Inadequacy and Fear

I’m an emotional mess. You’d think I was deep into pms but I’m not so what gives? I don’t know. It started Thursday night, chatting with a friend. She said something that was meant in jest. I didn’t know what she was talking about so I asked her to explain. Because she’d just been joking around (but I didn’t know it then), she sloughed it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Well, for some reason it was to me and I started sobbing. We got it all straightened out but I’ve been a mess since.

I spent a chunk of time in my prayer room that night talking to God about it. The best I could come up with was inadequacy. It seems I have a deep-rooted sense of inadequacy. As I searched for where the roots began, I was taken back to when I was three and four years old, living at my grandparents’ with my parents. It was a very stern environment. Strange, because I remember that as the most idyllic time of my life. It’s also when I had the oddest (for a preschooler) dream.

I was in a basement room with stairs to an outside entrance. It was a room where I shouldn’t have been, filled with people who, well, in my dream I think the people were all just kind of sitting around but there was an atmosphere or suggestion or feeling that it was a den of iniquity. It was while I was in that room that Jesus returned to earth on a cloud, surrounded by all the angels. I saw him open the door at the top of the stairs, look down at me in disappointment and walk away in sadness. I’d just been refused entry to heaven.

I’ve had help dealing with that dream in terms of rejection, but I never before saw the sense of inadequacy that the dream illustrates. And why was a preschooler having such a dream? Why would a three or four-year-old be dreaming such things? What was it in my environment that produced such thoughts? As I prayed Thursday night, I knew that God is my adequacy and knowing that seemed to help but the emotional turmoil continued.

On Friday, my husband gave me some good news over the phone from work but he wrapped it in words that triggered a lot of anger in me. My anger didn’t make a lot of sense and I knew there was more to it than the phone call, but what?

Then there was the dermatologist. I had called Wednesday, finally, to make an appointment to get the moles on my back checked out. I was told she’s only at the clinic Monday mornings now. Sigh. Okay. The first appointment available was in July. I accepted it but afterwards I realized I’ll be out of town so I called back. Turns out the doctor has a new location. I was given the number and called. There was a cancellation Friday and so I got in.

Most Manitoba doctors’ offices are plain and functional, kind of like Super 8 motels. My doctor’s new office makes the Fairmont look shabby. Yowzers! I was afraid I was at the wrong place. Once assured I wasn’t, I began to wonder if Manitoba Health would be paying the bills (in Canada the government pays for health care costs such as visits to the doctor). This place is not supported by Manitoba Health payments alone, that was obvious. Then I began to wonder if they would be interested in such a plebian need as a mole on the back. In the examining room, instead of a wooden examining table, there was a leather recliner with controls to make it do all sorts of complicated things. Maybe the doctor was now doing only fancy plastic surgeries and botox injections.

Finally I saw the doctor. She didn’t seem nearly as worried about the moles on my back as I had thought she was last year. That was a good thing. She asked if she could take one mole off right then and there. With my habit of procrastinating, I figured I’d be foolish to say no. I tried to be brave during the freezing needle but despite all my rhetoric about suffering, I found myself bursting into tears. Poor doctor. She was quite concerned but I think the pain of the needle was really just a trigger for all the emotional pain I’d been feeling. The freezing did its job but I remained emotionally messed up and scared through the entire procedure. It didn’t hurt but I could feel her cutting and smell her cauterizing the spot. She stuck a band-aid on and sent me home (but first, please deliver the sample labeled “biohazard” to the receptionist and pay a $20 tray fee at the front desk).

Did the process of the (teeny-tiny, minor) surgery mess with my emotions? I don’t know. I’m not scared about the possibility of cancer, I don’t think, but I continued to be an emotional mess for most of the rest of the day. It ended only when I finally found a diversion.

I had so much fun with the diversion! I’ve learned how to subscribe to other blogs through bloglines.com. Bloglines has a cool feature where, if you call up one of the blogs to which you’re subscribed, you can get a list of related blogs (they call them feeds). I’m subscribed to my own blog and have been curious what bloglines.com thinks are related blogs. I’ve glanced before but never took the time to look closely. I did last night. I really like what I found—a bunch of blogs by godly women who are good writers. Two (out of about 8-10 which I read) even like Earl Grey tea! I was so blessed by what I read, especially the blog of one woman who calls her husband THGGM (The Husband God Gave Me). He’s recently been demoted and she was singing his praises. I liked her attitude. I liked her humour too, as she described a jaunt through three states, ostensibly to see her son who’d just returned from overseas, a trip that was littered with shopping trips to as many Cracker Barrels as she could find.

And then Crosswalk forums came alive and I bounced around from one thread to another with a group of about 4 others who were being totally goofy. It was good and so much fun.

