Where Do You Go

Where Do You Go

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

"Simon Peter replied, 'Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life.'" John 6:68

Anybody who has spent time with me knows this and will shout it from the rooftops - I am utterly, completely, directionally challenged. I get lost on country roads I've known my whole life. I could go to the same mall every day and still double check a map to know where the bathrooms are. And please, please never ever use words like "north-east, south-west" when giving directions. I will probably get lost in the wilderness and die. Alone. I am regularly in a place and posture where I praise Jesus for Google Maps, unceasingly (kidding! please don't email me saying I'm a heretic. I save my heresies for where it really counts. kidding again. moving on.)

And depending on the season - I've found navigating through life to be even harder. When things go wrong and I feel completely lost, I usually head straight to places I know aren't good for me. When I'm overwhelmed I look for easy distractions. I wander aimlessly and tolerate little, white sins because "I just don't have it in me right now" to plant my feet firmly where Jesus wants me. 

Maybe that's you this week. You don't know where you've been at lately, and in the back of your head you're wondering how far you can wander before you reach the point of no return. Maybe you've been lost for awhile and have no idea how you got so stuck. Maybe you see your need for direction and have been trying to get back to God all in your own strength - and you keep failing. 

In the book of John there's a moment where Jesus' teachings became a little too real for the liking of some of his disciples. They weren't quite sure what it was he was trying to tell them. To the point that Jesus interrupted their mutterings (I love this, wait for it) and asked, "Does this offend you?". Sometimes God is going to ask us to go places where we really, really don't want to be. To go into the murky places in another person's soul that we don't want to believe exist. Sometimes we're going to read something from the Bible that rubs us the wrong way. Or he's going to put us into circumstances that we don't understand. Instead of holding onto Him to guide us, we decide that our way is the best way. And we choose our own path. We go places we know we shouldn't.

This is me. This is your pastor. This is your young adults leader. This is all of us. This is the wisest of us and the ficklest of us (and I'm not convinced the two are mutually exclusive). These were Jesus' own people.

But this is what I love - when Jesus asked the Twelve whether they're going to leave like the others did, Simon Peter pipes up, "Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life. We believe, and we know you are the Holy One of God."

One of the most life changing things I've learned about living righteously - is that it's not actually about counting the amount of times you messed up, or didn't. It's about how often you come running back to your Saviour. It's about what you do afterwards. It's saying, "God - I believe what you say is true. I believe you are who you say you are. I trust you. I believe you've got this." It's about where you go after you've gone too far. Sinning less isn't how you become righteous. It's placing yourself at the feet of Jesus because you know there's no other way. 

So when you're feeling lost and discouraged and your old habits start crawling back from the grave you threw them in, go to Jesus. His arms are open. He is not going to bar your way or shame you because you took a wrong turn, again. He's drawing you to himself. 

You just have to choose where it is you're going to go.

Let's Talk About Anxiety

Let's Talk About Anxiety

Friday, October 27, 2017

I was sixteen when I had my first panic attack.

I remember exactly where I was sitting. I remember exactly what I was wearing. And I also remember thinking in the back of my brain - this is a long time coming. 

I didn't know then what anxiety was or what it meant to struggle with mental illness. What I did know was that I wasn't normal, though. I really, really hoped I wasn't normal. Because if everyone felt like this, how are they keeping it together? And if everyone doesn't feel like this, how in the world am I supposed to keep it together?

I'm not very good at being imperfect. Imperfection is threatening. So I overachieve. I overcompensate. I am meticulous. I avoid things that I can't be perfect at, I withdraw from situations that remind me that I'm flawed and very, very human.

After that panic attack at sixteen, my very wise, very loving, and very woke mother suggested therapy (I loved my therapist. She had these big, gorgeous red earrings and a knack for wearing neutral turtlenecks). At least I loved her until things started getting deep. Guys, I am the master at chit chat. I am the master at banter and relatability and charisma. Just don't ask me about my childhood. Or heartbreak. Or the really, really irrational things that keep me awake at night, and the fear that ties strings around my mouth so that I can never open it to ask for help. 

It wasn't until I was eighteen years old that I grew absolutely desperate. I was really tired of limiting myself. I was really tired of not sleeping, not being able to do things that the people I loved counted on me for, and I was really tired of feeling distant from Jesus. I wanted the joy and peace and hope that everyone talked about.

