Phenomenal protection

Since I use this blog to process the things that are happening in my life, and since I’ve currently been dealing with some health issues, that’s what I’m going to write about today. Thanks in advance for reading. (And maybe this post could also be titled “Things that make you go Hmmmmm.”)

The other day during one of my quiet times -- maybe about a month ago? -- I don’t remember His exact words, but God basically told me, “I’ve been preserving your life.” I also don’t remember the exact passage of scripture that I was reading or thinking about at the time, but it may have been this one...

“The Lord shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul. The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in from this time forth, and even forevermore.” (Psalm 121:7-8)

Perhaps you remember me mentioning in a previous post about how I’ve lost a ton of weight ever since I lost my last full-time job. In that same post, I also mentioned how I had a weird health scare in which my right arm and leg felt tingly and numb for a few days (not quite as intense as the scare that I had two Thursdays ago that sent me to the ER). Now that I FINALLY have some health insurance, I’ve finally begun to get some answers.

In addition to having high blood pressure, I’ve been diagnosed with a heart murmur. I’ve been making some lifestyle changes that I had been trying to do before all this stuff hit the fan (trying to exercise, trying to watch my salt intake, trying to eat foods that can lower a person’s blood pressure). And it’s interesting that I’ve been dealing with all of this shortly after going back to school full-time, not working full-time. I actually HAVE some time to devote to myself.

Which reminds me of something that God told me a few months ago: “You’re more important than finding a job.”

Did the stress of going back to school, the stress of finding part-time work, or the stress of my financial situation in general contribute to my current health crisis? Maybe. But at the doctor’s office earlier this week, I was told that this has been brewing for quite some time.

I’ve known that I’ve had high blood pressure for at least a decade or so, but it’s never been officially diagnosed or treated (until now). And I’ve known that my genetics could put me at risk for blood pressure and heart issues. And I’ve done what I can do to take care of myself -- although now I understand that I need to up the ante.

But I can only do so much to help myself. I think Somebody else has been taking care of the rest.

 

In the past month or so, I’ve felt myself lose even more weight. It’s been confirmed at the healthcare facilities in which I’ve weighed in around 143 -- while I was wearing jeans and shoes. (I don’t think my dinky little scale at home works very well, unless I suddenly gained 7 pounds in the past few days. I mean, I’ve had a hard time keeping my pajama pants up, even though I’ve been keeping the drawstrings pretty tight.)

So, I’ve lost about 40 pounds in the past year and a half. That weight loss has been mostly involuntary (with some intentional exercise and a short spurt of physically demanding work) due to a loss of income. And, not to mention, due to the loss of that huge pantry of free food and soda that was available to me at my previous full-time workplace. I wasn’t able to find a way to earn the same amount of income that I had been earning a year and a half ago, which forced me to spend less money on food and to eat less. Consequently, I had seen my weight loss as a problem.

But what if it was actually a blessing? What if it was actually a HUGE way of God protecting me?

With my current health issues, I think I would have been ordered to lose weight. But what if I had ended up getting a cushy, well-paying job that wouldn’t have forced me to lose weight? What if I had stayed heavier and THEN had stroke symptoms or developed heart issues? Would I still be alive?

While I was thinking about that this morning, God basically had a knowing smirk on His face and was like, “Now do you believe Me?” Yes, Lord, now I believe You. I trust You. Usually when He and I have this type of conversation, He’ll say something like, “Not bad, huh?” Nope. Not bad at all.

A little while ago, I was doing some research about my new blood pressure medicine, and I learned that it was recalled a few months ago -- but only when coupled with a certain heart medicine -- I believe due to a cancer-causing carcinogen. What if I had received medical attention and begun treatment for my blood pressure and heart murmur several months ago? Would I have been prescribed the drug combination that was recalled? Would I have been exposed to something that could have given me cancer -- on top of everything else?

I like seeing God work. And now it looks like my life is depending on it.

“Who is the man who desires life, and loves many days, that he may see good? Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit. Depart from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.” (Psalm 34:12-14)

“Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.” (Psalm 50:15)

“He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” (Psalm 23:3)

I’ve heard that when you restore something, like an antique car, you take it apart and put it back together again. God has been in the process of restoring me. From what I understand, He’s been taking apart the different components that make up my life -- my emotional component, my spiritual component, etc., and now my physical component. I’ve been told that all of these components are connected, and now I understand more than ever how one or more can affect the others.

So, my word for 2019 is “phenomenon/phenomenal.” Just as 2018 was “the year of the ‘suddenly,’ ” 2019 is “the year of the close call.” At least, that’s how it is for me.

And it’s not all about me. God wants to preserve your life, too. It’s OK. You can trust Him.

Thursday

Thursday is pretty much my favorite day of the week. I’m not exactly sure why, but it seems like anything can happen on a Thursday. I got saved on a Thursday. Jesus ate the Last Supper, prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, and was arrested on a Thursday. My choir usually practices on a Thursday, and awesome things usually happen when we all hang out together. Thursday is just a magical day.

As I was saying, anything can happen on a Thursday... and it did.

