
All of those that are better than me.


"Don't compare!" assure me the best.
Then they turn with pride, and run with the rest.


"Give me praise!" they shout but don't speak.
Not bothering to encourage those trying, and weak.


An unlikely one steps out and promises to achieve.
She sets up her goals and her far-fetched dreams.


The expectations for this one aren't high at all.
They wag their heads and wait for her hopes to fall.


She gropes the path, reaching for support.
"It's impossible" they say, "this scheme you must abort."


The odds are against her, taunting her steps.
Mocking, jeering, and tearing from the depths.


People come, pass on the left and the right.
Their strides come easier, it's hardly a fight.


Pity invades, and tries to take hold.
She fights her tears and tries to be steadfast and bold.


Then a glimmer, a spark, a fire ignites her heart.
She'll see it to the end, refusing to be picked apart.


Let their vanity and pride be theirs to keep.
Their pace will lesson, what they've sewn, they'll reap.


Her fight is her own, and this she well knows.
So onward she carries. Down the path she goes.


One day she'll pass some soul on this road.
SHE won't keep going, leaving them cold.


She will stop, and match the strangers pace.
For it's what ought to be done, as we all run this race.


Teaching them to quicken their step and almost fly.
Rather than leaving them hopeless with each passing by.


The day will come as she runs her Race.
There will be no shortness of breath; a new pace.


She won't have a medal or great body to show.
But she will reflect on her pace that was once so slow.


The hurt that it had caused, being left so far behind;
Made her think of others and keep them in mind.


So as we try to finish as others.
Let's make time to stop and help our brothers.



Thanks for reading. Keep on keeping on.

-Sarah

A late night history lesson will break your heart.

Last night my daughter wanted to stay up late and watch a movie together. It is summer and I wanted the opportunity so I agreed. My son learned of our plans and I told him that he could join us as well. We browsed the movies and came across the diary of Anne Frank.
        Rachel studied the girl on the cover and and asked what the story was about. First, I told her that it was no story. I told her it is very true, every bit of it. Then I went on to explain about WW II and the Nazi's. She stopped me and asked who the Nazi's were. For some reason this stirred my heart. I felt that she needed to know this important part of history. I don't even know if they teach it in school anymore.
        It was settled. We were going to watch "The Diary of Anne Frank". I knew the story and knew it would be hard for my daughter to watch (she is 10). I however, believe that sometimes children need to be exposed to unhappy endings. I see so many of my daughters friends disconnected from compassion, and sympathy. It is our culture for young children to watch crazy movies and become callused to things around them. I know this is not always true, but it does seem to be a large number. I think all the external "junk" our kids are exposed to gives them a real disadvantage in the emotional department. It feeds a selfish, entitled attitude. The value of a human life seems to be less in the eyes of so many. It saddens me deeply.
        We all three settled down to watch the movie. It was a long movie and there were many questions along the way.
         It had been a long time since I had seen the movie or read the book. The more we watched and the more I remembered Anne Frank reminded me of my daughter. This gave me a new perspective on the movie. Before, I had watched it as a girl, relating to the young people in the movie. This time, I watched it as a parent, and related to the adults. New emotions were churning inside of me.
         The scene in the movie came where their hiding is finally discovered. My son crept over to my lap (He is 6yrs.) and had little tears in his eyes.
        He said, "Mama, those bad men are so mean. I wish I would have been there to fight them."
        My little protector.  I tried to smile at him, thinking of what I would have done had I been in that situation and told him, "My big strong boy, a lot of people died trying to fight the bad men."
        Then Rachel looked at me with tears down her cheeks and still welling in her eyes and asked, "Mama, does she live? Does her family live?"
         I took a deep breath. I hadn't expected it to stir their emotions so much, or mine. All I could do was shake my head and whisper, "Just her father, love."
        Then came the end scene and Rachel was hanging on to every word spoken by Anne's father about the fate of his family and friends.
         The movie ended with both children in my lap, with all of us crying quiet, sullen tears. My son was fairly easily comforted and after lots of hugs and kisses he felt much better. My daughter is a deep thinker. She would not be so easily comforted. She had so many questions. She wanted to know why I hadn't told her about this before.  She was somewhat familiar with WWII but only what it was like in america during the war.
        My daughter and I sat and discussed many things last night. We talked about relatives who had fought in WWII. We talked about how it would have been in their shoes. Then, we talked about how blessed we are.
       After much discussion, it was very late and time for bed. Rachel wanted to sleep in bed with me. I allowed it and soon after we laid down she was out cold. I laid there looking at her face and thinking of what it would be like to have our family separated and sent away the way the Frank family was. The lump in my throat ached as I thought of the feeling of helplessness. I envisioned the people who survived searching for months or years to discover the fate of the ones they loved. What heartache. Then a thought came to me. Death is not the end.
        My imagination swept me away to a reunion in heaven. People who searched for and never found the ones they loved. In all these scenarios it was always my family. I imagined it for a little while, then I could take it no more.
        I laid there and prayed. I thanked God for many, many things. The hope of heaven really is a grand hope. What would we have to comfort us in our times of sorrow?
        I will forever thank God for my family. Above all, I will thank Him for the hope He offers. The Bible is so full of promises that I know will be kept. When things look beyond hope, they are not. It may be difficult to see, but it is there.
        This morning I decided to look up Anne Frank. Unknown to me, the 25th, was the 60th anniversary of her diary being printed. Then I saw that she and my daughter shared the same birthday in June. I encourage you to look it up as well.
        History is an interesting thing. We can learn so much from it, if only we are willing to. The Bible tells us that the old testament (the part before Jesus, the old law) is there for us to study and learn from. Through out the years that are recorded you can see history repeating itself over and over. I suppose it will continue to do so. I believe that if we can learn from the mistakes of others, we should, and not make the same mistakes ourselves.
           Anne Frank had no idea the impact she would have on the world. Who knows what sort of impact we may have one day.