You know the drill: need buckets, it's sad, we meet them with coping strategies, Jesus wants to fill our need buckets if only we'll let Him.
So here's the definition of sin: trying to meet our needs apart from God.
This is brilliant. This the broader definition of sin that I've always looked for, because of course sin can't just be actions, and it's got to be relational at heart if a relationship is what cures it. It also affirms the fact that we are intelligent image bearers of God. People don't sin out of craziness (unless you're criminally insane, of course). People sin because they think it's what they have to do.
Needs are screaming toddlers, basically. If there is a massive hole in our soul, we will do just about anything to get it met, whether that is adultery or murder or lies. We're desperate, hurting people. We will go to church five times a week to earn God's approval or make people think we're holy. Or maybe we go because we need the companionship, we need to look good and have people say, "Hey, you look good, and I'm so glad you're here!" and the thing is, sin is super subtle and we're none of us exempt.
I totally meet my needs in sinful ways--in sinful relationships, in sinful actions, in sinful addictions. I've struggled with some sins for over a decade, which does a number on your faith when there are messages in the Church that say, "Occasional sins are alright, but habitual sins? You're probably not a Christian." And what the hell? Here I thought I was a person who loved Jesus but found it impossible to stop doing this thing that I know is wrong but which makes me feel better. But sin, when thought of as simply actions, as things that are the root of the issue rather than merely symptoms, well, then people can get legalistic on your ass and make you feel like crap.
But framed in terms of need buckets, it makes so much sense. I can't kick my sins because my bucket is still empty. And while my needs are unmet, I'm going to try to meet them in whatever way I can. Even when I know something is a sin, I'm still going to do it, because that need drives me insane. In eternity we're not going to sin, right? Why? Because our needs will be totally fulfilled. That is crazy beautiful, I can't even actually imagine.
Seeing it this way allows me to see myself with so much grace. I'm not openly rebelling, and I'm not hopelessly depraved. I'm hurting. Everyone who is sinning is hurting.
And if I can learn to be gracious to myself, well then look at God.
I often wonder how God can be so patient. How is He so good, so forgiving? Well. He's omniscient. He knows us inside and out. He knows all of our needs, and He knows which ones were met and which ones are still buckets waiting to be filled. He knows all of our tricks, and He knows how unfulfilling they are. It makes so much sense that God would be patient when He sees how deeply our brokenness runs. He knows it's going to take far more than a few well-timed sermons, a few Bible verses, a few worship songs, a few strolls through nature. He knows how empty we are, and He cares. He empathizes with us, and I think that's why He is not nearly so hard on us as we are on ourselves. I think that's why sanctification is a lifetime process, one that just can't be accomplished in this life where we will continue to have our needs go unmet.
God knows that the only way we'll stop sinning is for the coming of the new heaven and the new earth, when we will see God face to face, when we will know Him and truly understand for the first time that He meets our needs fully and completely, filling those buckets to overflowing. And when our needs are met, we won't have to go looking for help anywhere else.
That's going to be a good day.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Need Buckets Pt. 2
Alright, so we've got needs that were not met as children, and we spend the rest of our lives flailing around trying to meet them through negative coping strategies. It's all rather hopeless until you look at John 4.
Jesus meets with the Samaritan woman at the well, and they talk about water. The woman draws water from the well, and it's effective, but it has to be done every single day, and it's work. Jesus says He's got living water, water that never runs out, that springs out by itself without needing to be drawn. The Samaritan woman is smart; she wants that living water. But Jesus starts talking about her husband. Whoops, husbands and extra lover. Turns out it's not water Jesus was talking about but relationships. Just like the woman worked to get water, she worked to get her needs met by men. Jesus promises living water, promises to meet her needs so fully that she doesn't have to resort to manipulating people into loving and caring and respecting her.
That's lovely, isn't it? That's the hope offered by Christianity.
Except sometimes, God doesn't meet our needs. During break, I told this to the girl sitting next to me, and she said, "Oh, of course He does. He can do anything and..." I'll be honest, I stopped listening almost immediately. She'd just gotten engaged. Clearly she didn't have a problem trusting God.
Dr. Dickens is a nosy guy, so he said, "It sounds like you two are processing over there. Let us in!" So I told him that it seems like God doesn't meet all our needs, and he frowned and nodded.
"God meets our ways in three ways, I think. One, He meets our needs supernaturally, like those peaceful feelings to you can't explain etc. Two, He meets our needs through people, and often they don't even know they're giving you exactly what you need. And three, sometimes He doesn't answer our needs."
I almost teared up. Turns out people telling the truth is crazy validating.
He continued, "Sometimes God doesn't meet our needs. He sees us, and He sees our needs, and He knows they are legitimate. But sometimes He doesn't meet them because He wants us to know we can survive without it. Sometimes we've made the need into something bigger than it really is and He teaches us perspective. Sometimes we never know why He doesn't meet them."
And yes. Yes yes yes.