 

In case you haven’t heard, I went to the ER on Thursday. I woke up that morning after I had barely slept; I had been fighting some kind of cold, and the medicine I took didn’t knock me out like a good generic version of NyQuil should. But I prepared for a busy day. While I was taking a shower, my right hand and arm felt like they were on pins and needles, and my right leg felt the same way. I saw spots (which I usually do because I’m nearsighted) that were more pronounced than usual, and my vision felt like it was caving in, as if I were about to faint.

It seemed like something was very wrong. I felt like I wanted to lie down and sleep, but I knew if I did, it would be a bad thing. I prayed and asked God to not let me die, and I asked Him to make sure that MeepMeep would be OK. What the heck was happening? Did I have some weird kind of infection like meningitis? Was I having a heart attack?

I finished my shower as best I could, and when I got out of the bathroom, I was panting for breath. I ate breakfast and felt a little better. I called around to see what kind of medical attention I could get with my health insurance, and I decided to go to an urgent care center. (I also figured that if I was well enough to do some research, maybe I wasn’t that sick.)

At the urgent care center, the nurse took my blood pressure a couple of times, I explained the weird symptoms I had had earlier, and she said they needed to do an EKG. As soon as I had stripped down for the procedure, the nurse practitioner burst into the room and told me that I needed to go to the ER because my blood pressure was strokeworthy. She explained that they would give me an IV and send me to a hospital in an ambulance.

The paramedics arrived as soon as the urgent care team performed the EKG. (I heard the siren blaring in the distance and was like, “Wow. Is that for me?”) It was freezing outside, so they put a blanket over me as I was escorted to the emergency vehicle. The paramedics performed a second EKG. I looked at the monitor and, if I remember correctly, my blood pressure was around 236/126. During the ambulance ride, I looked out the window and saw cars on the highway driving toward me. (I’ve lived in the Metroplex for a significant portion of my life, and it was cool to not see the backs of cars for once.)

At one point, I looked over at the empty seat next to me in the ambulance. Either in my mind’s eye or in my spirit, I saw Somebody sitting next to me. I was like, Oh, it’s an angel! And God was like, “No, it’s Me.” Then He kind of hovered in front of my face like He often does and smiled like a proud Papa who was just checking on me. (Or maybe just hanging out with me.)

After we arrived at the ER, the entire emergency team gave me immediate attention. They hooked me up to an EKG machine yet again and performed the test a third time. They administered two doses of medication until my blood pressure was brought down to 184/93, and then they discharged me. The diagnosis was malignant hypertension, which I’ve now been in the process of taking care of.

I’ll use this paragraph for comic relief. You know you’re alive in 2019 when... your first order of business in the ER is to get your phone out of your purse and start snapping selfies for social media. You know the healthcare industry is out of touch with America when... their idea of de-stressing you for high blood pressure is to inform you that your ER visit will cost $4,000. You know you’re wet behind the ears when... you ask the nurse if he needs his EKG stickers back after he discharges you.

Actually, he kindly informed me that they come off with hot water in the shower. I shared a photo earlier in this post of all three types of stickers that were adhered to me. (I was still scraping off the adhesive from my skin this morning. That stuff is strong.) I haven’t heard anything yet regarding my test results, so I’m hoping that means I didn’t have a heart attack, a weird infection, or any other medical abnormality.

But I think I did almost have a stroke.

“As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds His people from this time forth and forever.” (Psalm 125:2)

After I settled back home and started to process everything, I felt like God showed me that He allowed all of this to happen so that I could see that I was surrounded. Friends all over social media prayed for me and offered to help. Friends dropped by my apartment and showered me with generous gifts. Friends checked on me to see how I was doing.

I love that.

As I type this, I am not 100%. I’ve been recovering from my Thursday scare, and I’ve been trying to make some lifestyle adjustments that will help me in the long run. (My grandmother died after a massive heart attack, my other grandmother died after a series of strokes, and although they were both wonderful women, I don’t want to follow in their footsteps.) And I’m still fighting whatever cold or infection that I was fighting before I had my blood pressure incident. I’m exhausted. But interestingly, God doesn’t seem worried.

Earlier today while I was lying down and talking to God -- maybe in the same way that King Hezekiah had a heart-to-heart with Him, except that I wasn’t on my deathbed -- He and I had an interesting conversation. He showed me a picture of a road marker, like the kind you would see on a highway; it said “Been there, done that.” He also reminded me of the word “chazaq,” which is Hebrew for “strong.” And He reminded me that He had told me earlier to power through this season like a champ. So, I think I know what I need to do.

I’m not going to curl up in a fetal position and give up. And I’m not going to be some irresponsible kid and neglect my body. I know who I am. I know that God has good plans for me. I know that He still wants me here.

And I know that the devil hates me. (Just like he hates you.) This morning, I did my street-fight style of spiritual warfare in my living room and informed the dark forces that I’m not quitting.

So, I’m going to take care of myself as best I can. I’m a survivor, I’m surrounded with help, and I’m going to do everything I can to make this crazy life work. God is here, He’s helping me, and He’s available to lean on.

