Finding Rest

A reminder that tomorrow we will commit to praying and fasting for God to bring marriage to those of us who desire it, to strengthen both men and women in their personal and relational lives, and to bring change within our hearts, minds, and spirits.

As I write today the wind blusters and howls outside like a tempest.  The skies are blue, but the position of my home on a small body of water, combined with the narrow street corridors through the community creates the perfect environment for the wind to whip and howl as though it’s the middle of November.  The relentless sound of the wind makes me antsy and nervous, and I have to consciously center myself and find the way towards peace and calm.

Today, however, I appreciate the wind because it brings me back to the importance of staying mindful and present in the midst of whatever storms life brings me and letting God be the source of my peace.  I have always been someone quick to worry and fear.  Only in my 30’s have I finally realized that worry and fear are my own attempts at maintaining an illusory control over things I have no control over whatsoever.  If I can think my way out of a worst-case scenario possibility, then I’ll know what to do if and when that thing ever happens.  I do offer myself grace, knowing that these coping mechanisms developed early in life in response to some very difficult circumstances.  And yet it is not God’s best for me.  In relying on my own illogical “worry-my-way-to-peace” rationale, I rob myself of the opportunity to grow in intimacy with Jesus through letting him to shoulder my burdens and walk next to me through the many things that make me afraid.

A moment ago God brought me a sweet image from early childhood:  that of lying peacefully on my father’s chest as he rested, enjoying the easy rise and fall of his breathing, listening to his steady heartbeat.  This is one of the most safe, secure memories I have as a young girl.  And with that image came this verse:

 “The beloved of the Lord rests in safety.  The High God surrounds him all day long.  The beloved rests between His shoulders.”  Deuteronomy 33:12

The things we face in this life are painful and unpredictable.  In this month alone I’ve watched a dear friend’s mother unexpectedly pass away, my own mother get screened for cancer and endure a kidney stone procedure, walked through a serious crisis with a client in my therapy practice, and feared that (as a single 36 year-old) I’ll continue facing these types of difficulties without a partner as the years pass.  I know those of you reading this are in the midst of your own challenges and pain, perhaps wondering how to find rest on God’s shoulders.  Here are a couple of things that have helped me recently on this journey:

1)    Our job is to stay in the ‘here and now’:  In Jesus’ words, “Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own”.  (Matthew 6:34).  By doing what we can to stay present we have more space to invite Jesus in when things fall apart.

2)    We are to practice radical trust and dependence:  Resting securely involves trust.  To really rest involves letting down our guard and believing that whomever’s in charge knows what they’re doing.  Before we can rest on God’s shoulders, we need to internalize that He is for us, and always, always has our best interest at heart.

Easier said than done, yes.  But each tiny step we make towards growing our ability to stay present and mindful, as well as risking in trust, also grows our chance to experience God as the safe harbor He is.  And I don’t know what better way to face the storms and tempests of life than by finding rest in the God of the universe.

Many blessings,

Kirsten

The Marriage Calculator

This is your reminder that we are praying for women to be open to their hearts and where they might need to be changed, for men to walk uprightly, and for marriage to be granted to those who desire it.

Even though life is never so tidy, I still have a bad habit of trying to figure everything out.  In terms of singleness, it often takes the form of a giant mental calculator where marriage is the end goal and various life choices have point values.  And somehow, when you get over a certain number of points - voila! – spouse!  So I would assign these mental points to ridiculous things: good hair, education, good music taste, date frequency, amount of time spent single, etc.

And it would be this ridiculous calculation: Oh, of course, she’s getting married…she deserves it.  She is so sweet to everyone (+10 points), has classy but not pretentious taste (+5 points), looks good in skinny jeans (+10 points), had a bad breakup before this boy (+5 points), and is co-leading a small group at a singles-rich church (+15 points).  

Unfortunately this habit also backfired when people didn’t fit into my calculator very well: Wait, she’s 22 (-10 points), her entire life plan is to get married and have kids (-20 points), she has never had another boyfriend (-5 points) and now she’s marrying a tall, dark and smart 30-year old Christian guy (-2974 points)?!?  Does not compute!

