Another Bloomin' Prayer Failure

Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful then the risk it took to blossom.
Anais Nin

So, when I was growing up, our family didn’t easily say “I love you.” Possibly an uncomfortable muttering of “Lufyoo” if someone died, but most of the time, not even then. I have watched friends throughout my life say those three little words with an ease that astounded me. But with no practice of my own growing up, I felt inept. I became an adult who cringed at the words. I couldn't tell my family or even my friends. Only my dog.

That all changed several years ago when I dated a wonderful guy. He is the only man I have ever truly loved. I knew I loved him before he told me, but I wasn't about to say it first. When he finally did scrounge up enough nerve to sweetly stammer out his feelings for me - I laughed in his face!

What a horrid response. I apologized and poorly tried to explain that I did - well, you know - but I just couldn't say it. My fears were enormous and they overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't see straight. I'm not sure what I was so afraid of, just that those words made me want to flee for the border. But he was so kind and patient. He tried to invent silly tricks to make the transition easier on me, such as spacing each syllable of the dreaded phrase over increasingly closer increments of time, or saying it in other languages -"Te amo!"

During this time my love for him, and therefore my desire to tell him, continued to grow to the point where it eventually dwarfed my fears. And when the day came that I finally blurted it out - nearly two months later - he turned to look at me in shock. And I, panicky and mortified at feeling so exposed and vulnerable, begged him not to look at me. But instead he came to me, cradled my chin in his hands and said my name. I reluctantly opened my eyes and found myself miraculously still alive. Despite my worries to the contrary, the world had not imploded like I thought it might. In fact, the only thing that seemed to have changed was the now gigantic smile on said boy’s face. As the initial terror wore off and I began to feel more secure, I love you's began to gush out of me to the point I am quite sure he was gagging with the overkill. But this was a true story of love conquering all. And it was beautiful.

David Crowder writes of a similar experience with God in his song You Are My Joy:

And He set me on fire and I am burning alive
With his breath in my lungs, I am coming undone
And I cannot hold it in and remain composed
Love’s taken over me and so I propose
To letting myself go, I am letting myself go
You are my joy!

St. John of the Cross reiterates the idea: "The power of love and desire makes one bold. The intoxication of love gives the soul crazy courage."

I love God but I have this pesky worry that my love must not be enough because I still fear so much when it comes to expressing that love. I fear public prayer. I fear public worship. I fear appearing too "churchy" to the secular world. I do hold back. I can't seem to let myself go, especially around people who know me well. I wonder if this means I fear man more than I fear God. And even though I know those kinds of priorities are screwed up to high heaven, I don’t know how to fix it.

When I chicken out, I feel disappointed in myself. In the situation with the boy, my love overcame my fear after only a few months, but I've been a Christian for several years now and I still get shaky hands and knocky knees at the very thought of praying outloud in large groups or worshipping the way I want to.

1 John 4:18 says that perfect love casts out fear. And while I know my love isn't perfect, God's love is. So why am I still terrified? What am I doing wrong? When does the fear leave? Does it leave? Can love overtake my fear, or are those song lyrics beautiful poetry and nothing more? Do I have to act in faith while I'm still afraid in order to initiate a change? If so, ugh. Although that totally sounds like something God would have me do...

Shine Through Me

I’m not trying to be all Joseph Smith about it, but sometimes God speaks to me in weird ways. Not on gold plates, but it has happened on metal license plates - a story for another day. He's also used my dog to teach me truths - dog is just God spelled backwards, you know. And while historically not having been much of a fan of Apples since Eve's day, I believe God is getting quite adept at speaking through my iPod.

[pause - to allow time for Mac users to admire my geeky joke]

As silly or heretical as it might sound, I’m not kidding. God knows how much I enjoy writing and music, so I think He often uses song lyrics when He wants to communicate with me, knowing I am more surrendered in those moments than anywhere else. I have had so many experiences that began by me asking God questions or begging for confirmation mere seconds before a lyric generally, or more often extremely specifically, answered me.

