Giving Thanks for a Broken Heart

I vividly remember the all-important seventh grade dance where everyone stood around, step touching to *NSYNC or Backstreet Boys with the girls on one side of the gym and the boys on the other. There were always a few brave girls who crossed over to solicit a dance partner and a whole lot more who dreamed of which partner they hoped would venture over to ask them. I’d worked all year to flirt with the boys who frequented my weekly “Top 10 list” and had even carried around extra pens in my backpack, just in case one of them needed to borrow one. Each guarded smile and package of Gelly Rolls that was exchanged during the year lead me to this day. I just knew one of them would see me and think, “She’s pretty, I’ll ask her to dance.” As my mom found out through a flood of tears over a double batch of cookie dough, none of them did. My heart was broken.

            

As most seventh grade hearts do, mine eventually mended and I got over the rejection of the dance. As I moved through high school and college, I encountered many more opportunities for heartbreak: unrequited love, broken promises, broken dreams, deception, personal failure, and rejection. Intellectually, I understood that these experiences were all a part of the greater human experience, but I didn’t really like how they felt. I began to put up walls around my heart to protect it from the pain that accompanied these negative experiences and focused only on the positive aspects of life. Reflecting on that time, I don’t believe it was something that I did consciously, but it was more of a defense mechanism that evolved for self-preservation. I’ve always been a positive person and the negative emotions and experiences didn’t fit into my worldview. I also trivialized the pain I was feeling because I thought it was disproportionate to whatever triggered the pain response, wounding my pride and causing the feelings to flee deep below the surface where I wouldn’t have to face them. So while I downplayed or ignored my pain I began to develop some fear avoidance behavior, not allowing myself to be vulnerable or open with people because it might hurt too much if they reject me. This may have lessened opportunities to be hurt but it also lessened opportunities to experience love. And I learned, it didn’t actually protect my heart from breaking.

            

Over the past few years, God has taught me the importance of heartbreak in our lives and how we can be thankful for some of the most painful things we experience. While reflecting on what broke my heart in high school and college, despite my best efforts at protecting myself from pain, I began to see purpose in those experiences. It was often in those darkest times that I drew closest to God. I realized that life is beyond my control and my need for someone beyond myself became apparent. In a world that was constantly changing and at times disappointing, God was faithful to me; a constant refuge I could cling to when my world seemed out of control.  In him, I found hope and purpose that this life is not all that there is.

            

Personal heartbreak also helps us relate to one another. There is a huge difference between the academic knowledge of how pain works that I learned in physical therapy school and the physical knowledge of what pain feels like after several knee surgeries, weeks of rehab, and the dull ache that is present after a long day at work.  It is the same with emotional pain.  Living in a broken world means that we are going to meet broken people who relate best to other broken people. We don’t all share the same experiences, but God can take our heartbreak, no matter how trivial or inconsequential, and use it to evoke empathy for one another. It helps us better understand where our neighbor is coming from and why they react the way they do, deepening our ability to love and forgive each other’s grievances.

            

A broken heart can also change us to be more like Christ. Jesus’ heart broke for the sick and the lame, he wept with passion over the broken hearts of his friends, and he suffered heartbreak for the sin that leads us all into death and destruction. That heartbreak and obedience to his father, lead Him to action. He sacrificed his life for ours, enduring the suffering and shame of the cross, so that in him our hearts could be made whole. Because he was fully human, he understands our feelings of heartbreak. Because he was fully God, he was able to redeem that heartbreak and turn it into something wonderful.

            

When we place our life and trust in Him, we have power to do the same. Life becomes less about avoiding pain and more about allowing God to change our perspective on that pain, using it for something better. While in this life we are guaranteed to experience heartbreak and pain, we possess the power of Jesus to give thanks for heartbreak and rejoice in our pain. We suffer as those who have hope that the world we live in is only temporary, we are here for a short time with an important purpose: to bring glory to our Father in heaven and his Son Jesus Christ. We are called to live life not by avoiding pain at all costs, but embracing love and surrendering our lives to God no matter the cost. We fix our eyes on Jesus, drawing strength and joy to face our heartbreak and see it for what it is, temporary suffering for eternal glory.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." ~ James 1:2-4

"But he [Jesus] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christs's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, than I am strong." ~2 Corinthians 12:9,10

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God." ~2 Corinthians 1:3,4

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." ~Hebrews 12:2

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Confessions from the Heart of a Single Woman

 I enjoy my life. There are so many things I count as blessings everyday. I have a good job, great friends and family, a fun place to sleep and entertain, and extracurricular activities that I enjoy. It’s not perfect, I’m not perfect, but I truly look forward to waking up each morning to see what the new day will bring. With all of that being said, there are some days that are easier to wake up joyful than others. As a lifelong Christian and eternal optimist, I have struggled to voice what usually troubles me on those particularly difficult mornings. If I’m being honest, most days it’s about still being single. I like to think of myself as a strong, independent woman and worry that by defining my feelings surrounding singleness I will appear weak, discontent, or lonely. Those words have a desperate connotation to them that doesn’t seem to accurately describe how I feel about my current season of life. Have I felt those things? Absolutely. But I don’t think they tell the whole story. So, instead of sorting out my true feelings, giving voice to my troubles, I pretend not to feel anything or push them below the surface. Hidden away, they are less confusing, but often infect other parts of my life. Sometimes they will take the form of something I am more comfortable with facing or deem a more socially acceptable struggle, but usually they stay a shadow of undefined fears I try to keep hidden away. Thankfully, God has begun the process of renewing my mind in this area.