As mentioned in the previous post, one of my biggest needs is for a vulnerable, committed intimate relationship. Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted a best friend. I want so desperately to have someone to share life with, to make memories and grow together and say, "Hey, remember that time ten years ago? Me too." I've always wanted that, and I've never gotten it. I've had some lovely groups of friends. I've had a couple people who were best friends for a while, but then college ends, or they move, or I move. I've learned that this need really fucking hurts, so I usually employ my coping strategy and get the hell out of dodge before I feel so attached to someone that it's going to hurt when they leave.
And of course, I really want to get married. That's the ultimate committed, vulnerable relationship, right? I want it bad. But none of the guys I've been interested in have been interested back, and that gets really old after a decade, so I started saying, "Marriage? Screw marriage! Not only is singleness a gift from God, I super enjoy the gift! In your face, marriage!" While I will vehemently defend singleness as a gift from God, I have to admit that I hate every minute of it.
So I've got this need for long-term intimate relationships, and I've pretended I don't have it, and I've tried to look perfect so that people would be drawn to me and at least I'd get some kind of affirmation. But that's tiring. I'm tired of looking perfect. I'm tired of getting people to like the Perfect Version of myself. It's absolutely exhausting, and Jesus's living water sounds really fantastic right now.
Only the answer seems to be no.
Now, you can say I have a long-term intimate relationship with God, and you're right. I should definitely explore that and give it more credit. But I do think that God created us with relational needs that are meant to be met by humans. And for that, my needs are being partially met or not at all. And that sucks. And Dr. Dickens affirmed it, and while that doesn't meet my needs, it makes me feel a little less crazy.
Jesus meets with the Samaritan woman at the well, and they talk about water. The woman draws water from the well, and it's effective, but it has to be done every single day, and it's work. Jesus says He's got living water, water that never runs out, that springs out by itself without needing to be drawn. The Samaritan woman is smart; she wants that living water. But Jesus starts talking about her husband. Whoops, husbands and extra lover. Turns out it's not water Jesus was talking about but relationships. Just like the woman worked to get water, she worked to get her needs met by men. Jesus promises living water, promises to meet her needs so fully that she doesn't have to resort to manipulating people into loving and caring and respecting her.
That's lovely, isn't it? That's the hope offered by Christianity.
Except sometimes, God doesn't meet our needs. During break, I told this to the girl sitting next to me, and she said, "Oh, of course He does. He can do anything and..." I'll be honest, I stopped listening almost immediately. She'd just gotten engaged. Clearly she didn't have a problem trusting God.
Dr. Dickens is a nosy guy, so he said, "It sounds like you two are processing over there. Let us in!" So I told him that it seems like God doesn't meet all our needs, and he frowned and nodded.
"God meets our ways in three ways, I think. One, He meets our needs supernaturally, like those peaceful feelings to you can't explain etc. Two, He meets our needs through people, and often they don't even know they're giving you exactly what you need. And three, sometimes He doesn't answer our needs."
I almost teared up. Turns out people telling the truth is crazy validating.
He continued, "Sometimes God doesn't meet our needs. He sees us, and He sees our needs, and He knows they are legitimate. But sometimes He doesn't meet them because He wants us to know we can survive without it. Sometimes we've made the need into something bigger than it really is and He teaches us perspective. Sometimes we never know why He doesn't meet them."
And yes. Yes yes yes.
As mentioned in the previous post, one of my biggest needs is for a vulnerable, committed intimate relationship. Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted a best friend. I want so desperately to have someone to share life with, to make memories and grow together and say, "Hey, remember that time ten years ago? Me too." I've always wanted that, and I've never gotten it. I've had some lovely groups of friends. I've had a couple people who were best friends for a while, but then college ends, or they move, or I move. I've learned that this need really fucking hurts, so I usually employ my coping strategy and get the hell out of dodge before I feel so attached to someone that it's going to hurt when they leave.
And of course, I really want to get married. That's the ultimate committed, vulnerable relationship, right? I want it bad. But none of the guys I've been interested in have been interested back, and that gets really old after a decade, so I started saying, "Marriage? Screw marriage! Not only is singleness a gift from God, I super enjoy the gift! In your face, marriage!" While I will vehemently defend singleness as a gift from God, I have to admit that I hate every minute of it.
So I've got this need for long-term intimate relationships, and I've pretended I don't have it, and I've tried to look perfect so that people would be drawn to me and at least I'd get some kind of affirmation. But that's tiring. I'm tired of looking perfect. I'm tired of getting people to like the Perfect Version of myself. It's absolutely exhausting, and Jesus's living water sounds really fantastic right now.
Only the answer seems to be no.
Now, you can say I have a long-term intimate relationship with God, and you're right. I should definitely explore that and give it more credit. But I do think that God created us with relational needs that are meant to be met by humans. And for that, my needs are being partially met or not at all. And that sucks. And Dr. Dickens affirmed it, and while that doesn't meet my needs, it makes me feel a little less crazy.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Need Buckets Pt. 1
We talked about negative coping strategies in practicum. We all have needs, Dr. Dickens said. Say that you have twenty need buckets. It's not a bad thing to have needs. Humans are inherently needy, created that way by God to fuel community and remind us that we are, in fact, created beings. To pretend we aren't needy is to pretend we are God. So we've got twenty need buckets (let's just say), and our parents are able to fill up maybe fifteen of them if we're lucky. That's 75%, that's a passing parent grade.