“ ‘What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to the pit? Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your truth? Hear, O Lord, and have mercy on me; Lord, be my helper!’ You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, to the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever.” (Psalm 30:9-12)

The dark forces can put that in their pipe and smoke it. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.

The menudo fast

My church recently finished a 21-day corporate fast. No, I didn’t fast from menudo. But it sure made for some great clickbait, didn’t it?

So, when I prayed about how I was going to fast this time, I felt like God wanted me to fast for only 15 days. (I broke this past Tuesday.) God said I could eat “soup or whatever is put in front of you.” That was fun because one morning, doughnuts were in front of me. And God was OK with that. (And I was also instructed to drink my morning coffee black during the 15 days. No dunking.)

In case you’re reading this and wondering why I’m writing about fasting, well, God and I have kind of developed fasting as a sort of family tradition over the years. In June, I observe a two-week salad fast; in January, I observe a soup fast. Both fasts usually end up kicking my butt, but I’m glad that I get to eat something. And I like to write here about what I learn.

 

This time around, since I’ve been extremely tight on funds, I mainly used whatever was in my kitchen. So, I made a lot of my own soups. I also felt like God kept nudging me to make “dessert soup,” so on a couple of occasions I crumbled up some cookies into a bowl, added milk, and microwaved it. (Whoever thinks God is boring doesn’t know Him very well.)

Whenever I’ve fasted in recent years, it’s been more about God talking to me through the symbolism than about whatever it is I’m giving up. 

 

One day, since I didn’t have any chicken or vegetable stock handy, I decided to make my own stock out of red sauce (I think the kind you would use to make enchiladas). I didn’t realize how spicy that would be... especially after I added even more spices to it. The result was something almost inedible, but as the days went by I would add extra things to the soup like rice or oyster crackers to make it more palatable. Then it would taste like menudo. I felt like I was on a menudo fast.

But when the soup was still almost inedible, I was like, “WHOO! That’s spicy.” God was like “So are you.” Ha, ha.

Yes, if you’ve known me in recent years (or if you’ve just been curious enough to stick around and see what would happen to me), you’ve probably seen me fly off the handle a time or two. So, I got to wondering what kind of things God adds to ME to make ME more palatable. Then I remembered...

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

Hmm. Yes, that would do it.

I also wondered why God wanted me to fast for only 15 days. So, I started looking into the number 15, and according to a website that I found, the number 15 in the Bible symbolizes rest. Hmm. I’ve been through some stuff and could definitely use some rest.

I also got to thinking about the type of fasting I was doing. What’s so special about soup? Well, if it was floating around in a bowl, cup, mug, etc., I could eat it. That was the boundary. Or if I were attending a special event where a specific type of food was served (not soup), I could eat that.

I don’t think it’s an accident that I went back to school while I was fasting. My life has made a sudden shift in direction, as I am now a full-time college student again. During the first week of school, I found myself missing my old college roommate (from the 1990s). I didn’t have anyone interrupting my studies to chitchat, and I didn’t have anyone planning to eat dinner with me every night, so I was able to stay intensely focused on my studies... which I didn’t really do the first time I was in college. But I felt my old workaholic tendencies click on again (the ones that drove me to volunteer for overtime and not have any kind of life while I was working). So, it’s not an accident that I was thinking about boundaries and about how I need to set some new boundaries for myself during this new season.

One thing that will help is that I will start a new part-time job on Monday. I haven’t worked in the past two weeks, and I don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent next week -- other than the fact that God will continue to provide. But I think one reason why I have peace about it -- besides the fact that God will continue to provide -- is that He’s been training me to simply eat what’s in front of me. Rent isn’t due today; it’s not in front of me. Today was my Sabbath; rest was in front of me. I got to gobble that all up. And have I mentioned the fact that God will continue to provide?

The next time I hit the books, there won’t be any reason to obsess over everything that will be due between now and May, and there won’t be any reason to freak out about something that I won’t be able to start working on right away. What I’ll need to focus on is simply what’s in front of me.

Hmm. Now I want menudo.

Phenomenon

I recently began working on jigsaw puzzles in my spare time. I got the idea while I was listening to a church message in which the teacher compared the process of putting a puzzle together to living in the Kingdom of God. So, of course, my mind has stolen that metaphor and run with it.

 

Many years ago, I think I bought this puzzle for my family so that we could put it together, and I think we did once or twice. The other day, I fished it out of my closet and thought I’d work on it... but I soon discovered that a 1,000-piece puzzle was a very ambitious project for just one person. No wonder it takes an entire family to put a puzzle together. I did it myself, but it took me several days (over two weekends). I spent hours on it. As an introvert, it was nice to kind of lose all track of time during the project. I had several seasons of The Office playing in the background while I worked on it, and that is how MeepMeep and I spent our holidays.

But watching the individual pieces come together wasn’t an instant fix. It was a process.