The sad thing is that I have applied this “logic” with abandon and often unconsciously.  And not surprisingly, I have had to come face to face with the lies underneath my little calculator:

• Lie: The goal is getting married.  Again, my silly habit of assuming the next thing, whatever it is, is the thing.  The thing that will answer all my questions and quiet my heart’s fears and solve all my problems.  Yeah.  Mmmhmm.  Not happening, Amy.  The goal that God has in mind is Christ-likeness and his methods may or may not involve marriage.  My job is to trust and obey what I see today.

• Lie: All I need to do now is figure out how to get more points.  For me, this always boils down to the ultimate “lose 10-15 pounds and win an extra 50 bonus points!”  This is the lie underneath so many others — that if I were more or less of something, I would have been married by now.  That’s it somehow my fault I’m not married and it is now my responsibility to “fix” it.  God doesn’t need my points to bring a spouse, if that’s His will.  And all the fake points I could ever accumulate will never entitle me to a spouse.  What He wants from me is a trust-driven relationship right here, right now.

• Lie: God’s gifts are somehow related to our merit.  It doesn’t matter how much I know in my head this is the greatest lie of them all, my thoughts and actions often belie the fact that my trust has shifted to something other than His grace.  Time to reread Romans 5.

I stumbled across Deuteronomy 7:6-9 which drove the point home.  At the risk of comparing marriage to the Promised Land (bear with me), I think verse seven most caught my attention.  God emphasizes that it was despite Israel’s lack of qualifications that they were chosen as His people.  The choice was God’s own and his choosing is in complete alignment with His essential and unchanging character: the faithful, powerful, steadfast, loving, covenant-keeping God.  On some level, it’s not about Israel at all – it’s about God’s persistent redemptive purposes toward His people.

And that resonated so much with me and my pathetic life calculator.  Spouses (and all of God’s good gifts) flow directly from the fact that He is gracious and loves us at great cost.  As we fast and pray this Monday, I want to dismantle my calculator and simply reflect on the vastness and depth of His mercy toward me.  I can trust that He is working His redemptive purposes for me in this very day, and to rest in His plan – no matter what direction it leads!

Praying with you,

Amy

The Calling for Those Who Wait – correction

Hi Fast-Prayers, The correct link for continuing to read the post from today is here. Or you can cut and paste this link: http://everybitterthingissweet.com/2012/05/the-calling-for-those-who-wait/

Sorry for the mistake!

Anne

The Calling for Those Who Wait

We are fasting and praying again this Monday for God to work change in us, work change in men, and give the gift of marriage.

One of the blogs I follow is Sara Hagerty’s Every Bitter Thing is Sweet.  I love her heart for God, her honest grapplings with the struggles of life, and her amazing story of adopting 4 children: 2 from Ethiopia and 2 from Uganda.  She knows the pain of wondering when or if the expected next chapter of life (whether that is marriage or motherhood or a new career) will start.

Friday a guest blogger on Sara’s site, Judy Lewis, posted her story of grappling with the confusion and disappointment of prolonged singleness.  It was a great post, and encouraging in particular for those for whom Mother’s Day is hard. So, I wanted to link our blog with Every Bitter Thing is Sweet this Sunday. Enjoy!

As the years without a husband and children continued to beat by, I ached. At 35, I raged.  Come 40, I just got sad. Tick, tock, tick, tock—the rhythm of timeescorted me further from a woman’s greatest calling. Wasn’t I created to be a husband’s helper? A child’s shelter? Who would I help and shelter alone in my apartment?

In church I noticed that the key efforts centered around moms with school-age children and married couples. Most sermons and Sunday school classes paid detailed attention to these partial demographics. I felt left out. And I felt confused.

In my span of girlfriends young and old, I began to wonder about a woman’s “helpfulness”. My mom friends, especially with young children, did not seem to be relishing their “greatest calling.” And my widow and older friends were no longer in the 24/7 helper role. What’s wrong with this picture? I asked.

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Got Tenderness?

This is your reminder that we are fasting and praying during what would be Monday lunch for:  1) marriages for those who are made for it, 2) courage for men to walk into marriage, and 3) courage for women to change where we need to change.

 So, it’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m sitting reading , “An Echo in the Darkness” (2nd novel in a trilogy).  I’m burning through pages as I come to the climatic God-encounter of one of the main characters.  Then, I’m bursting out crying.  Need-a-kleenex kind of crying.

Quickly, though, a vague self-consciousness hits me–here I am, alone, on a Sunday afternoon, reading a book whose cover mortifies me (the author, Francine Rivers, is a good writer, but before she became a believer, she wrote romance novels, and this cover appears to be in that same stream)…and, I’m all gushy.   “Oh Connally,” I say to myself, “You’re such a sap.”