But there are still five need buckets that are empty. Those needs could be the need for intimacy, the need for purpose, the need for security, the need for respect. And when our needs are not being met, there are three general coping strategies people employ to get those needs met. Moving toward people are people pleasers. They help people in hopes that they will be helped in return. These people look really good, but their motivation for kindnesses is selfish and manipulative. Moving against people are aggressive. They'll force you to meet their needs by steamrollering over you and demanding whatever they need before leaving you. Again, selfish and manipulative. Moving away people either pretend they don't actually have needs or else set themselves apart, pretending they've got everything figured out so that people will be drawn to them and meet their needs without them ever having to ask for it.
I am so a moving away person. I have, quite literally, moved away. One of my empty need buckets is the need for intimacy. I crave vulnerable, committed relationships. But I pretend this doesn't bother me, or I try to be perfect so people will be drawn to me because it's only if I'm perfect that people will want to be in close relationships with me (nevermind that by pretending to be perfect I've forfeited the authenticity needed for truly intimate relationships).
So we all have needs, and we all try to meet them in sideways moves. Oftentimes these coping strategies are effective; that's why we use them. But inevitably they will fail, and even if they never do, they get so tiring. We're smart; we know the difference between manipulating someone into meeting our needs and having someone meet them all on their own motivation.
As therapists, we're meant to 1) decipher what a person's needs are and 2) what their coping strategy is. They will use this coping strategy against us, so that part won't be hard. The tricky thing is that when they are manipulating, we're supposed to ignore their need. They'll be shuddering apart, flailing for affirmation, and we just sit with them and let them flail. It's only when they tire and let their guard down that we jump in and load them up with whatever their need is. In this way, they'll learn that they don't have to manipulate people into meeting their needs. It's possible for them to give up and stop trying and still be loved.
This is grace.
This is my epiphany: I move away from people, and I move away from God. These last few months (this last decade, more like), I've been ignoring God, trying to manipulate Him into helping me, caring for me, providing for me. Because God chases us, right? He pursues us? So I've been really pissed off because HE HASN'T. He's letting me hang.
But if God is a counselor, and I think that He is, then He's waiting. He's not going to validate my coping strategy by rushing in to meet my needs just because I'm pouting and avoiding Him. And this explains the wonderful moment I had a couple weeks ago. I dropped my act, I opened my Bible, and Hebrews 12 jumped into my heart and comforted me. God met me the second I stopped moving away and let Him in.
Of course, I've since returned to moving away, because that shit is deeply ingrained, and I didn't miraculously learn to trust God. So. I'm still working through this, but like, my brain has opened and I feel like I see what's happening, at least a little bit.
But there are still five need buckets that are empty. Those needs could be the need for intimacy, the need for purpose, the need for security, the need for respect. And when our needs are not being met, there are three general coping strategies people employ to get those needs met. Moving toward people are people pleasers. They help people in hopes that they will be helped in return. These people look really good, but their motivation for kindnesses is selfish and manipulative. Moving against people are aggressive. They'll force you to meet their needs by steamrollering over you and demanding whatever they need before leaving you. Again, selfish and manipulative. Moving away people either pretend they don't actually have needs or else set themselves apart, pretending they've got everything figured out so that people will be drawn to them and meet their needs without them ever having to ask for it.
I am so a moving away person. I have, quite literally, moved away. One of my empty need buckets is the need for intimacy. I crave vulnerable, committed relationships. But I pretend this doesn't bother me, or I try to be perfect so people will be drawn to me because it's only if I'm perfect that people will want to be in close relationships with me (nevermind that by pretending to be perfect I've forfeited the authenticity needed for truly intimate relationships).
So we all have needs, and we all try to meet them in sideways moves. Oftentimes these coping strategies are effective; that's why we use them. But inevitably they will fail, and even if they never do, they get so tiring. We're smart; we know the difference between manipulating someone into meeting our needs and having someone meet them all on their own motivation.
As therapists, we're meant to 1) decipher what a person's needs are and 2) what their coping strategy is. They will use this coping strategy against us, so that part won't be hard. The tricky thing is that when they are manipulating, we're supposed to ignore their need. They'll be shuddering apart, flailing for affirmation, and we just sit with them and let them flail. It's only when they tire and let their guard down that we jump in and load them up with whatever their need is. In this way, they'll learn that they don't have to manipulate people into meeting their needs. It's possible for them to give up and stop trying and still be loved.
This is grace.
This is my epiphany: I move away from people, and I move away from God. These last few months (this last decade, more like), I've been ignoring God, trying to manipulate Him into helping me, caring for me, providing for me. Because God chases us, right? He pursues us? So I've been really pissed off because HE HASN'T. He's letting me hang.
But if God is a counselor, and I think that He is, then He's waiting. He's not going to validate my coping strategy by rushing in to meet my needs just because I'm pouting and avoiding Him. And this explains the wonderful moment I had a couple weeks ago. I dropped my act, I opened my Bible, and Hebrews 12 jumped into my heart and comforted me. God met me the second I stopped moving away and let Him in.