This morning, however, I didn’t want to get up. Once again I wanted to hide. Why? I tried to figure out the reason and all I could come up with was fear. But what am I afraid of? I don’t know. Yet the fear was incredibly overwhelming and I’ve spent much of the day crying. There’s so much I need to do but I’m avoiding it. Why? Fear? Sense of inadequacy? What’s going on with me? I don’t know. How do I respond? Do I pretend I’m not afraid and just keep going on? How do I face these fears honestly without giving in to them? Where do I find answers? I wish I knew. I need to go down to my prayer room and spend time with God but I’ve avoiding even that.

Meekness and Suffering

Dear God, help me to be willing to go without my needs being met, rather than dishonouring your name with my words or deeds.

"Anyone would have gotten flustered trying to find a PIN and then losing the chance at work because someone else was getting in the way," my friend protested.

True. That is the natural and automatic response but I (and all other Christians, I believe) am being called to something supernatural. I'm being called to live not according to what's natural (the "flesh"), but to something higher. It is the natural that I'm trying to kill. I want to rise above the natural, the automatic, the thing that "anyone" would do.

What is suffering? Most people think of it in big terms. Martyrs suffer. People tortured for their faith suffer and we say to ourselves (or at least I have), "If I was in that situation, I too would be willing to suffer." But if I dishonour God by snapping at my husband because I feel crowded, if I can't handle and accept even the inconvenience or suffering of that, how in the world could I accept bigger suffering? I couldn't. I'd cave. My own comfort would come first.

I suppose, loosely defined (this is something I will probably be processing for a very long time), I suffer whenever I don't get what I want. I don't like suffering and so I do whatever I can to avoid it and when I CAN'T avoid it, I react in anger. Even the avoiding can be sinful.

For example, I don't want my church to fold. I'm hurting because of that possibility and so I want comfort. One means I use to comfort myself is with eating. Am I willing to suffer and do without what I want and choose to honour God instead? In this case, suffering might be remaining comfortless because to eat in the ways that would comfort me would break a vow I have made. Suffering would also include feeling very hungry because I'm doing without that food (even though, physiologically, my hunger might be sated from proper eating).

I suffer when my husband does something that really annoys me and, instead of telling him, even nicely, I choose to keep quiet and take the matter to God. Not that telling him is wrong at all times. Communication is important. But God has been telling me to keep quiet about some of these things so, despite my natural disposition to correct or inform him, I say nothing.

I'm reminded of one translation of 1 Corinthians 13. Love suffers long. I haven't. I am now learning how. And each day in my prayer room, I hold a crown of thorns I have and ask God to help me embrace suffering, to make me willing to share in the fellowship of HIS suffering. If I am faithful in small sufferings, I will be faithful in large ones.

Charles Stanley writes, "Amid your trouble, do you wait on the Lord, or do you quickly act to alleviate the pressure?" This is something God has been teaching me over the past few years. My counsellor used to tell me I needed to groan. Sit in the pain. Suffer, rather than trying to alleviate the discomfort.

"[Waiting] is not standing idly by; rather, it is a pro-active choice to wait in expectation...." I did a bit of a study the other day on Matthew 5:5, "Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth." I've never quite understood the term meek. Here's what I found:

"Meekness is therefore an active and deliberate acceptance of undesirable circumstances that are wisely seen by the individual as only part of a larger picture. ... The patient and hopeful endurance of undesirable circumstances identifies the person as externally vulnerable and weak but inwardly resilient and strong. Meekness does not identify the weak but more precisely the strong who have been placed in a position of weakness where they persevere without giving up." [Baker's Evangelical Dictionary]

"The meek are those who quietly submit themselves to God, to his word and to his rod, who follow his directions, and comply with his designs, and are gentle towards all men (Tit. 3:2); who can bear provocation without being inflamed by it; are either silent, or return a soft answer; and who can show their displeasure when there is occasion for it, without being transported into any indecencies; who can be cool when others are hot; and in their patience keep possession of their own souls, when they can scarcely keep possession of any thing else. They are the meek, who are rarely and hardly provoked, but quickly and easily pacified; and who would rather forgive twenty injuries than revenge one, having the rule of their own spirits." [Matthew Henry Complete Commentary on the Whole Bible]

I want to be meek.

Power in Weakness

A friend of mine has started studying "The Purpose-driven Life" by Rick Warren. According to her, Warren advises that we stop dabbling and trying to do it all so we started talking about narrowed focus and what each of ours might be. She wrote this:

"...it seems to me that you are gifted in “truth telling.” And by that, I mean you are able to take God’s word and show others what it means in their lives. You have the ability to put things so realistically without being preachy, if that makes sense. ... Your willingness to be brutally honest with yourself and in your own life is a living testimony, Maggie. When I think of how you faced your SSA [same-sex attraction] and then confessed it to [your husband], your children, your family, your friends, and your pastors, I do stand amazed."

Truth-telling. Brutal honesty with myself and my life. I've been wondering how to approach this blog. Do I want to come across as someone who has it all together? Would I weaken the things I want to say if I shared openly and honestly like I do elsewhere? My friend is saying, in essence, "No! Keep being open and honest!"