            

I like praying and spending time with God, asking difficult questions and listening to what he may be trying to whisper to my parched and weary soul. While praying one of the more difficult mornings, after a particularly discouraging self-pity party about my romantic life (or lack thereof), God whispered understanding into what I was experiencing, satisfying the thirst I kept trying to quench with chocolate. Romans 8:28 says that God works all things together for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose. He reminded me that He is good and will work out my singleness for good. My idea of what is good for me right now is not always his idea of good. He sees the whole picture of my life and the lives of people around me, revealing what is best for us in his perfect timing. My joy and my purpose must be found in him alone, trusting in Him and His timeline. He is my portion and my strength because I am weak and there is no shame in weakness. It is thru that weakness he displays his strength and his glory in my life.  By seeking satisfaction and fulfillment in something other than him, I will be disappointed and discouraged every time. He is the One who is unchanging and faithful in a world that changes all the time. I know what he has promised for my life and can trust that He will do what he promises.

            

The revelation was two-fold, because while he spoke the truth of His good plan for my life, he also reminded me there is one who is fighting against his good purpose and isn’t above using dirty tactics to do it.  In 1 Peter 5:8 it says that the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Satan seeks to destroy and distract me from the purpose God intends for my life. Reflecting on the days that are hard, the times that I question ‘why not me?’ or ‘why not now?’  most often come after God has done something incredible in my life or tangibly shown me that I have purpose and I am exactly where he wants me to be. As a single woman, my feelings of isolation, rejection, and a sense of being defective are often the strategy Satan utilizes to immobilize me. Instead of keeping my eyes fixed on Jesus, he points out those around me who are happy and in love and having babies and starting “real life.” This leads me down the rabbit hole of when is my “real life” going to start and why am I the last to be picked for a team? The reality is that real life is now and I have been picked for a team, a team that has kingdom purpose and eternal rewards waiting for me when I arrive at my forever home. Satan wants me to feel as though there is no one in the world who understands what I am going thru and that I am completely alone. He wants me to be silent about my struggles because when I don’t give voice to what I am feeling, I live in the shadows cast by undefined fears instead of the light of truth that God is greater than those fears.

            

The tactics Satan uses to immobilize the people of God are not unique to my single season of life. He seeks to isolate and plant seeds of doubt that God doesn’t actually work out our difficult circumstances for good. It may come in the form of mistrust between a husband and wife because of a small miscommunication that evolves into something much bigger. He divides and conquers the partnership God established to make it less effective in his kingdom building purpose. It may come in the form of infertility, as a couple struggles to understand why they are not able to bring new life into the world.  As each month passes with another reminder of failed conception, doubts of God’s good plan for their lives evolve into self-blaming, God-blaming fears that keep them internally focused, wavering between grief over their situation and guilt over that grief because they feel they should have more faith. Or it may be the rebellion of a child whose parents have loved, nurtured, and taught about the love and hope found in Christ.  The one they would give their life for continually throws daggers of hurtful words and actions meant to wound and destroy any hope of meaningful relationship during a pivotal season in growth. No matter what the difficult circumstance may be, Satan wants us to silently brood over our troubles, holding onto them tightly or stuffing them below the surface where they can fester instead of laying them down at the foot of the cross and allowing the balm of grace to heal our broken places.

           

Is it wrong for me as a single woman to desire a husband? Does it mean that I am not content with where God has placed me right now? Does it threaten my identity and solidarity with my fellow single sisters? When I bring these questions to my savior the resounding answer is no. It is not wrong for me to want a life partner with whom I can build a life with someday. It doesn’t mean that I can’t find contentment in the moment and rest in the place and season God has me in right now. And my identity as and solidarity with single women of God actually has nothing to do with the single part. I am a daughter of the most high King, created for the purpose of glorifying my savior and creator through the power of the Holy Spirit. The “single” part of my identity is only a box I fill in on the church attendance card or check when I register for a new driver’s license. It is a temporary season that fails to describe all who God has created me to be. My single sisters (and brothers) we are more than the label the world ascribes to us and more than the label we ascribe to ourselves. I pray we resist the lies Satan feeds us and hold onto the promises that what God has for us is good. No matter what season of life, or struggle you are working through, don’t suffer in silence; don’t cultivate the seeds of doubt, give voice to your fears, talk about your struggles, walk with others in weakness and vulnerability because chances are they are wrestling with doubts as well. Together, allow the truth of God to wash over you, encouraging light to drive away the darkness of the shadow of doubt. You will begin to see new blessings each day, even the tough ones.