The church teacher explained that when you put a jigsaw puzzle together, you usually start with the corners and the borders. I tried to do that with this particular puzzle, but it didn’t seem to work that well due to puzzle size and color schemes. Instead, since this particular puzzle featured different buildings and quaint scenes, I tried to work on one building and one scene at a time. Since I didn’t have enough space to lay out every piece, I kept most of them in the box and combed through them several times. Each time I went through them, I found several pieces that I needed. (And MeepMeep “helped” me, too.) Gradually, the puzzle came together.

There were several places in the puzzle that really didn’t have any reference point, so the only way to fit them together was by trial and error. There were also several times when I thought a piece would fit... but it actually didn’t, and I had to move it. But if it really fit, it was immediately obvious... and it gave me an immensely satisfying sense of accomplishment. (OK, so I’m easily entertained.)

Since this particular puzzle was so time-consuming, I felt like giving up on it a few times. There were other things I could be doing. There were other ways I could be enjoying my time off. But I decided to stick with it until I was done.

If you’re staring at a puzzle piece and wondering where the heck it’s supposed to fit into the grand scheme of things, you’re frustrated because it doesn’t seem to fit anywhere, and you’re wondering why in the world it ended up in your hands in the first place...

The Master of the puzzle knows where it goes. And He isn’t usually in a hurry to finish the puzzle.

“For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” (Romans 11:29)

The other day during my quiet time, I sang some worship songs and then placed my guitar on my living-room carpet when I was done. I looked down at my guitar and flashed back in my mind to all those other carpets that my guitar had rested on for the past 20 years. I thought about all those living rooms where I had completely lost track of time while I had worshiped, sung songs, written songs...

That’s me. That’s my home. I belong there.

About 21 years ago, as I was riding home after my college graduation, I had a revelation: “I’m right-brained!” I know. It was random. (We right-brained people are like that.) I remember kind of wishing I had known that important piece of information while I was in college. I guess it might have come in handy.

Ironically, I learned how to lead worship (and I learned what “worship music” is for the first time) while I was away at college. I graduated with a degree in something else, and yet while I was earning that degree, I found my calling without realizing it.

God showed me a long time ago that He hid my calling from my parents, and I believe He hid it from pretty much everybody else, too, including myself. Recently He reminded me about that right-brain revelation that I had 21 years ago. I believe that’s when He showed me what my calling was, in a vague, right-brained sort of way... even though I had no idea.

Perhaps He handed me a puzzle piece for safe keeping.

Then as the years went by, I eventually received more pieces of the puzzle. People in choirs would try to sit or stand next to me so that they could hear me sing their part, which kind of annoyed me until I embraced what was happening. I took a spiritual gifts test one time in which “shepherding” was my highest score, which shocked me until God showed me that I had been shepherding people pretty much my whole life. 

And then one day about six and a half years ago while I was driving home, I heard myself say, “I want to be a worship pastor so bad, it’s not even funny.” Whaaaaat? That wasn’t anywhere in my plans, goals, or dreams.

And the Master of the puzzle gradually talked me through the dream that He put inside me... the dream and the design that have been there all along.

“Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

The other day when I explained to a coworker that my schedule would probably change because I’m going back to school, she asked me what I was going to study. When I replied that I’m going to study church music, she laughed. “You have to go to school for that?” she asked. “You can’t just volunteer?” (It’s OK; that’s not the first time anyone has ever pooped on a dream of mine.)

“If you want to be on staff, you need to get training,” I explained.

I didn’t even realize that what I had been doing over the years as a church volunteer would be considered “ministry” -- being a lifegroup leader, leading worship, following up with visitors, writing discussions, praying for people, answering people’s questions, listening to people who needed somebody to talk to, writing a song, singing in a choir, etc., etc., etc.

I thought that’s what everybody did.

But maybe my cat thinks everybody knows how to purr, groom themselves with their specialized tongue, stalk prey, climb on furniture, beg for table scraps, etc., etc., etc. But they don’t. Maybe she wonders why I don’t do any of that. All of that stuff comes naturally to HER because she’s designed to be a cat.

The Master of the puzzle knows what He’s doing when He designs the pieces. And when they all begin to fit together, their design will make sense.

Over the years, He’s shown me that I’ve already been preparing for the ministry... long before I enrolled in school.

Perhaps some of my pastoral design is genetic or generational, considering that I grew up in a pastor’s house. Oh, I saw some crazy things while I was growing up. I saw people who needed to talk through some tough things with somebody. I saw people show up at the house during a pregnancy crisis or during a church-split crisis. I heard people openly criticize Dad during a meeting right before he resigned. One time, I heard about a visitor who invited Dad to her house because she had questions about a sermon that he preached about Adam and Eve. (In hindsight, I’m pretty sure she was flirting.)

That’s what shepherds do. We shovel sheep dung.

I saw my share of crazy things, too, while I was leading lifegroups. Right after college, I heard that many of the girls in my group were crushing on my co-leader, nearly fighting over him, and my section leader had to step in to take care of it because it was distracting. Years after college, when I explained that my group was a safe place to worship God freely and biblically, a visitor asked something to the effect of, “So we can take our clothes off and dance naked before the Lord like David did?” (I believe he was arrested some time after that.) Another time, after another visitor had sexually harassed somebody in our group, and was kicked out of the group as a result, he accosted me in the church foyer, grabbed my arm, and said creepily, “I forgive you.” (I’m glad my church has buff security guards.)