Of course, I've since returned to moving away, because that shit is deeply ingrained, and I didn't miraculously learn to trust God. So. I'm still working through this, but like, my brain has opened and I feel like I see what's happening, at least a little bit.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
I'll Take My Fall Break Now, Thanks
Fall semesters at DTS are the worst; we begin mid-August and don't get a break until mid-November. That is an excruciatingly long time to do readings and papers and presentations. Having learned from last year, I planned my own mini-Fall Break, and here at the end of it, I declare it a resounding success.
It helps that my Thursday classes went surprisingly well. I walked into practicum at 7:45 a.m. and told Dr. Dickens, "I've been nervous all week anticipating your role playing! Angry clients are what I fear most!" He laughed and said, "I'm really tired today. I probably won't manage to be very angry." So I volunteered to counsel him first, and it was crazy frustrating, but he complimented me when it was over. More importantly, there are nine more classmates to go through before I take another turn, so I won't have to be nervous for at least two more weeks.
On Friday in the airport, I thought about my counseling sessions. Cathalina says I'm very hard on myself, and I realized that I've taken even positive things about myself and twisted them so that they're negative. Lately I've thought of traveling as escaping, and what an immature move that is. I still think traveling is my escaping, but now I'm not so sure escaping is bad.
Two of the things I love about traveling are 1) being alone in a crowd, and 2) being surrounded by people speaking a language other than English. As an extremely self-conscious individual, it is freeing to be alone, to be allowed to ignore people and not worry if I ought to say something or contribute to the conversation, to wander off in my own head without offending someone with my silence. It's freeing, I realized. It's peaceful. I felt utterly at peace sitting in seat 27F, gazing out of the airplane and watching earth fall away beneath me.
We flew through forests of clouds, this ridiculously beautiful display of Neverland-quality whimsy. I've always been in love with the sky, and this was stunning. In the peace and beauty, I felt like I clicked back into step with God. I was effusive in thanksgiving, and I smiled, "I could die right now, God, this is all I need." Then we hit three minutes of turbulence, and the smile turned into a grimace of, "Not that you have to kill us, okay?" We didn't crash.
I went to Maryland to visit Elizabeth. She was the roommate of my best friend from college. I saw her pretty frequently since I was at their dorm a lot, but we've never hung out alone. I was a bit nervous, actually, but that turned out to be unfounded. During our drive from the airport through DC and on to her apartment, we talked about depression and introversion and marble buildings and pets and fast food and jobs. At her apartment I gravitated toward her bookshelf, and we spent the night exchanging book recommendations and watching Modern Family.
On Saturday we visited F. Scott Fitzgerald's grave. We honored America's greatest writer then rode into DC to honor England's greatest writer at the Shakespeare Museum. We lucked into a tour of the reading room, where we stood amongst beautifully old books and dark wood with people unashamedly in love with academia. We wandered toward Capitol Hill, taking in the unique and adorable houses and the trees changing colors in their yards. We grabbed sandwiches and meandered through a street market. I bought mahjongg tile earrings in honor of the computer game I so often played with my grandpa as a kid.
We found a house converted into used book store, every space covered in towers of books, piled to the ceiling, sitting in stacks on the floor. Books went horizontal and vertical, stacked two-deep in endless bookshelves. Elizabeth and I separated and gawked and perused, reuniting to exchange book finds and ask, "Did you see that note taped to the middle shelf in the back of the second floor next to the cookbook section?"
After fortifying ourselves with nutella lattes, we rode back to Elizabeth's car. In planning our evening, we decided for a laid back evening of entertainment.
Elizabeth: I thought we were going to watch Doctor Who.
Me: We were?
Elizabeth: Yeah, that's what you said when we were planning this trip.
Me: I did? You're okay with that?
Elizabeth: Yes!
Me: This. Is the best. Trip. Ever. Where should we start!?
Before space-traveling Time Lords, we bought food for dinner. I told Elizabeth about my repeated visits to Uwajimaya in Seattle. "We have a lot of Asian supermarkets here. Would you like to go to one?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. "I'll buy us mochi ice cream for dessert." "I've always wanted to try that!" she said. "We are the same person," I marveled.
Stuffed with chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and mochi, we watched four episodes of Doctor Who, one from each of the four seasons. We definitely watched the episode with Martha and Shakespeare, happily quoting the woman who gave us the tour, "I like to think Shakespeare and his earring were rather dashing!"
Sunday morning led to office visits and lazy Starbucks breakfast, over which we discussed Harry Potter, the salvation of animals, and Joshua Harris's church. We took the scenic route to the airport, and I flew away from vacation back to reality. I had escaped, and in escaping I had learned to breathe. I had an absolutely lovely time with a new old friend, and I was given the emotional capacity to return to DTS and kick the last half of the semester in the butt.
It helps that my Thursday classes went surprisingly well. I walked into practicum at 7:45 a.m. and told Dr. Dickens, "I've been nervous all week anticipating your role playing! Angry clients are what I fear most!" He laughed and said, "I'm really tired today. I probably won't manage to be very angry." So I volunteered to counsel him first, and it was crazy frustrating, but he complimented me when it was over. More importantly, there are nine more classmates to go through before I take another turn, so I won't have to be nervous for at least two more weeks.