Everything changes

Growing up my family had a large brown conversion van that shuffled us wherever we needed to go. It was huge and we drove it everywhere from soccer practice to school, the cabin up north to Richmond, Virginia. There was plenty of room to spread out and play with dolls or kick back and listen to Adventure in Odyssey tapes. It was an oasis of memories and I loved it, until about junior high. I think it was around 7^th grade that the sliding door stopped sliding making the back seat passengers have to crawl in through the front door to get to their seats. I also began to see the exterior as outdated, pocked with rust spots, and the overall size dwarfed the more fashionable sports cars my friends’ parent’s drove to pick from up school. I was embarrassed to be seen in it.  When my parents announced it was time to trade in our trusty van for a different vehicle, I was elated, that is until it actually came time to leave the van in the lot to drive the new one home. While my parents were inside signing papers, I sat in the van sobbing. The van and I had been through so much together and even though it was falling apart, I had a hard time letting it go.

This is what our van looked like new, isn't it pretty!

            

Everyone deals with changes in life a little bit differently. Some people seek out constant change and motion, getting bored quickly or forever looking for the adventure that waits around the corner. Others like things exactly as they are and want them to stay that way forever. I think I fall somewhere in the middle. I have a hard time with change emotionally but get excited when I think about what adventures are yet to come. The last few weeks have been a time of transition for me. There have been exciting changes in my life and the lives of some of my favorite people.  My brother has been called to step out of his role as small group leader for the group I’ve been blessed to share life with over the last two years and into a new opportunity God has laid on his heart. A dear friend has been called overseas for an extended period of time to fulfill the vision God has laid on her heart to make disciples of all nations. We have a new pastor at church that is full of life and the Spirit and is going to shake things up. I am excited about what God has in store for our church but I have a feeling it will be very different than what people are used to, leading to inevitable growing pains. And the biggest change happened earlier this month when my dear brother asked for my roommate’s hand in marriage. The future change from roommate to sister is beyond anything I could have ever imagined, but it does mean that I won’t have daily access to her wisdom, sharing of hearts, and wardrobe that I do now.  Our current situation will inevitably change.

           

The "Engberg" children on the day of the engagement! It was such a perfect day!

Intellectually, I know that change is good and that God uses times of transition to mold and shape us into the people he wants us to be but I find that I usually have to mourn the loss of what was, before I can see the beauty of what is to come. I struggle to articulate my true feelings because while the mourning part usually involves tears similar to the ones spilt over our old van, those tears don’t tell the whole story. Change also evokes excitement and joy in the promise of a new day, a future untainted by sins or regrets of the past, a thrill and terror of the great unknown. I live in a place of dichotomy where I am happy, sad, excited, and petrified, experiencing each emotion in succession yet all at once when I think about what each change actually means. In fact, I’ve struggled for weeks to write this post, because I can’t wrap my thoughts together in a nice package to present to you how I truly feel about change and the changes occurring in my own life. Maybe that is the point. Maybe change is supposed to evoke a variety of feelings within us so that we must cling to the one who is unchanging. We live in a dichotomy after all, striving for contentment and peace in the present moment, yet yearning for the promise of life eternal. Life and circumstances are in constant ebb and flow, threatening to turn our eyes from our Savior to the uncertainty of our surroundings. In times of change and transition we must remember that He is our Rock and our Redeemer, the One we can cling to, knowing he is the same yesterday, today, tomorrow, and forever. He longs for us to seek him, sit at his feet, and rest in whatever change may come.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights who does not change like shifting shadows.” ~James 1:17

Blessed are those who mourn

Grief is a tricky process. There are many different layers and each person journeys through that process a little bit differently. Some people are external processors, best expressing their pain and sorrow through tears or talking about the situation. Others are internal processors, presenting a strong front while reflecting and dealing with their emotions within themselves. I am a crier, I always have been and likely always will be. When tragedy strikes in my vicinity my first response is to cry. This is problematic for me because I often don’t feel I have the right to cry over a tragic situation that doesn’t directly affect me. More often then not I find myself frantically trying to hide my tears and deal with my emotions later. I really hate crying in front of other people.

            

Recently at work, we’ve had a string of kiddos on our inpatient unit who came to us out of tragic circumstances. These are kids that I don’t necessarily work with directly, but see in the gym on a daily basis. One patient was in a car accident and in the last couple weeks has come out of the fog of her brain injury to realize she lost most of her family in that accident. There was a day where she perseverated on this realization and her cries could be heard throughout the department as every 3-5 minutes it seemed she was just learning this fact for the first time. There was a child recovering from a brain tumor resection, undergoing chemotherapy while trying to learn how to walk again, a skill that only a few months earlier was second nature. And then there have been a couple near drowning cases that may be the hardest of all. Looking at them you can imagine the active child they used to be, but now their life and the lives of their family members have been drastically altered forever. Of course, in each of these cases, there is always hope, and graciously God gives the families and us as providers little victories to celebrate. But there are still times when all I want to do is cry for the tragedy and heartbreak. In school, we are taught the importance of staying emotionally disconnected from our patients and setting personal boundaries, but when you look into the faces of these precious kids and their families that task seems impossible.