So, over the years, I’ve seen that I’m no stranger to the ministry.

I’ve seen my share of crazy stuff, but I’ve also seen some pretty awesome stuff. After all, we shepherds point people to the Master Shepherd.

I’ve spent time with people, poured into their lives, and seen them become happier with God than they’d ever been before. I’ve listened, I’ve shared what I’ve heard, and I’ve been told later that I ended up relaying messages that turned out to be important. And I’ve experienced how beautiful and breathtaking it is from a worship platform to see thousands of sheep expressing love to the Master Shepherd... to me, that makes it all worth it.

Because people can be silly. When they need prayer, they can sometimes treat you like a vending machine. When they’re frustrated, they can take it out on you. When they’re needy, they can forget that you’re just another human and wonder why you’re not meeting all their needs in the same way that God would. When you make a mistake, they can nail you to a cross and crucify you.

And I’ve done the same thing, too, because I’M people.

So, this is the journey that I’m on. This is the training that I’ll be formally receiving very soon. It’s an exhilarating place, but can also be kind of a scary ride. What if I feel like quitting? (God has already shown me that He’s paying for school; if I were to pay for it myself, it would be easier for me to quit.) What if it’s too hard? (I think considering everything that God has put me through so far, my soul is basically strong enough to bench-press a Buick.) What if I suck at it? (Um, I hope if I sucked at ministry-related things, somebody would have told me by now.) Why would I want to make myself a target for the enemy? (Um, I’ve kind of already BEEN a target for a long time now.) What if people hate me? (Take a number; get in line; join the club.) What if I hate being in vocational ministry? (I’ll have to ask my cat if she hates being a cat.)

What if I fall in love with the ministry? (Then I’ll live happily ever after.)

The word that God gave me for 2019 is “phenomenon,” so I know this will be a phenomenal, incredible, unique year for me.

In this post, I’ve talked about myself... but reader, I know you have your own puzzle, too. I’ll repeat what I said earlier: The Master of the puzzle knows what He’s doing when He designs the pieces. And when they all begin to fit together, their design will make sense.

No matter who joins you on your journey.

 

It’s a Wonderful Life in Review

When I was a kid, Dad was unemployed for a year and a half. During that time, Mom was the breadwinner, and I remember she paid our allowance with the tips she earned from her hairdressing job. Dad, who wasn’t using the education and experience he’d worked so hard to earn, became depressed. He used to sit on our couch and watch our VHS of It’s a Wonderful Life frequently, no matter what time of year it was.

I think I understand why. During the course of the movie, George Bailey experiences a sudden financial crisis and contemplates suicide. He’s cured of this urge when he sees what the world would have been like without him. At the end of the movie, he no longer wants to end his life, and his entire community surrounds him, celebrates his life, and supports him quite richly. People dig deeply into their pockets and make sure he has what he needs to move on.

I think it’s a bummer that Dad didn’t really experience this phenomenon for himself -- at least, not while I knew him. But I’ve experienced it. In the past 16 months especially, people have surrounded me, celebrated me, and supported me during my crises -- financially, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s amazing to see what happens when God puts you on His people’s hearts and they very generously make sure you have what you need. (Thank you!!!!!)

Sometimes you need a little time to just get your bearings so that you can move on to the next step.

 

For me, one unique thing about 2018 has been getting to see my life pass before my eyes. (Perhaps you read my thoughts about this phenomenon in a previous post.) This year, I got a chance to relive many situations, big and small, that I had already experienced in my life. It was kind of like living out a Greatest Hits album or one of those flashback episodes of a sitcom.

For example, the other day, I dusted off my old Atari and played for the first time in many years. (When I was a kid in the 80s and 90s, my sister and I were gamers before gaming was a thing.) Some of the game cartridges don’t work anymore, and I haven’t figured out how to eliminate the static from my TV screen, but the antique game console still serves its purpose. Using it made me feel like I was 12 years old again, in a good way. I would like for this to be a regular form of entertainment for me.

I experienced a ton of déjà vu this year, and I know God designed it that way for me. Pretty much whenever a situation would come along that I felt like I was experiencing all over again, I would see Him flash me an excited look in His eyes, and He’d say, “Your life before your eyes.” Heh.

Just to name a few: I enrolled in college classes, I lost a job, I started hating a job, I worked unconventional hours, I became depressed, I fought suicidal thoughts, I signed up for psychotherapy, I regrew guitar calluses on my fingertips, I fixed some issues with my car, I received free food and other cool stuff from friends, God made sure my rent was paid, and I enjoyed having a lap cat.

Sometimes when I was re-experiencing things, God would remind me that I was reliving the highlights of my life. Sometimes it felt strange at first. I was like, “Depression is a highlight?” And God was like, “OVERCOMING depression is a highlight.” Cool.