On Friday in the airport, I thought about my counseling sessions. Cathalina says I'm very hard on myself, and I realized that I've taken even positive things about myself and twisted them so that they're negative. Lately I've thought of traveling as escaping, and what an immature move that is. I still think traveling is my escaping, but now I'm not so sure escaping is bad.
Two of the things I love about traveling are 1) being alone in a crowd, and 2) being surrounded by people speaking a language other than English. As an extremely self-conscious individual, it is freeing to be alone, to be allowed to ignore people and not worry if I ought to say something or contribute to the conversation, to wander off in my own head without offending someone with my silence. It's freeing, I realized. It's peaceful. I felt utterly at peace sitting in seat 27F, gazing out of the airplane and watching earth fall away beneath me.
We flew through forests of clouds, this ridiculously beautiful display of Neverland-quality whimsy. I've always been in love with the sky, and this was stunning. In the peace and beauty, I felt like I clicked back into step with God. I was effusive in thanksgiving, and I smiled, "I could die right now, God, this is all I need." Then we hit three minutes of turbulence, and the smile turned into a grimace of, "Not that you have to kill us, okay?" We didn't crash.
I went to Maryland to visit Elizabeth. She was the roommate of my best friend from college. I saw her pretty frequently since I was at their dorm a lot, but we've never hung out alone. I was a bit nervous, actually, but that turned out to be unfounded. During our drive from the airport through DC and on to her apartment, we talked about depression and introversion and marble buildings and pets and fast food and jobs. At her apartment I gravitated toward her bookshelf, and we spent the night exchanging book recommendations and watching Modern Family.
On Saturday we visited F. Scott Fitzgerald's grave. We honored America's greatest writer then rode into DC to honor England's greatest writer at the Shakespeare Museum. We lucked into a tour of the reading room, where we stood amongst beautifully old books and dark wood with people unashamedly in love with academia. We wandered toward Capitol Hill, taking in the unique and adorable houses and the trees changing colors in their yards. We grabbed sandwiches and meandered through a street market. I bought mahjongg tile earrings in honor of the computer game I so often played with my grandpa as a kid.
We found a house converted into used book store, every space covered in towers of books, piled to the ceiling, sitting in stacks on the floor. Books went horizontal and vertical, stacked two-deep in endless bookshelves. Elizabeth and I separated and gawked and perused, reuniting to exchange book finds and ask, "Did you see that note taped to the middle shelf in the back of the second floor next to the cookbook section?"
After fortifying ourselves with nutella lattes, we rode back to Elizabeth's car. In planning our evening, we decided for a laid back evening of entertainment.
Elizabeth: I thought we were going to watch Doctor Who.
Me: We were?
Elizabeth: Yeah, that's what you said when we were planning this trip.
Me: I did? You're okay with that?
Elizabeth: Yes!
Me: This. Is the best. Trip. Ever. Where should we start!?
Before space-traveling Time Lords, we bought food for dinner. I told Elizabeth about my repeated visits to Uwajimaya in Seattle. "We have a lot of Asian supermarkets here. Would you like to go to one?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. "I'll buy us mochi ice cream for dessert." "I've always wanted to try that!" she said. "We are the same person," I marveled.
Stuffed with chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and mochi, we watched four episodes of Doctor Who, one from each of the four seasons. We definitely watched the episode with Martha and Shakespeare, happily quoting the woman who gave us the tour, "I like to think Shakespeare and his earring were rather dashing!"
Sunday morning led to office visits and lazy Starbucks breakfast, over which we discussed Harry Potter, the salvation of animals, and Joshua Harris's church. We took the scenic route to the airport, and I flew away from vacation back to reality. I had escaped, and in escaping I had learned to breathe. I had an absolutely lovely time with a new old friend, and I was given the emotional capacity to return to DTS and kick the last half of the semester in the butt.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Finding Strength in the Bible (What? Shocking!)
During practicum last Thursday, we talked about grace and why people might not understand it or like it. I said, "Grace is hard to trust," because it is. People are fickle, and the things that they offer out of "grace" often have a price tag attached. If people do that, then well, what if God does too? Being honest about that opened this chasm in me, and I realized that this issue I thought I'd put to rest was actually eating away at my insides, and that I was harboring some serious anger towards God about it. And then immediately after this realization, something happened that made it so much worse.
Cryptic, no? What I mean is, this weekend was an emotional upheaval for me, but it was good. I don't know why this weekend was different, but I finally reached a point where I wanted to bring God into the conversation. I wanted to risk trusting Him, to see what He had to say. Which meant reading my Bible, something I haven't done outside of school assignments in like, probably five months.
I knew I wanted to read Hebrews, and I opened to chapter 12. The heading was "God Disciplines His Sons" and I emotionally recoiled, because aw hell no, I don't want to read about discipline, this is exactly what scares me, WRONG PAGE. But I felt like I ought to give it a try, and then I immediately cried because it was perfect.