            

This past Monday, I learned that a member of our Belmont soccer family passed away. He was someone that I wasn’t personally close to but we ran in the same circles and we’d often exchange pleasantries on the way to or from class or practice. He was always a nice guy and an important member of the Belmont community. I hadn’t spoken to him since I left Nashville but still felt a profound sense of sadness at the news of his passing. I was sad about a life that seemed to end too soon and for the many people he left behind. After hearing the news I was able to stay composed at work, but by the time small group rolled around, I was having a hard time keeping my tears at bay. When the pre-study question randomly picked out of 1001 options was “How do you comfort those around you when tragedy strikes?” I couldn’t hold them back any more. My answer to that question was I don’t know. I didn’t know how to be a comfort to those who were most hurting because I didn’t even understand what I was feeling. I was at least a 14-hour drive away from those who were most affected and hadn’t spoken to many of them in years but I wanted to do something.

            

As our time together in small group progressed, God used his word to speak peace into what I was feeling. We are in the middle of studying John, but the topic of blessings came up. What exactly is a blessing? We flipped over to the book of Matthew and started reading through the beatitudes. Matthew 5:4 says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” I had been feeling unworthy of mourning Suse’s passing because I wasn’t a close friend, but God reminded me of Romans 12:15, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” The context of this verse is Paul teaching the Romans about love, something I have been praying to understand more deeply. Mourning reveals our vulnerability and weakness as human beings. It is here that God meets us to provide his comfort and the blessing of his love to us. When we mourn together, we are stripped of our pretense and our true selves are laid bare. It is a place where we aren’t trying to impress one another and our sincere love for one another can be expressed.

So today, on my day off of work, I am mourning. I am mourning in Spirit with my Belmont family and Eric’s family as I bring them before God, asking for peace, comfort, and blessing as they grieve, honor, and celebrate his life. I am mourning for the kids and the families at work who’s lives have been forever changed and each day fight for a new sense of normal. I mourn because we live in a world where children get cancer, people die in car accidents, or families are told their child will never walk again. Tomorrow I may rejoice because his mercies are new every morning, but today I will mourn. As I mourn, I experience comfort and peace from a loving Father who’s heart breaks with mine over the pain of this broken world. He reminds me of Jesus’ words before he went to the cross, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” ~John 16:33 (NIV).  “These things” are not only the lessons Christ taught with his words, but how he lived his life. He wept and experienced grief for those whom He loved and for a broken and hurting world. It does no good to stuff or disconnect from my feelings of grief, I must experience them and bring them to the feet of Christ, allowing his peace to wash over my soul and deepen my love and compassion for the grieving world around me. The blessing he gives to the mourning is comfort and hope that while in this world we will have trouble, he has overcome the world. There is hope and peace in His name.

Psalm 23:

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be

            in want.

He makes me lie down in green

            pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,

            He restores my soul.

He guides me in paths of righteousness

            For his name’s sake.

Even though I walk

            Through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

            For you are with me;

Your rod and your staff,

            They comfort me.

You prepare a table for me

            In the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil;

            My cup overflows.

Surely goodness and love will follow me

            All the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord

Forever.

Life in the Slow Lane

Every “good girl” has a vice, a socially acceptable way to rebel against her “good girl” status.  I have one (ok maybe a few), but one that I want to confess to you today. My name is Michelle and I have a lead foot. It’s not as heavy as some people’s, but I definitely have a hard time actually driving the speed limit. I like the feeling of speed and freedom and beating all the slow cars I pass on long road trips. Of course the constant search for hidden cop cars can be exhausting and the checking of rearview mirrors to see if their radar caught the before detection speed or after slamming on the brake speed can be stressful, it’s all part of the excitement of the road race.

            

Last week, I drove from Minneapolis to Chicago for a long weekend to visit my cousin, her husband, and their adorable 7-month-old. It’s a really pretty drive and I enjoyed blasting music and singing at the top of my lungs or sitting in silence, spending time with God, praying for whoever or whatever the Holy Spirit brought to mind. On the way down I was able to take my time, stop frequently, stretch my legs, use the restroom or grab some food because I had to wait until my cousin got off work to arrive at their home. It was great! On my return trip, I had a hard time leaving after such a fun weekend so I got on the road a little later than planned. Around the 4 hour mark I was getting antsy and impatient to be home. It was around this time I decided to give my voice a break from harmonizing to the play list I’d created and spend a little quiet time with God. At one point during our time together I told him I wanted to increase my obedience, even if it meant doing something crazy. At that moment, I spotted a cop car radar gun pointed directly at me, poised to capture my illegal speed. Fortunately, I hit the brakes in time and averted a costly ticket. After releasing my bated breath, I heard God whisper how about you start by driving the speed limit. I laughed out loud as I cautiously resumed my previous speed, hit cruise and ignored the whisper because why would God care if I drove the speed limit or not. I tried to resume my prayer time, but kept getting distracted by the large number blazing in front of me, reminding me that I was breaking the law after God asked me not to, especially when I had just promised to practice better obedience. Going the speed limit was not the crazy type of obedience I envisioned but I slowly decelerated, moved over to the right side of the road, and set my cruise to the legal limit.