But as I end the chapter, I begin to rethink my slightly shameful “you’re such a sap” indictment.  Actually, a change of heart like this character has finally experienced is the kind of heart change I want to see in myself and in those I know and love.  Thinking about it, I realize:  tears are totally appropriate.  My self-indictment flips 180 degrees:  ”Lord, help me to fully feel the weight and beauty of deep-encounters with Jesus, be they in my own life or in the lives of others, including those yet to know You.”

In a world where as a single women we are trying to have a good attitudes, stay involved with others, care about original families, nest in a spaces that may or may not be our own, engage with oftentimes difficult work or workplace dynamics, all while staying open to and responsive to the men who may or actually may not be there….it’s easy to want to shut down.  Tenderness can feel like a liability.  Better to be strong.  Be together.  Be on it.  Make it happen.  Don’t be a sap.

Unfortunately, though, this “tenderness as liability” impulse can seep into our relationships (with prospective mates as well as to others).  Instead of offering our tenderness, we smush it down hoping to present a shiny, strong, together, on-it self.  At least I do.  But what if I’ve gotten it wrong?  What if presentation isn’t nearly as important as giving the gift to God and others–regardless of our marital or dating status–of an alive heart?  What if like Nehemiah did, we allow our sadness to show?  Or like David did, our joy?  What if like Paul did, we let our need for and our delight in others really reveal itself?

In a culture that seems to be hot on money, sex, and power, but cooling in terms of love and tenderness, revealing our hearts, in their vulnerability and tenderness might be one of the most radical acts of discipleship we can practice.  (And interestingly, it seemed integral to the influence that Nehemiah, David and Paul had.)  What, then, if the 711 people who subscribe to this site, prayed this week not just for husbands who might be good to our hearts and vice versa, but what if we prayed that God would bring our hearts alive and into the light, even today, for his good purposes?  What might happen?

I’m not 100% sure, but I want us to give it a try.  Because I’m convinced that in spite of not-yet-met marital longings, our tender hearts have much to offer, even today.

With salty cheeks, a smile & a dose of anticipation, many blessings,

Connally

The (Seemingly) Eternal Ferris Wheel

A reminder that tomorrow we will commit to praying and fasting for God to bring marriage to those of us who desire it, to strengthen both men and women in their personal and relational lives, and to bring change within our hearts, minds, and spirits. 

A few months ago some girlfriends and I took a weekend trip down to Southern California and Disneyland.  While there we spent an afternoon at California Adventure, a companion park to Disneyland, and after riding several roller coasters decided to take a respite on a seemingly benign ferris wheel with Mickey’s innocent head gracing the center.  Only, as we learned soon enough, this was no ordinary ferris wheel.  Our compartment was an enclosed cage that not only swung back and forth, but unexpectedly slid down spokes of the wheel as it turned.  Inside the cage we had no way to predict when or how the compartment would move or when the ride would be over.  Just when the wheel slowed and we were sure we could get off, up it would go again.  The four of us are roller coaster enthusiasts and all of us were caught off guard at how this simple little ride rocked our wills…and stomachs.  (Okay, maybe just my stomach).

Today, as my brain rattled in preparation to write, I surprised myself at connecting this journey of singleness with being on the ferris wheel.  I’ve always thought of it as more of a roller coaster: Up, down, loop through loop.  But the truth is that with a roller coaster there’s at least some idea of the track’s direction and when the ride will stop.  On the ferris wheel the cage limited our vision such that all perspective was lost.  Of course this was just a ride that did eventually stop and provided many laughs and more than enough embarrassing pictures that should any of us feel the need to blackmail one another at a later date, we’ll be set.

But the ride we take in our single lives is very different.  We hope the wheel will stop, but can’t guarantee when or if it will.  Sometimes we scream and bang on the walls of the cage demanding to be set free.  Sometimes we circle and slide round and round, too tired to scream, with resignation or bitterness in our hearts.  And then there are the blissful moments when the ride does briefly stop (as it did in the park to let others on or off), and we sit gently rocking, quiet and content in the present moment, peaceful with what is.  We breathe, get our bearings, gather our resolve, say a prayer, and root into our identities as Jesus’ beloved daughters and sons.