One of my favorite memories was in regards to the scripture from Isaiah 60:1 – Arise, shine for your light has come and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. That verse had been playing on repeat for weeks. It sprang up and out of everything I heard and read. The words Arise and Shine echoed everywhere around me. I knew it had to be a God thing. I believe God gave me that scripture because it descriptively spoke to what I had begun to desire and seek: God's empowerment and a holy boldness to actively go forth and shine for Him.

Anyway, one day I was walking into a situation that made me nervous. It involved a person I had always found to be extremely intimidating. The old me more than likely would have avoided the entire scene. But this time I didn’t run away.

Now, I’ve heard many Christians say, “God told me …” over the years, but I never quite understood how they could be certain it was God speaking without literally hearing a voice that sounded like Charlton Heston. All I know is at that moment, I was sure in a way I can’t quite explain, God gave me some advice which helped my heart conclude what my brain had been unable to put to words: God could make me shine.

As I approached Scary Person, I began to silently repeat a prayer for God to “shine through me, shine through me…” And as silly as it might sound, it worked. I instantly felt more at ease than I can ever remember being in a situation such as this. The negative voices normally found residing in my noggin were drowned out by the edifying thud of the scripture’s simple but weighty statement. I was not necessarily confident in myself, but I was confident of God in me.

I felt such faith in that small prayer because I think it might be the purest of prayers I have ever prayed. I believed that asking God to shine through me was the kind of prayer that would be answered without hesitation. I also knew that if God was shining through me, others would see it and respond to that light. And if for some reason they didn't, then they were really rejecting God and not me, which took off quite a bit of pressure.

Since that experience I’ve continued to exhale that same silent plea for God to shine when walking into any awkward situation. And He does. And the response has been amazing.

I was overjoyed at the effectiveness of this revelation, so I told several people about it. One particular friend's response was to look at me rather oddly. I assume he thought I had gone crazy - or else he just had an eyelash in his eye - I can’t be quite sure. But as my brain is prone to do when given such a reception, it galloped off into Doubtville, quenching my previous confidence. Was this scripture truly for me? Was this concept of shining really from God? Or was I just losing my mind?

I went into church service with my thoughts playing mental Pong, but as the worship band kicked off, God rocked it out. The first song they played was Arise. I smirked a little at the coincidence. The band ended with a song called Shine. The smirk turned into a big grin. As they reached the final chorus of the song and sang out, “Holy, holy, holy Lord, shine through me!” I threw my head back and laughed.

God confirming scripture. God confirming truth. God making me giggle. And me - falling more and more in love with a God who can speak so sweetly.

I'm Mental

Anyone in Christ is a new creation.
The old is gone, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17

So, tonight at small group we talked about how the mean words and biting criticism we received during our formative years have helped to shape us into the adults we have become. A painful childhood is a pretty common story, I think. Adam and Eve are probably the only people in history to not identify with such trauma.

Mark Twain once said that life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings but mostly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one's head. I am becoming more and more aware of the libraries of negative thoughts queued up and continually looping in my brain, but it wasn't always so clear to me. I am beginning to see how over time, this corrupt data has built a dangerous altar of deception that has drastically reshaped the skyline of my reality into one of discouragement and fear. (Wow, that was really overdramatic - but true).

One of my favorite movie scenes is from the film Pretty Woman. Julia Roberts plays a hooker named Vivian and Richard Gere her wealthy john, named Edward. They have a strange and unparalled relationship that grows into a friendship and later, a love. One night they are lying next to each other and Edward asks Vivian how she ended up as a prostitute. She tells him her hardluck story which involved family and "friends" telling her she was a nobody and would amount to nothing, and she admits she fulfilled that prophecy. Then Edward says to her, "I think you are a very bright, very special woman with a lot of potential." And she says to him, "Ever notice the bad stuff is easier to believe?"