           

If you ever want to learn how to be patient, I suggest you try this exercise of driving only in the slow lane at exactly the speed limit. At first, I felt like I was traveling at a snail’s pace, inching my way along as cars that I had previously passed sped around me. When we hit a “work zone” (only cones present, no workers) the posted speed limit was 10 mph less than the previous speed limit. The pace was agonizingly slow and I thought I’d never get through it. When I was finally able to return to the normal speed limit, I was amazed at how fast it felt like I was traveling. While cars continued to pass me, I felt more in control and at peace about the journey that lay ahead. I didn’t have to change my cruise control setting nearly as much as when I was speeding, tight turns didn’t quicken my heart rate as they did at faster speeds, and I could better enjoy the beautiful scenery God placed before me as I drove. God also gave me an experience that provided insight to some things I’d been struggling with in my life.

            

When I was traveling at a slower speed, I was concerned about all the people who were passing me, how come God didn’t tell them they have to drive the speed limit? I was worried about what I would be missing out on at home because of the extra half hour I would be on the road due to my slower pace. What could I have been doing with that time that was now ‘lost’? What God taught me was that life isn’t about arriving at a destination. Just because many of my friends have met the men of their dreams and are starting families of their own, apparently passing me on the road of life, doesn’t mean that I am losing the race.  It means that God is giving me a different journey. By slowing to the speed limit, I was more present in the moment, taking in the scenery, allowing God to minister to my heart, and enjoying the extra time at the end of the trip listening to songs on my play list I hadn’t heard for years. There were moments where I questioned, “God are you sure you still want me to travel at this pace, look how fast everyone else gets to go!” He would gently whisper, Yes, I’m sure. This is your journey not theirs.

            

We are all waiting for something. Students are waiting for graduation because then life can really begin. Singles are waiting for their life partner because then life can really begin. Couples are waiting for children because then life can really begin. Parents are waiting for their kids to be out of diapers, or going to school, or graduating from school, or having kids of their own because then life will really begin.  I think it’s ok to live in anticipation or expectation about what is to come. We as Christ-followers should take great joy in what’s coming next, living with an eternal perspective. But when it comes to waiting in this life, no matter what we are waiting for, it’s important to be an active participant in the here and now of where God has placed you. Waiting is not meant to be a passive stage of being, remaining motionless so we arrive at our destination in one piece. Waiting is active, seeking God and taking crazy steps of obedience, even when you don’t see the purpose in those steps beyond this is what God wants me to do. When we focus on arriving at our destination and sit around waiting for it to happen, we miss the beauty of the journey along the way. Don’t let life in the fast lane hinder your ability to be present in the moment, actively participate in every second you’re given. Slow down and relish the life you’ve been given!

The Story of My Life (So Far)

The meet-cute. Girl and boy meet eyes across the Bunson burner in a high school  chemistry lab, instantly sparking not just the correct chemical reaction but a flame within their hearts through the exchange of hidden smiles and nervous laughter. Or hurriedly, girl flies around the corner, steaming coffee in hand, once again late for work when she literally crashes into boy, experiencing heat, not just from the coffee spilled on her blouse but as the once busy moment screeches to a halt. He offers his scarf to clean up the mess and it is love at first sight. It seems so easy in the movies. I’ve concocted many similar scenes with myself as the leading lady and yet to be named lucky mystery man sweeping me off my feet in a variety of random, romantic backdrops and circumstances. While Hollywood wants me to believe these fantasies as the end all and be all when defining love and romance, I’ve discovered that God has something much more real and imaginative when it comes to the story of my life. He continually shows me, the best is yet to come.

           

I grew up in an amazing Christian home and was taught about Jesus and the power of prayer from a very young age. I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior at Pioneer Girls when I was 6 years old and if I’m being honest, nothing really changed. I still prayed before I went to sleep, or when I was afraid, or when things weren’t going my way, just as I was taught. I never experienced a major transformation moment.

            

When I was in junior high, I discovered the power of God’s word as living and active. I’d read the Bible before then and even earned lots of merit badges for memorizing Scripture, but junior high was the first time I felt that God was speaking directly to me. I had gotten into a disagreement with some friends at school and I remember coming home discouraged and upset, opening my Bible to some random page, and reading a passage that spoke exactly to what had happened that day. I was so excited, I wrote the verse on a note card and shared it with one of my friends the next day. From then on, I was hooked. I tried to read my Bible every day and then apply what I was reading to how I lived my everyday life. I grew in my faith and made it through my high school years, full of ups and downs, excited about who God was and how he was moving in and through me.

            

I was blessed with an amazing support system through my family, friends, youth group, and church family. However, when graduation came, I decided I wanted to explore the country and felt God calling me to attend a school away from home. The school I attended had a soccer team willing to let me play and was a Christian school so I was pumped about playing with other Christ followers. Because it was a Christian school, I had a picture in my mind of it being kind of like church camp but four years long and a little bit more homework. I knew that God had called me to this school for a purpose and I was excited to see what that purpose was: would I meet my husband? Would I be the leading scorer and earn a starting spot so I could give all the glory to Him? Would I wow everyone in my honors classes with my God-given wisdom and lead them to a better understanding of who God is? I had great dreams for all I would accomplish for the glory of God’s kingdom and my own personal success. I thought I knew the good God wanted for me, so I obediently left home for the great unknown.