Roots.  On a ride that shifts, changes, rocks and rolls, roots are what we need.  Roots that bury deep into the rich soil of God’s love and delight in who we are, exactly as we are.  This is how we can endure the unpredictability of the ferris wheel, because when we hold tightly to our identity as God’s Beloved we start to shed the false notion that our relationship status is all that defines us.  Only when I work on claiming this identity do I become more aware of how I frequently over-attach to the part of myself that longs for relationship.  Remembering that I am beloved of Christ gives the other more hidden parts of myself – the parts that don’t live on the ferris wheel – permission to come forward and I feel a bit more grounded, a bit more balanced.

We are more than what the ferris wheel dishonestly tells us we are:  people simply buffeted around by any number of things we can’t control in the single life.  It may not be realistic to get off the ride completely.  But in more fully owning our God-given identity my hope is that the ride will become more peaceful and less fearful.  This is my prayer for all of you as the week begins.

In His Love,

Kirsten

 

Hope When Hope is Deferred

This is your reminder that we are fasting and praying during what would be Monday lunch for 1) marriage for those who are designed for it, 2) the courage for men to walk upright and into marriage, and 3) the courage for women to see where we need to change and to change.  And as you pray, you might consider these words from our guest writer, Joanne.  She’s been subscribing to the blog for a while, but this week she’s writing for us.

————–

He was 40 years old, and finally, the moment he’d waited for his entire life had come. He could picture the life ahead in that beautiful, spacious land, a place of fruitfulness and joy.  But due to circumstances beyond his control—the sin of others, in this case—Caleb’s moment passed, thrusting him back into the wilderness he thought he was leaving.

Caleb lived his whole life as a slave. Then came Moses, who led his nation out of Egypt accompanied by so many miracles that Caleb couldn’t help but anticipate the future. When the moment came to spy out the Promised Land, he was ready to take it.

His comrades, with the exception of Joshua, were not. They refused to believe that they could conquer and receive what God had promised them. As a result, the entire generation would wander in the wilderness for another 40 years.

Talk about hope deferred. How did Caleb survive?

His story is a timely one for me as I write just weeks before my fortieth birthday. I can’t imagine Caleb’s life of slavery, but I can identify with reaching one’s fortieth year—the zenith of life, perhaps—and facing deep disappointment that what you waited for your whole life has not yet happened.

For me—as for many of you—those dreams include marriage and motherhood, plus a few other things. Like Caleb, I feel as if my circumstances are beyond my control.

But God didn’t forget Caleb. Right at his moment of disappointment, he received a new promise. While his faithless peers were promised death in the wilderness, Caleb was assured that he would one day inherit the land he had seen (Numbers 14:20-30).

It was a promise of God’s goodness and faithfulness, no matter what generational disobedience surrounded him. Although God’s intended purpose seemed to be thwarted for Caleb, it wasn’t. A day of redemption was coming.

I believe that’s a promise for the many fortyish—as well as twentyish or thirtyish—unmarried women who love God as Caleb did. I have no idea how many more years of singleness you or I may face. I don’t know what God’s plan for motherhood may look like for us. But what I know, as Caleb knew, is that God’s good purpose for us has not been thwarted, despite whatever societal sins and philosophies have hindered marriage. We have not been, will not be, overlooked by our Father.

Caleb was 85 when he finally arrived in the Promised Land. Yet, he said, “As yet I am as strong this day as on the day that Moses sent me; just as my strength was then, so now is my strength for war, both for going out and for coming in” (Joshua 14:11).

Caleb reminds me to steward well the season of delay, meeting God’s provision with thanksgiving instead of complaining, believing in God’s goodness instead of doubting it. Caleb fought for his inheritance all those years by living in faith, marrying, having children—rejoicing fully in what God had for him at that time, yet never losing sight that greater things were coming.

Because Caleb believed his future was worth fighting for, so was his present. When the future arrived, he was not disappointed. Redemption flourished in his aged body, and with a vigor and faith greater than that of the others, he rushed forward to receive his promise—no resentment, no regrets.

As we continue to contend for our futures through fasting and prayer, let’s fight for greater hope and vitality today; this way, we will be fully prepared when it’s our day to enter into God-given, new relational territory.

Joanne Chantelau lives in Franklin, TN, where her favorite writing times take place in front of a sunny window, with a cup of tea. You can read more of her work at www.joannechantelau.com.