 

That part about enjoying a lap cat is pretty special. When Macho died, I lost my lap cat. (Choochie was more of a shoulder cat, like a pirate’s parrot.) But lately, MeepMeep has discovered that my lap is a good place to hang out. (Especially when I’m eating a meal and I drop some food.) If nothing else, one of the best things about this current season of my life is being at home often enough for MeepMeep to develop a closer bond with me and learn how to trust me even more.

Isn’t that how it is with God? We go through difficult things that end up pushing us closer to Him, and He sustains us through those times; and in the process, we realize that we can’t live without Him. And after the trial is over, we still cling to Him because...

As I type this, I’m having a hard time finding the words to complete that last sentence. We still cling to Him, even when things are going smoothly, because... we need Him? we realize how much we need Him? we ache when He’s not around? we love Him? the thought of Him not being close to us makes us panic? His friendship has become the most important thing in our lives? we realize more than ever that we belong to Him, so all we really want to do is just hang out with Him and His family? we realize that we’re toast without Him? we just like Him, and we don’t want to be anywhere that He’s not? we don’t ever want to break our connection with Him? we know that we would break His heart if we would ever consider leaving Him? we know we would be stupid to try? we know that we don’t belong to anybody else? we just want Him, because He wanted us first? have I mentioned that we need Him?

Yes. I think all of the above, plus whatever your heart would add to my heart-gush.

“Many sorrows shall be to the wicked; but he who trusts in the Lord, mercy shall surround him.” (Psalm 32:10)

This year hasn’t just been one long episode of déjà vu. I relearned a few things, too: how to pour out my heart to God, how to submit to authority, how to be assertive, and yet how to keep my mouth shut when I REALLY want to open it.

And I’ve learned some completely new things as well. For instance, I’m pretty much working the first job I’ve ever had that didn’t require me to sit at a desk. The schedule isn’t flexible. We have very little freedom while we’re on the clock. We can only take our break times when they tell us we can take them. And if we show up late for work, we’ll have to wait outside until somebody unlocks the door for us. (I bought a wristwatch to help me keep better track of my time.)

But one part of my life flashing before my eyes has been something that God spoke to me during a church service several years ago. He told me to “embrace awkwardness,” and He explained why: I used to be a Pharisee. Pharisees insist on everything going as perfectly as possible. That way of life doesn’t leave any room for grace. But when you’re in an awkward situation, you have to walk in grace: receiving grace for yourself and extending grace to other people. Otherwise, you’ll be miserable.

But embracing awkwardness -- embracing the fact that people will mess up, YOU’LL mess up, situations will arise that will be out of your control, and it’s OK, because that’s a natural part of life here on earth, and there won’t always be a right or wrong answer to every situation, and you won’t always have to fix everything -- leaves room for God to move. Because people will always be people; they will never be controllable robots. Awkwardness, as painful and embarrassing as it can be, leaves plenty of room for grace.

So, awkwardness is one thing that cures Pharisee-ism.

I think I’m living in the most awkward season of my life, at least schedule-wise. Since I have to be at work extremely early in the mornings, and I get off in the mornings, I sleep during prime time. Yesterday, my body wanted to go to bed at 2 p.m. (as it had the day before), but since that seemed absurd to me, especially since I don’t have to work today, I started writing this post just to keep myself awake. (I was able to make it until about 4 p.m.) I woke up naturally sometime after midnight, and now I’ll be able to finish writing this and post it waaaaay before the crack of dawn.

God has told me that this season of temp jobs is almost over and that I should enjoy it while I can. But I confess -- I’ve had trouble enjoying it. When I get off work (after only a 5- or 6-hour shift), I sit on my couch and think of all the millions of things that I should probably be doing... but am too tired to do... but then I wonder if all those millions of things are really that important. Resting is important. Sleeping is important. Enjoying my cat is important. Just being myself and enjoying the life that God has given me is important. Hmm. Maybe that’s one thing God was talking about: I need to just “be” and not sweat the small stuff. Not to mention -- when I start school again next month, I might not get many opportunities to put my feet up and just enjoy “being.”

So, I’ll enjoy. And I’ll keep trusting. And I’ll keep dreaming... because I think God is waaaaay more interested in my dreams than I am. Heh. You know, they really weren’t my ideas in the first place. They were His.

That most certainly is a wonderful life.

Thankfulness and preparation

Cooking makes me happy. Wow. There. I’ve admitted it.

If you’ve known me for a long time, you’re probably wondering what happened to me. If you’ve just met me and have seen all those food pictures that I post on Facebook, you’re probably wondering what the big deal is. Historically, I haven’t been a domestic person at all. I never really learned how to cook well because I’ve never really HAD to cook very much until last year. For the most part, I can’t afford to go out, eat out, or get takeout. So, the very idea of me cooking is kind of necessity... and kind of a miracle.

Interestingly, a few years ago I started watching Food Network shows as entertainment (because that kind of TV doesn’t make me stumble). I like to watch people teach other people how to do things (because I was raised by a teacher), and I like reality shows (because, as any therapist would tell you, I’m addicted to turmoil). Watching Food Network shows turned into watching other cooking videos on YouTube, and before I realized what was happening, I was almost becoming a foodie. (Almost, but not quite, as far as I can tell.)