            

God’s good for me turned out to be a lot different than what I expected. I experienced some difficult things while at school and in fact almost transferred back home after a particular incident with my teammates. I became a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I was quiet, reserved, and unsure of who I was. I longed for the comfortable setting of my high school hallways where I knew most everyone, I was a consistent starter and productive member of a soccer team, and things came more or less easily to me. I had to continually fight for playing time on the soccer field, daily felt inadequate intellectually during discussions in my honors classrooms, and socially became awkward and unsure of how to relate to the people around me. I knew in my heart of hearts that God had lead me to this school so I did my best to cover up my insecurities and put on a brave face for my friends and family back home and at school. I had this idea that God wanted me to be happy and positive in hard situations, so I pretended I was happy and tried to stay positive instead of revealing how out of place and miserable I felt a lot of the time. I thought I was being obedient in God calling me to this school and didn’t want the people around me to think God was wrong to make me feel miserable, or I heard him wrong, heaven-forbid, so I did my best to portray the version of myself I thought would please the most people and put myself and God in the best light.

            

When it was time to go to grad school and pursue my dream of being a physical therapist, I felt God calling me back to MN. Slowly, but surely, he began to rebuild the self-confidence I lacked in college with a little bit of humility woven through. I thrived in my new surroundings, easily making friends, succeeding in the classroom, and even finding success on the soccer field through our class’s intramural team. God continued to call me to obedience in other areas, leading me to an amazing 3-week internship in Niger Africa where I learned how physical therapy and international missions may have a place together in my life. He lead me to a church where I moved from a fringe observer to an active member and participant in ministry. He brought men and women into my life that strengthen and encourage me in my daily walk with Christ.  They accept me as I am, but love me enough not to leave me that way, challenging me toward total surrender and dependence on God as we do life together.

            

The pain I experienced and the shattered dream of college being the “best days of your life” stayed with me long after graduation even as I began to heal in other ways. I limped along thinking there was something wrong with me or I had misunderstood God or if only I had been stronger I could have really made a difference in the lives of the people I met there. I frequently agonized over the missed opportunities to stand up for what I believed during a class discussion or share insight into what God was teaching me with someone I had a hard time relating to. Until recently, I looked back thinking I had failed my college experience and wasted the ministry God called me to there. Even the amazing experiences and people I met who positively influenced my faith journey, were viewed through a dirty lens of the overall sense of failure surrounding that time in my life.

            

One of the verses God has laid on my heart recently is Romans 12:1-2. It says: “Therefore, I urge you brother, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is-His good, pleasing and perfect will.” (NIV) Together, God and I have begun the process of renewing my mind and much of that process has involved my time spent at school. He has laid me on the hearts of others to reach out and share how much I influenced their life during that time or laid others on my heart to reconnect and demonstrate why the relationships I made during that time are important today. He has shown me that I didn’t make a mistake in the school that I chose but was being obedient as he called me to be, even when things were difficult. He also showed me that I don’t have to have my life together in order to glorify his kingdom. He took my brokenness, the version of myself I didn’t like and used it in ways I never expected. I may have missed opportunities, but I have been forgiven and he offers second, third and seventy-third chances to try again as I earnestly offer myself as a living sacrifice. I am a work in progress and he continues to craft a beautiful story out of what I perceived as ugliness or failure in my life.

            

In the past, I’ve hesitated to share my faith story or testimony because my story doesn’t have the all-important Jesus meet cute I've heard in other people's story. There is no defining transformation moment between the pre-Christ me and the after-Christ me. But as I reflect on real life love stories: my parents, my aunts and uncles, my friends and cousins, it’s less about how they met and more about the journey to here and now. They’ve experienced the ups and downs of life together: there have been triumphs and failures, heartache and joy, conflicts and resolutions. They started as two separate people with dreams and agendas and goals of their own that merge into one as they journey in love together. The world wants us to think the only stories worth telling are fairy tales with interesting beginnings and happy endings. But the story God wants us to share is one that is real and in progress. Our stories are woven together with care for good, even if that good is realized much later. He calls us to recognize the importance of the story he has written in our lives, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and share it with the world. In our weakness, he is strong, and in our brokenness we are made whole by the beauty of his love. And that is the story he has written for my life, so far.  I'm excited to see what comes next...

"But he [Jesus] said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."

~2 Corinthians 12:9  

What story has God written for you? Are you ready to share it? Take a step of faith and share the story of love God has written on your heart. You'll be so glad that you did! Have a wonderful day!

Finding Victory Off the Field

I’ve been a competitor my whole life. I began playing soccer at the tender age of 4, although some may argue that making dandelion chains and chasing butterflies hardly qualifies as playing soccer. Eventually, I caught on to the point of wearing matching t-shirts with a number on the back, funny shoes, and plastic hidden under our socks. All I had to do was kick the ball with my feet into a large rectangular box, backed by orange netting and my team would get a point. The team with the most points wins. I could do that. So I did, for the next 20-something years. It came naturally to me and I loved the thrill of competition. While soccer was my main competitive outlet, it wasn’t the only one. I competed in ice hockey, track and field, show choir, memorizing Bible verses, board games, water balloon tosses, test grades, fishing contests, and of course who saw the Big Bobber water tower first on the way up to the cabin. You name it, I won it, I mean competed for it. I thrived on competing in anything that won me a trophy, medal, merit badge, write-up in the newspaper, or the satisfaction of knowing I was better than someone at something.