It's yeah, about discipline, and says to "throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles," which is awful because I like being distracted and sitting in my own desires, but then it said, "fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith...consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
In counseling we're learning how the majority of our job is to reflect back emotions, to let our clients feel heard and understood. "weary and lose heart." WELL. That certainly reflects my emotions. And then it does a discussion on discipline being out of love, which is nice, but what hit me hard again was "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."
Lovely, right? And that wasn't it. I tend to dislike the epistles because they are instructional, and that's not how my brain works. So of course my OT History class had an assignment on 1 Kings 19, discussing Elijah's struggle with depression and God's reaction to it. AND WOW. It's like, so encouraging, and since it is a story, my brain latched on, merging the instructions with the narrative and everything clicked.
Because the thing is, Elijah is in full-on stupid-pants depression. He's just seen God do amazing things, but he doesn't trust that it will continue. Weary of struggling, he lays down under a tree to die. Which, come on, stupid Elijah! You're weary of seeing God do amazing things? I have no experience like this. We are soulmates. But then God sends an angel to feed Elijah and lead him through the desert. For 40 days, God cares for Elijah, no confrontations, no guilt trips.
At the end of this journey, Elijah is on Mount Horeb. Finally God speaks, but like a good counselor, He doesn't tell Elijah his problem; instead He asks for Elijah's experience. And Elijah is still stupid, focusing on all the bad stuff and ignoring everything good. So God says, "I'm going to meet with you." He comes in a whisper, because God is gentle. And after a ministry of presence with Elijah instead of a ministry of proclamation, God once again asks Elijah for his story.
This is the part that gets to me. After all this wonderful care, after SEEING GOD, Elijah tells the same sad-sack story. Nothing changed for him! HALLELUJAH the Bible is full of real people. And STILL, God doesn't get upset. Instead, He gives Elijah a new purpose, and He hears Elijah's complaint about being alone. He gives Elijah an attendant in Elisha, and just as icing on the cake, because there's no reason to do this, God tells Elijah that there are 7,000 other people who worship God. Elijah's not alone. So off Elijah goes, back into life, bolstered by God's spiritual care and His very real concession to Elijah's weakness. Most of the time prophets replace each other, but here Elijah and Elisha work together for awhile, because Elijah needed it. That is...so sweet.
So together, Hebrews 12 and 1 Kings 19 reminded me that God is gentle and loving. He does have a plan for us, and He wants us to be holy and to serve Him, but when we fail, He doesn't freak out. He gives us time, He meets us where we are, and He strengthens our feeble arms and weak knees so that we can once more follow Him.
Cryptic, no? What I mean is, this weekend was an emotional upheaval for me, but it was good. I don't know why this weekend was different, but I finally reached a point where I wanted to bring God into the conversation. I wanted to risk trusting Him, to see what He had to say. Which meant reading my Bible, something I haven't done outside of school assignments in like, probably five months.
I knew I wanted to read Hebrews, and I opened to chapter 12. The heading was "God Disciplines His Sons" and I emotionally recoiled, because aw hell no, I don't want to read about discipline, this is exactly what scares me, WRONG PAGE. But I felt like I ought to give it a try, and then I immediately cried because it was perfect.
It's yeah, about discipline, and says to "throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles," which is awful because I like being distracted and sitting in my own desires, but then it said, "fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith...consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."
In counseling we're learning how the majority of our job is to reflect back emotions, to let our clients feel heard and understood. "weary and lose heart." WELL. That certainly reflects my emotions. And then it does a discussion on discipline being out of love, which is nice, but what hit me hard again was "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed."
Lovely, right? And that wasn't it. I tend to dislike the epistles because they are instructional, and that's not how my brain works. So of course my OT History class had an assignment on 1 Kings 19, discussing Elijah's struggle with depression and God's reaction to it. AND WOW. It's like, so encouraging, and since it is a story, my brain latched on, merging the instructions with the narrative and everything clicked.
Because the thing is, Elijah is in full-on stupid-pants depression. He's just seen God do amazing things, but he doesn't trust that it will continue. Weary of struggling, he lays down under a tree to die. Which, come on, stupid Elijah! You're weary of seeing God do amazing things? I have no experience like this. We are soulmates. But then God sends an angel to feed Elijah and lead him through the desert. For 40 days, God cares for Elijah, no confrontations, no guilt trips.
At the end of this journey, Elijah is on Mount Horeb. Finally God speaks, but like a good counselor, He doesn't tell Elijah his problem; instead He asks for Elijah's experience. And Elijah is still stupid, focusing on all the bad stuff and ignoring everything good. So God says, "I'm going to meet with you." He comes in a whisper, because God is gentle. And after a ministry of presence with Elijah instead of a ministry of proclamation, God once again asks Elijah for his story.
This is the part that gets to me. After all this wonderful care, after SEEING GOD, Elijah tells the same sad-sack story. Nothing changed for him! HALLELUJAH the Bible is full of real people. And STILL, God doesn't get upset. Instead, He gives Elijah a new purpose, and He hears Elijah's complaint about being alone. He gives Elijah an attendant in Elisha, and just as icing on the cake, because there's no reason to do this, God tells Elijah that there are 7,000 other people who worship God. Elijah's not alone. So off Elijah goes, back into life, bolstered by God's spiritual care and His very real concession to Elijah's weakness. Most of the time prophets replace each other, but here Elijah and Elisha work together for awhile, because Elijah needed it. That is...so sweet.