Ever since I started going through my financial rough patch, very generous friends have been giving me food... which activated my natural curiosity... which was fueled by watching all those episodes of Chopped and MasterChef UK... which led to me researching recipes online (oh, my gosh, you can find almost anything on the internet)... which led to me cooking things like chicken pasta... while making my own alfredo sauce out of cream cheese (its texture is kind of like a TV dinner that’s been sitting out too long, but it’s not bad). Hmm. I wonder if I could make enchilada sauce taste good with spaghetti? (By the way, if you’ve given me food, THANK YOU!)

 

Oh, and I deep-fry my own tortilla chips now. That’s what happens when you’re out of chips but you have plenty of corn tortillas and oil. And they were awesome to snack on while I typed this.

So, cooking makes me happy. I used to hate cooking because I didn’t see the point of spending hours on a meal that only took a few minutes to eat... and forever to clean up. But I don’t hate it anymore. (I’ve even heard myself talking to my food while I cook it... cuz I’m like that.) I think I get it now. The joy is in the preparation.

You didn’t think this entire post would be about food, did you?

“For every beast of the forest is Mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills... If I were hungry, I would not tell you; for the world is Mine, and all its fullness... Offer to God thanksgiving, and pay your vows to the Most High. Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.” (Psalm 50:10, 12, 14-15)

A few months ago, I had a counseling appointment at my church. The nice lady I spoke with said that she felt like God wanted me to cultivate a thankful heart. (I was reminded later of a time several years ago when I asked for prayer at church; the nice man who prayed for me said that God wanted me to be “thankful for the weirdness” of my job at the time.) So, I’ve tried to be intentionally thankful about pretty much everything. If things were lousy at work, I was thankful to at least have something to do for eight hours. I was thankful for a paycheck. I was thankful that God brought me out here and was taking care of me.

I think I understand one reason why. At my current job, my coworkers complain. A lot. About EVERYTHING. (Gosh. Is that what I sound like when I’m having a hard time with something?) I believe one way to combat that kind of negativity is to “walk in the opposite spirit,” as we charismatics would say. In other words, instead of joining in and complaining with everybody else, I can do the opposite and just be thankful. (One of my coworkers complained about me saying “thank you” too often. Heh.)

From what I understand, Psalm 50 says that God is very serious about thankfulness. He doesn’t seem to care much about any religious sacrifices that we could make. The sacrifices He cares about are thankfulness, following through on any promises that we make to Him, crying out to Him when we’re in trouble, and glorifying Him. He wants to be respected as a Daddy who takes care of us... as a Father who’s more than powerful enough to take care of us when we need Him.

In other words, He wants us to acknowledge that He is God.

So, I’ve been trying to follow that pretty cool prayer model that’s laid out in Psalm 50: Thank You, You own all the money in the world, I’m in trouble, please help Me. My income has been cut drastically in the past month in a half, but God provided a way for me to pay this month’s rent and next month’s rent. And He miraculously provided me with $10,000 to go back to school.

Yes, you read that correctly. In case you haven’t heard yet, an anonymous donor gave extremely generously to my school account. (By the way, if that was you, THANK YOU!) My bill for the spring semester is covered, and I think most of the fall semester will be covered as well. Maybe I could try summer school, too. But I don’t want to think too far ahead.

I’m still learning how to take things one day at a time. That kind of living requires a lot of trusting in God. And He’s taking extremely good care of me. (And hopefully I can use my big mouth to glorify Him instead of getting myself in trouble.)

Today after I learned that they’re cutting back our hours at work, I felt like God told me, “Aren’t you glad you’re going back to school?” Heh. Most definitely. I’m thankful for those jobs I’ve had in the past where management had to make some cutbacks, because I learned how to walk in peace in the midst of it (and it was an awkward learning process).

Speaking of school, I can barely begin to tell you how excited I am about finally getting to prepare to become a worship pastor. (If you’ve read my blog for the past few years, you’ve probably read all about my dream.) I’m not exactly sure what God has up His sleeve, but I know it’s pretty awesome. And He has an extremely awesome sleeve.

There are a ton of unknown variables up ahead, but I don’t need to know everything. I just need to keep trusting the One who DOES know everything. And I know that there’s joy in the preparation.

Restored

Last weekend, I was looking for something fun to do by myself, so I dug an old jigsaw puzzle out of my closet. I picked that particular puzzle because it was small and seemed easy. Nope. It actually turned out to be pretty complicated due to the colors and patterns being similar and -- not to mention -- due to one of the pieces being broken. I was running out of time that particular day, so I put it away so I could finish it later.

This morning, I was spending some time with God and felt like He told me to resume working on the puzzle -- that He and I could work on it together. OH, MY GOSH, IT WENT SO MUCH FASTER WITH HIM HELPING ME. I didn’t have to manipulate any of the pieces to fit; the ones that fit did so quickly, snugly, and obviously. I think we were done in about 15 or 20 minutes.