            

Being a Christian, I always tried to be a humble competitor, one who worked hard and demonstrated integrity in the way I competed. But below the surface bubbled a prideful heart that warred with the humble competitor I was striving to be. I wanted to be the best and put in many hours to perfect my chosen crafts, so why shouldn’t I get the glory for my hard work? But at the same time I knew that my gifts came from God, my work ethic came from God, and He provided the resources so I could participate in my chosen contests. Does that mean glory belonged to him? This competition for who was responsible for my success, a fight between my prideful self and my humble self, has waged for many years, and truth be told, is often a daily struggle.

            

I was blessed to compete in the sport I loved for many years, enjoying the ups and downs of wins and losses, success and failures that are all a part of the beautiful game. So what does a retired, performance driven, college soccer player do for competition once she’s graduated? Well find other soccer players to compete with of course! The funny thing I’ve discovered about pride is that insecurity over damaging said pride follows closely behind. I never liked to share what level soccer I played in college, because what if I didn’t live up expectations? What if I’d lost my touch? What if I’d lost a few steps and no longer possessed what it took to compete on the soccer field? Did I ever really have what it took to compete on the soccer field? The fate of championship t-shirts may ride squarely on my shoulders! This is an over-dramatization but not far from some of the thoughts that flooded my over-achieving, self-reliant, competition-driven mind. I defined myself for so long by what I was able to accomplish, that when those opportunities for accomplishment ended, I lost part of my identity. In order to win back that identity, I had to find new ways to compete, new goals to accomplish. So I took to the field. I told everyone it was just for fun, a way to stay in shape, a way to stay connected to the friends and family I played with, and a way to stay connected to a game I enjoyed.

            

But part of me knew it was more than that, it was a water-downed way to feed the beast that was my pride. The monster that it fed didn’t always rear its ugly head to the people around me but internally I was beating myself up for mistakes, getting frustrated when people weren’t working as hard as I was, and hating games where I couldn’t put the ball in the net, even if we won. Now don’t get me wrong, I still loved it, but I think that may be due in part to the blinders I wore for years about the truth of my prideful heart. It took a knock to the head for the cobwebs to clear and God to reveal the work he wanted to do in me.

            

After the concussion I sustained that fateful January night while competing in the game I loved, God gave me time to reflect on a lot of things. In his most loving, tender way he told me, “Oh sweet daughter, you are a fool, I have a better way.” And thus began the journey of the last couple months. It’s been a time of healing, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. A time for God to remind me who I am to Him, the only identity that truly matters. I am a daughter of the most high king, blessed, chosen, adopted, favored, forgiven, redeemed. All the trophies and accolades I accumulated here on earth were merely cheap imitations of the identity I longed to claim all because of what Christ did for me on the cross. It is done, victory is his and in turn, victory is mine.

            

What’s incredible is that God didn’t stop there with his lesson plan. Over the last couple months, I’ve played a different role at sporting events than what I am used to. It is the one of spectator. Most of my life has been spent competing in athletic contests, but now games that I once played in, I watch. And since I don’t have to pay close attention to what is happening, I chat.  When I am not so focused on winning or losing, I am able to connect with the people around me. When I was so wrapped up in my performance, it was difficult to see anyone but myself. Even when talking with people, I competed to have the best story to share, thinking about the next witty tidbit I was going to share instead of listening to the person in front of me. I’ll probably expand more in my next post about what God is teaching me regarding relationships, but the connections I made on the sidelines this winter had a profound impact on how I viewed my new non-competitor status.  Don’t get me wrong, if you ask anyone who played Battle of the Sexes with me last weekend, they’d tell you I still enjoy a good competition and get wrapped up on the heat of the moment. I’m still a work in progress. But I’m learning that people are always more important than winning or losing, proving that I’m right, or having the best story to share. My worth is wrapped up not in my athletic ability or witty repartee, but in the love God has for me, and how I allow that love to overflow into a world that desperately needs it. It is a love we don’t have to compete for, but is given when we surrender our lives to the one who laid down his life as a sacrifice for us. Our identity is not tied to competition and performance, but who we are in Christ. Through Him and His sacrifice, victory is always ours.

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

     did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,

but made himself nothing,

     taking the very nature of a servant,

     being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

     he humbled himself

     and became obedient to death-

          even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place

     and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

      in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,

      to the glory of God the Father."

~Philippians 2:3-11 (NIV)

Never be afraid to claim the victory that is yours in Christ. Surrendering is not safe and goes against everything we are taught about how to live our lives. But there is freedom in surrender and victory that surpasses all we can think or imagine. Have a blessed day!