I was reminded of Paul's statement, "...'My gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me." (2 Corinthians 12:9, NLT) I opened bible.crosswalk.com (easier than opening my Bible) to see the context and began to cry. The first thing that caught my glance was that the passage about weakness follows immediately after Paul's discussion about the thorn-in-the-flesh God had given him. I have such a thorn. It is an unabated hunger and desire for a woman I love dearly but from whom I chose to walk away a year and a half ago because I'd rather have Jesus and Jesus, through His Word, makes it very clear that homosexuality is outside of His will. (You can read my story here.)

Paul writes (beginning in the middle of verse 7), "...But to keep me from getting puffed up, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from getting proud. Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, 'My gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may work through me."

I was amazed to see that, in the study tools listed for this passage, one commentary addresses homosexuality. What prompted those who organized bible.crosswalk.com to connect homosexuality with Paul's discussion on weakness and thorns? I felt loved and affirmed by God. He KNOWS!

Something else jumped out at me from this passage. Why did God need to keep Paul from getting puffed up? Verses 1-7 are about Paul's experience with visions, revelations and being caught up into the third heaven. This is something I long for and somehow it's all connected. God has given me a thorn in the flesh to keep me humble, to keep me aware of just how weak I am so that Christ's strength and power will be visible. And as I show you, my reader, my weakness and Christ's strength and power is thus revealed, GOD gets all the glory. In the end, whether God grants my request to experience visions, revelations and visits to heaven or not, it doesn't matter. Verse 10 says, "Since I know it is all for Christ's good, I am quite content with my weaknesses and with insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

More Matterings

We were at a meeting this morning, my husband and I. We didn't go together. We didn't know the other would be present. He was more surprised than I.

The meeting was a gathering of facilitators for various recovery programs in his new home church. I've been asked to be part of the leadership team for one of these programs but I hadn't told him. I rarely tell him much. He's usually not interested.

The pastor spoke about the importance of "Speaking the Language of the Heart [which] includes the ability to understand interpersonal 'road signs' and respond effectively." These include:

1. Please listen to me, I need to be understood (to listen actively, give full attention, keep your mind focused, hear their story);

2. Please accept me, I'm under construction, be cautious with me (let the speaker finish without interupting, let yourself finish listening and allow silence after the person has spoke to give time to generate your own thoughts, understand their story);

3. Please connect with me, I need relationship, merge with me (ask relevant questions, seek to clarify, give thoughtful feedback, seeking to be honest and loving, share your story);

4. Please inspire me, I need hope (speak from the soul, speak about hope, speak with passion).

Being able to read these signs in people is as important for effective care-giving in ministry as for other relationships, such as marriage. It hurt to sit beside my husband, listening to the importance of being able to read these signs in others and knowing that he doesn't do so with me. It's a matter of mattering. If you won't listen to, accept or connect with me, are you really interested in me? Do I matter to you? Do I matter to my husband?

At home, afterwards, he commented that our reptilian pets are not emotionally sympathetic. "Neither are our husbands," I replied rather caustically. He looked at me in surprise. "What's wrong? I didn't do anything wrong!" And thus opened the most amazing discussion.

He did not argue with me. He didn't get defensive. He listened as I told him what a lousy listener he is. He accepted what I had to say about how unaccepting he is. He stayed connected as I complained about his lack of connection. He inspired me with hope as he told me he's been praying for a way to connect with me and asked what, more precisely, he could do. He admitted he doesn't listen when he's not interested and admitted he rarely listens to me. Ergo, he hasn't been interested in me. I haven't mattered to him. But he wants to change that. Has someone given me a new husband? Where'd this guy come from? I don't know him!

I think I'm beginning to matter!

Though of course I've always mattered to God, which is really the only mattering that truly matters.

A smattering of mattering

My husband and I had a big conflict today. On the surface, it looked like the issue was about a couch--whether to look at it with an eye to buying or not. But deep down, it was about mattering. Do I matter to him, or do I not?

How does one know whether they matter to someone else? What is the sign of being significant? If you're itching to leave the room, do you really want to hear what I'm saying? If you see I'm in pain but make no move to comfort me, do you really care? What if you do these things repeatedly, day after day, year after year? Do they say I don't matter?

Do the small things count or just the big ones? Should I know I matter to my husband because he raised the child of my infidelity as his own and continues to stay with me despite more attractive options elsewhere?

Does it matter if I matter to him? Is this really important? Where does the mattering really matter? What if I never matter to anyone? Does that matter? Where is my significance?

I know I matter to God. He sent his angels to watch over me earlier this week. Last weekend He filled me with so much joy I thought I would burst. He has chosen to use me time and again for His purposes when He could easily toss me aside and use someone else. He has spoken to me in a myriad of ways and, when I was too dirty to be attractive to anyone, he cleaned me and made me his own.

If I matter to God, does anything else matter? Can I accept a smattering of mattering from everyone else?

A New Thing

I'm entering a new world, trying this blogging in the way I'm doing this. I'm not even sure what I'm doing but nothing ventured, nothing gained. I'm quite excited about the possibilities of this IF I can figure out how to make it work.

Maggie