So together, Hebrews 12 and 1 Kings 19 reminded me that God is gentle and loving. He does have a plan for us, and He wants us to be holy and to serve Him, but when we fail, He doesn't freak out. He gives us time, He meets us where we are, and He strengthens our feeble arms and weak knees so that we can once more follow Him.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Hoping Through Hopelessness
I wrote this two weeks ago. Actually, I wrote about four posts discussing the pain I was in, but I immediately deleted every single one. Too scary to be so vulnerable. But this one I saved, and today I read through it and decided I want to post it, mostly because yesterday I got kind of comforted, and I want to write about that, only it won't make sense if I haven't also shared where I was before.
Under the cut for cussing. The deeper I go within myself, the more comfort I find in expressing my pain and confusion in words that might offend you. Be forewarned and just stay away if you want to avoid it--that's fine.
Under the cut for cussing. The deeper I go within myself, the more comfort I find in expressing my pain and confusion in words that might offend you. Be forewarned and just stay away if you want to avoid it--that's fine.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Hello, Mojo, I Missed You
Going back to school is a guaranteed rush of TOO MANY THOUGHTS. There are classes to prepare for, relationships to renew, and the thing about studying theology and counseling is that those topics sink into real life situations and stick with you. It's a bit of an overload, honestly, which is why I haven't been blogging. I can't blog until I've got a handle on whatever I want to talk about, even if the words themselves flow out without censorship.
The thing about this semester, I think, is that I'm finally taking charge. In my introversion studies, I learned that introverts can be just as a) outgoing and b) assertive as anyone, only they need to feel a) safe and b) comfortable in order to do so. Can I get an amen? Apparently after a year in a new city studying a new subject with new friends, I feel safe and comfortable!
On the social side, I'm a bit flabbergasted, because when did I accumulate so many friends? It's lovely, but a little unwieldy, because whereas before I had a friend in this class and a friend in that class, now we are all together and it's hard to juggle them all. But lovely, too, because obviously. Twice a week I'm at school throughout lunch, and my normal habit is to eat on the stone patio behind the library where nobody goes, then hang out in the library proper and get some schoolwork done before my next class. But I keep being thwarted by people who assume I want to be social! This pisses me off momentarily, because I need to regroup and recharge, but it's nice to catch up with people.
On the academic side, I am killing it. Over the summer I fully owned the fact that I do in fact want to study counseling, and landed solidly on the fact that this is a career I want to devote the next however-many years of my life to mastering. What a difference (plus, see above, comfort, safety).
My angelology class has a group presentation (isn't seminary where we avoid contact with other students, gross, eurgh, yuck) and I was feeling assertive the day we gathered, so I volunteered to be the chairperson. It is so fun! Although last night I realized the danger of leading a bunch of people studying to be leaders, because a guy emailed me a list of extremely detailed notes which "might be useful" to me in leading our meeting today. Back up off me, boy! Really, he was a man in his 40s, and when we met and I incorporated some of his ideas, but not all of them, everyone meshed really well and anyway, I'm just saying I'm really enjoying being the chairperson.
Dr. Barnes emailed the MABC students saying he is researching "Individual Sexuality and the Church" for his sabbatical, and was anyone interested in helping? I'm not sure how emphatically I can say, "SIR THAT IS MY PASSION" but I emailed back my interest, however, what was the time commitment, etc. What I got back was an invitation to his house on Sunday where the team would get together to discuss details and also cookout and don't forget to bring your swimsuit! What? No! Swimming at my professor's house? That is utterly terrifying, but I said yes, because while ambition is a foreign concept to me, I realize networking is like, a pretty good idea.
And finally, practicum I! Dr. Dickens is the best, because as an introvert, he knows springing surprises is the worst for our little terrified brains, so he told us we wouldn't be getting into the Ring of Fire to practice counseling until the third week of classes. Which was this week! "It's kiddie pool stuff," he said. "I'll be the client, and I promise, even if you trip and fall, the water is so shallow you can't drown." "What if we fall on our faces?" someone asked. "I'll turn you over," he promised.
I was antsy to get this over with, because during the first class, Dr. Dickens said, "It will be hard to be the client, but we're all screwed up and that's not going to surprise anyone. It will be infinitely harder to be the counselor. You've invested a lot of money in this program, and this is something you're pretty passionate about, pretty sure you want to do for the rest of your life. What if you stink at it?" Yes yes, so the best way out is through, and I was going to volunteer to go first, but the other antsy kid beat me to it. Thank goodness, because he sat down and Dr. Dickens said, "What do you want to know about me?" and the poor guy just sat there wide-eyed for fifteen seconds of silence. All this studying how to be empathetic and model emotions, and NO ONE EVER TOLD US HOW TO START A CONVERSATION. Terrifying.