Truer words were never spoken. The bad stuff is so much easier to believe. In my bible study, Beth Moore says, "Often satan works this way: he watches your life and figures out what you are scared you will become and then spends the rest of his time finding ways to 'confirm' that is exactly what you are." John 8:44 reiterates that lies are satan's native language and that he is the father of lies. I have wasted so much time believing lies that it makes me angry. But I am also hopeful, because I know this era is coming to a close. I know my fears don't have to be my destiny.

Our small group leader said knowing the Bible is helpful in this struggle because it deconstructs the negative ideas we hold about who we are and rebuilds us as new creations of Christ. In this way, it becomes a weapon in our lives and helps us to "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5).

Rick Renner says we have to take charge of our minds and learn how to speak to ourselves rather than listen to ourselves. I am learning to speak God's Word to myself. Sometimes it works, other times not so much. 28 years of habit can be hard to break.

Eggshells

I think the suckiest thing about panic attacks are obviously the panic attacks themselves. But I think the weirdest thing about panic attacks is the reactional aftermath. Not with me, but with those who witnessed me have the attack. I mean, truthfully I feel a little like a sane person accidentally dropped off at a psych ward that is trying to reason with the unbelieving staff! Their exaggerated happiness feels forced and patronizing. It annoys me to no end. They speak loudly and slowly, like an ignorant American attempting to communicate with someone who doesn't speak English: "How....are....YOU....today?" they question, with extra large eyes and an overly wide smile. I think they expect my head to start spinning. Perhaps some pea soup to spray out of my mouth? It's kind of embarassing.

Or maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Modus Operandi

Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. 1 Peter 5:8

There is a scene in the movie Jurassic Park where a sad victim unfortunately learns up-close-and-personal about the hunting methods of velociraptors, a carnivorous species of dinosaur. They travel in packs, and as one stands in front of the prey to distract his attention, the other raptors take him out from the sides. I feel like satan attacks this way. I find myself fixed in the direction I am assuming he will be throwing punches, feeling rather confidant with all my defenses up in expectation, and as I get surprisingly steamrolled from the side, I think, "Wow, never saw that coming!"

My latest sideways assault came tonight at a concert. I was feeling fine, enjoying the bands, footlose and fancy free - and then I got blasted by a huge panic attack. It came out of nowhere. It happened so fast this time: the spasms in my chest which seem to always preclude an event; a racing heart; the shakes; hot flashes; sweat.

1 Peter 5:7 says: "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you," and Phillipians 4:6-7 says: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." But in the midst of the tidal waves of overwhelming emotions and irrational fears and harsh physical reactions, I can't bring myself to conjure a single lucid thought, let alone remember to call on God for help. The limited options I have found myself electing in the thick of it are Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! and RUN RUN RUN!

I started having panic attacks about a year and a half ago, right after I became a Christian. My pastor told me it might be a response to giving up control to God, or perhaps one last attempt by satan to keep me from trusting Him, or most likely, a combination of the two. I saw a counselor who helped me deal with the attacks themselves, as well as figuring out the underlying causes behind why I was having them. I have struggled with anxiety every now and then since those visits but have not had another full fledged panic attack until tonight.

They make me feel so silly because I see it as me attacking myself. That my own head is causing all of this. The worst kind of toxic relationship. And I begin to feel like a loony bird. It makes me feel like crying. And I want to run out of wherever I am to a safer place - a place where I can hide and be a loony bird and no one will know or see but me. But this time I denied my normal inclinations and grabbed two friends, brought them into the other room and asked them just to sit and talk with me til it was over. And eventually, it was.

But what I want to know is, if everything that happens to us has to be filtered through God's fingers to come to pass, why is God giving His OK to this mess? Why couldn't I have "suffered" from something more appealing? Like an overly active metabolism, a grossly excessive income, or too cute a nose? Ugh, I hate it.

But Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:7-9: To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

So, maybe my anxiety is the thorn in my flesh, the torment which reminds me that I can't do this on my own. I'm sure I've pleaded with God way more than three times to take it away from me, so I guess it does continually bring me back to Him. But apparently his magnanimous grace is more than sufficient, even for my pathetic self-inflicted weaknesses.

I wish I felt that was true as much as I know it is true.