It’s cool how God will make life fit together the right way if we let Him.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I’ve been struggling financially and that I’ve been looking for work again and thinking through what to do next. I think I’ve found a few answers. (Although there are plenty of answers that I don’t really need to know yet.) I applied to go back to school part-time, I got accepted, and lately I’ve been in the process of looking for work that would let me go to school and let me follow through on my current responsibilities.

I would like to offer a disclaimer on what I’m about to say. Please understand that I’m not trying to dishonor, disrespect, or slander anybody. I’m just trying to tell my story.

In 1994, I graduated from high school and went away to college. I didn’t have a perfect experience, but overall I had the time of my life there. What enabled me to attend college was the fact that I had a four-year tuition scholarship, and what helped was 15 hours of AP credit that I had earned in high school. I was a semester ahead of most of my peers, and I was even taking honors classes and preparing to write a thesis.

Then one day, Dad asked me if there was any way possible that I could graduate a semester early because the longer I was in school, the more money it would cost him and Mom. Frankly, since my tuition was already paid for, and since I had financial aid and had been working during the summers and holidays, it really wasn’t costing my parents much to send me to college.

But what could I do? I agreed to graduate a semester early. I forfeited a semester’s worth of my tuition scholarship, I pulled out of the honors program, and I didn’t get to graduate with my class. But I did get to graduate with some new friends who were finishing school in 4 1/2 or 5 1/2 years. I graduated after 3 1/2 years, and I was 21 years old.

Fast forward to recently, maybe about two weeks ago: I was praying about my life (which has kind of taken over my prayer time in recent years), and I felt like God told me something important. I’ve been struggling financially because I haven’t been able to find a job in my degree field or some steady freelance work. I was wondering if maybe I’ve been doing something wrong -- if maybe I’ve been missing something. So, while I was praying, I felt like God showed me that all of this struggle hasn’t been happening because I’m a loser. It’s been happening because He’s restoring SCHOOL back to me.

I graduated a semester early -- in December 1997, when I was 21 years old. I didn’t get to go back to school in January 1998. Now I’m going to go back to school in January 2019 -- 21 years later, when I’m 42 years old. I think the reason why I haven’t been able to make it work financially is because God has restored me to that same state that I was in when I was 21. I was penniless then, and I’m penniless now. I was a starving artist then, and I’m a starving artist now. I was youthful then, and I’m youthful now.

“... who satisfies your mouth with good things, so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” (Psalm 103:5)

I really believe that God has restored my youth. I look in the mirror, and I see that little kid staring back at me. (I took this photo a few weeks ago in a parking garage right before a job interview.) I even weigh a little bit less than I did when I was 21. People ask me how old I am, and they’re shocked when I tell them that I’m 42. People have told me that I look like a college student.

But hopefully I’m wiser than I was half my lifetime ago. Hopefully I’ve worked through a good deal of bitterness that tends to grow on you like barnacles after the ocean of life slaps you around a few times. And hopefully I’ve let God restore some of my innocence.

I’ve gotten kind of tired of starting over in life (because I’ve done it multiple times), but I’m very glad and very thankful that I get to do so again. Because I know why now. In this old blog post, I mentioned how I’ve been keeping one of my shelves empty for school books. It looks like I’m going to get to fill that shelf now.

Do I know exactly how it’s going to happen? No, of course not. I don’t know what tomorrow’s going to look like. I don’t even know how I’m going to pay for it. But do I need to? Why can’t I just trust God -- especially if He asks me to?

Last week, I started a seasonal job part-time at a retail store. I’m on a team that unloads and unpacks the merchandise and puts it on display before the store opens. One night, as I was unpacking strands of Christmas tree garland, I was told that I needed to be careful with it. It was made of glass, and it could break. So, I unrolled each strand carefully. Once I got the hang of it, I unrolled the strands not-so-carefully; they got tangled, and while I was untangling them, I broke one.

God showed me that our issues are like a carefully packed box of glass garland. Sometimes I wonder why He won’t show me all of my issues all at once so that I can just work through them and move on with my life. I mean, if I have codependence, jealousy, lust, religiosity, depression, or laziness all wrapped inside me, why leave it there? Why not just unravel all of that crap and get it over with? Why does God insist on working through just a little bit at a time???

Well, in my zeal to untangle it all, I could end up breaking something that doesn’t need to get broken. I could get hurt, or I could end up hurting somebody. God is the One who carefully unpacks the next strand that needs to get worked on. He makes sure that each piece gets the attention that it needs, and He makes sure that I become whole... and it’s a process. Yes, of course He could just wave a magic wand and POOF! all of my issues could just suddenly go away.

But why would He? What kind of relationship would I have with Him? I think maybe I’ll get to know Him better if He and I will simply unravel the strands together and talk about them, and I’ll learn from them. And if any of the strands are broken, He can restore them. I can trust Him to do that.

At the beginning of this post, I showed you a photo of a jigsaw puzzle in progress. But I didn’t show you the finished product. And that’s OK. Do you trust me?