Ten minutes later, I jumped at the chance to tag team, and yes, utter terror. "What strengths to you do--do you bring to the, ahem, counseling staff?" I continued, horrified at my inability to speak English. But then he was off, and the conversation turned interesting, and the more I focused on him the less I thought about the twelve students staring at us. I think I looked empathetic, and I enjoyed learning about him, and I realized that counseling is HARD, because people don't say what you expect them to say, so you've got to be mentally agile and constantly map out where you want the conversation to go, but no, okay, maybe we'll go there instead. After my time was up, he gave me a high five, which was either pity or encouragement, and I'll take them both.
LOOK AT ME. Bossin' it up, being all sure I'll do that, and oh yeah, one of my friends asked me to be her sponsor while she goes through Steps, and WHAT. I'm like, all doing stuff I've been talking about, but only talking, and now I'm doing. It's crazy. Three weeks. Suddenly I'm a leader and proactive and passionate, and it feels like I've got my mojo back.
The thing about this semester, I think, is that I'm finally taking charge. In my introversion studies, I learned that introverts can be just as a) outgoing and b) assertive as anyone, only they need to feel a) safe and b) comfortable in order to do so. Can I get an amen? Apparently after a year in a new city studying a new subject with new friends, I feel safe and comfortable!
On the social side, I'm a bit flabbergasted, because when did I accumulate so many friends? It's lovely, but a little unwieldy, because whereas before I had a friend in this class and a friend in that class, now we are all together and it's hard to juggle them all. But lovely, too, because obviously. Twice a week I'm at school throughout lunch, and my normal habit is to eat on the stone patio behind the library where nobody goes, then hang out in the library proper and get some schoolwork done before my next class. But I keep being thwarted by people who assume I want to be social! This pisses me off momentarily, because I need to regroup and recharge, but it's nice to catch up with people.
On the academic side, I am killing it. Over the summer I fully owned the fact that I do in fact want to study counseling, and landed solidly on the fact that this is a career I want to devote the next however-many years of my life to mastering. What a difference (plus, see above, comfort, safety).
My angelology class has a group presentation (isn't seminary where we avoid contact with other students, gross, eurgh, yuck) and I was feeling assertive the day we gathered, so I volunteered to be the chairperson. It is so fun! Although last night I realized the danger of leading a bunch of people studying to be leaders, because a guy emailed me a list of extremely detailed notes which "might be useful" to me in leading our meeting today. Back up off me, boy! Really, he was a man in his 40s, and when we met and I incorporated some of his ideas, but not all of them, everyone meshed really well and anyway, I'm just saying I'm really enjoying being the chairperson.
Dr. Barnes emailed the MABC students saying he is researching "Individual Sexuality and the Church" for his sabbatical, and was anyone interested in helping? I'm not sure how emphatically I can say, "SIR THAT IS MY PASSION" but I emailed back my interest, however, what was the time commitment, etc. What I got back was an invitation to his house on Sunday where the team would get together to discuss details and also cookout and don't forget to bring your swimsuit! What? No! Swimming at my professor's house? That is utterly terrifying, but I said yes, because while ambition is a foreign concept to me, I realize networking is like, a pretty good idea.
And finally, practicum I! Dr. Dickens is the best, because as an introvert, he knows springing surprises is the worst for our little terrified brains, so he told us we wouldn't be getting into the Ring of Fire to practice counseling until the third week of classes. Which was this week! "It's kiddie pool stuff," he said. "I'll be the client, and I promise, even if you trip and fall, the water is so shallow you can't drown." "What if we fall on our faces?" someone asked. "I'll turn you over," he promised.
I was antsy to get this over with, because during the first class, Dr. Dickens said, "It will be hard to be the client, but we're all screwed up and that's not going to surprise anyone. It will be infinitely harder to be the counselor. You've invested a lot of money in this program, and this is something you're pretty passionate about, pretty sure you want to do for the rest of your life. What if you stink at it?" Yes yes, so the best way out is through, and I was going to volunteer to go first, but the other antsy kid beat me to it. Thank goodness, because he sat down and Dr. Dickens said, "What do you want to know about me?" and the poor guy just sat there wide-eyed for fifteen seconds of silence. All this studying how to be empathetic and model emotions, and NO ONE EVER TOLD US HOW TO START A CONVERSATION. Terrifying.
Ten minutes later, I jumped at the chance to tag team, and yes, utter terror. "What strengths to you do--do you bring to the, ahem, counseling staff?" I continued, horrified at my inability to speak English. But then he was off, and the conversation turned interesting, and the more I focused on him the less I thought about the twelve students staring at us. I think I looked empathetic, and I enjoyed learning about him, and I realized that counseling is HARD, because people don't say what you expect them to say, so you've got to be mentally agile and constantly map out where you want the conversation to go, but no, okay, maybe we'll go there instead. After my time was up, he gave me a high five, which was either pity or encouragement, and I'll take them both.
LOOK AT ME. Bossin' it up, being all sure I'll do that, and oh yeah, one of my friends asked me to be her sponsor while she goes through Steps, and WHAT. I'm like, all doing stuff I've been talking about, but only talking, and now I'm doing. It's crazy. Three weeks. Suddenly I'm a leader and proactive and passionate, and it feels like I've got my mojo back.
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