I will always look back at that year as the year I climbed mountains. Figuratively and literally. I made so many big decisions that year. I fell hard, in love with Jesus that year. I got serious about working to become the person I knew God wanted me to be that year. And by the end of it, I thought I had cured myself. I was softer. I was more vulnerable. I didn't shame others for being soft and vulnerable anymore, either. I loved, I loved, I loved my close friends and family to the fullest. I had learned to ask for help. I was so full of joy. And the anxiety? Huh? New phone who dis?

It wasn't until this past summer when I let myself burnout, it wasn't until the cries for help poorly disguised as "bad decisions", and the resulting panic attacks after years of feeling free that I realized I'm not my own healer. I can delve into the deepest pits of my soul and dig at my hurt until there's none left, I can read dozens and dozens of self-help books with doves and cups of well-staged coffee on them, and yet somehow it's never gonna make me fully new. My newness doesn't come from me. It comes from something much, much bigger.

If you've been struggling with anxiety, if you're in a relapse, you are not a failure. You are not too sick, too scared, too far gone to be reached. You are not a burden to your church or to your family. You are not too much or too little for somebody to love you. You're gonna be okay. Deep breaths. Nothing is ever too big.

Reach out to somebody. Become the kind of person that others can reach out to, be the safe haven that you would have needed. You're going to be amazed at how many people know exactly what it's like to go through what you've gone through. 

Anxiety is not a death sentence to be carried out alone. Anxiety is not going to have power over you forever. Anxiety is not bigger than the One Who Loves Most. If you don't know anybody safe in your life to talk about how you're feeling, or if you aren't ready to talk about it yet with the people closest to you, my inbox is always open. You can reach me here.

So You Keep Making Mistakes.

So You Keep Making Mistakes.

Monday, October 16, 2017

Sometimes I wish I could just pull up a chair, brew some tea, and get cozy with each of you. The older and wiser (HA!) I get, the more I realize I'm not interesed in having shallow conversations that lead to nobody changing or growing or getting their heart filled. I feel like I've been through too much and seen too many people go through the same things over and over to think that staying silent or keeping those poisons inside is going to help anybody, like, ever.

So let's pretend it's me in front of you - probably with frizzy hair and some kind of horrible "I-forgot-to-put-on-real-shoes-before-I-left-campus" socks and sandals combination. But freaky footwear aside, here's what I think you need to know. Let me encourage you for a second.

I know that life is hard. I know that living a life after God can be really hard. I wish more people would admit that - and then let that spur them on to do their very best to find the joy anyway. To bless others anyway. To encourage fellow believers anyway. I've been thinking a lot about what I would say if a younger version of myself came to me and said, "But Beth - this doesn't seem worth it. I'm not changing. In fact, some days I feel worse. I don't feel like I'm going anywhere and I don't feel like God is on my side." 

And for you right now, you might be reading this and thinking, "Well, there it is." You keep making mistakes. You don't feel like you're changing. You feel like you're doomed to be the same striving person forever, never seeing real growth - or seeing temporary growth and then falling right back the next time something gets in your way.

I think we make a big miscalculation when we measure our "holiness" or "goodness" based on how visible our sin symptoms are. I'm not saying that it's not important to be righteous and flee from all things that keep us from becoming like Jesus. Please keep doing that. But what I am saying is often we think - if I just stop doing this sinful thing, then I'm okay. Then God can love me. We think the mistakes in and of themselves are the problem. We don't look at the cause and the circumstance and the history behind them. We don't look at what's really creeping into our heart and making its bed there. 

Look at your heart. Look at what comes out of it. Pour yourself into knowing who God is. Cling to what is good. God is perfecting you slowly, but the process isn't supposed to look perfect. Practice being authentically kind before you focus on just not doing whatever thing it is you're trying to stop doing. Practice being a servant. Practice throwing away your selfish reclusiveness and reach out so somebody who needs it. Practice producing fruit of the Spirit unapologetically. These things don't have to be big, vibrant gestures. They can be small. But practice them. As they start to become markers of who you are, watch how suddenly the thing you were trying to stop doing grows smaller and smaller in your life.

So when you keep making mistakes, and you're painfully aware that who you are and who you want to be don't match up - remember this. Remember you're in process. Remember Jesus - remember who he says you are, and know you're already new. 

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love. Romans 5:1-5

 Also, - 2 Peter 1:1-10.