Trading my superwoman cape for a crown

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” ~Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV)

I’ve had this verse underlined in my Bible for years and have even written it down to display in my room on mirrors or bulletin boards because I liked the sound of it. It painted the picture of a loving savior, opening his arms, and inviting me to enjoy a vacation with him.  No schedule, no work, just rest for a weary soul. But this verse was never a reality to me until this year and my experience over the last few weeks. I had no idea how God was going to use it to radically alter how I looked at life, relationships, his character, my character, silence, and being still. It has been one of the most frustrating, horrible, wonderful, and exhilarating experiences of my life.  The blessings God revealed during this time will likely span a few posts because a number of you have already sat through the disjointed monologue lasting 15-30 minutes and I won’t subject you to that again. But I am excited to share this story and the ones that follow. I pray that it will lead you to your own place of rest and open your eyes to a most loving and gracious creator who wants to spend time just the two of you.

           

In my lifetime, I don’t think I could count the number of soccer balls that have flown at great speeds toward my head. It’s the nature of this beautiful game, sometimes you are prepared for them, and sometimes you are not. Friday, January 4, 2013, I was not prepared for the ball that hit me in the face and knocked me off my feet to the turf below. I remember leaving the game, thinking I was a little tippy and probably shouldn’t play anymore (although I later learned I got back up and continued playing for awhile after the hit). The rest of the weekend brought a couple different birthday celebrations and only in retrospect were there hints that something may not be quite right. By the time Monday rolled around, I thought I had a touch of food poisoning from the day before and called in sick to work. What I learned as the day progressed, was that I was having a hard time focusing, the light’s were unbearable making my eyes want to stay closed and retreat into darkness, and I had a headache. At some point, when the words I was reading started jumping around the page, going in and out of focus, I realized that I probably had a concussion. No big deal I thought. I work with concussions every day and knew exactly what to do. I put myself on physical and cognitive rest, turned off all the lights in my apartment, and slept 10-12 hours each night with 1-2 naps during the day for the next week.

           

Well, if the concussion weren’t enough, later that week I caught one of those nasty bugs floating around that felt like I was swallowing a hornets’ nest, my face was going to explode off my head, the facet in my nose was locked in the on position, and a 500 pound grizzly bear had taken up residence on my chest.  This lasted about a week until the doctor gave me some antibiotics and I began to re-enter the land of the living. Two weeks after the initial hit to the head, I returned to work for a half day, finally over the bug and feeling part human again. It was a Friday so I had the weekend to recover. Monday, I woke up excited to get back to normal, ignoring the little headache that had become a new normal. I thought I was ready to go back to a full day of work. I thought wrong. I lasted the entire day, thinking my little headache would go away as the day progressed. It didn’t. Not even when I took my daily allotment of Aleve before noon. It kept getting worse, making me wish I could pull off wearing sunglasses inside. When the day was finally over, I called my mom, burst into tears, and drove directly to my parents house where my mom tucked me into bed like when I was a little girl. I took the rest of the week off and set up an appointment with a concussion specialist. Together we developed a plan for return to work at a gradual pace, starting with 5 hours per day and working my way back to full time as tolerated.  As of this week, I am almost there!! I was essentially away from work for 3 weeks total and dropped all other extracurricular activities as I tried to let my brain injury heal.

        

 January 3, 2013, in my prayer journal I asked God for rest. I asked that he would show me how to sit and be still in his presence. I had so many activities going on, good things that I enjoyed doing, that almost every night of the week was scheduled. Most unscheduled time went to watching TV so I could veg and try to relax in preparation for the next day that was sure to be crazy. I was trying to be superwoman. I kept comparing myself to the women around me, thinking that I should be able to keep up the same pace or even a busier one since I don’t have a husband or kids to take care of. There were so many things to juggle I didn’t know how to relax, worrying that everything would come crashing down around me if I stopped for even a moment. It was pride and insecurity and an unspoken belief that the world would stop turning if I weren’t there to save it. So God gave me a time out. He showed me how to rest. I went kicking and screaming and crying at first (concussions make you very emotional) but with patience and compassion he gently called me into his presence. Maybe he gave me the concussion or maybe he just allowed it to happen, making the most of an opportunity to get my attention. Either way, I’m grateful for the experience. Everything I could do, reading, writing, watching TV, working out, working, spending extended amounts of time in well-lit areas, was stripped away. I had to learn how be. He taught me how to be still, how to be in his presence, how to be me without doing. I was carrying all the burdens superwoman should be able to handle and getting choked by a cape that didn’t fit. God taught me how to surrender those burdens to Christ, lay them at his feet, and be fit for a yoke that was light and designed just for me. He loved me enough to carve out time so that he could remind me of who I am to him. I am his daughter, his crowned princess, his beloved. Psalm 103:4 says He redeemed my life from the pit and crowned me with steadfast love and mercy. 

           

I’m still learning, still healing, and slowly but surely beginning to venture back into the land of doing things again. But I am learning to do things with a renewed spirit, and a sense of peace that only comes from being in his presence first, drawing my worth from him instead of all those activities. I am not superwoman but I do know the creator of the universe who claims me as his own, giving me a crown of life. I’ll take that crown over a superwoman cape any day. Beside, the matching tights just aren’t really my style.

           

            

A Small Slice of Humble Pie

Have you ever asked God for something that you weren’t really sure you wanted, but knew it was something you needed? Did God give you an answer that completely blew away your expectations and made you wonder why you ever doubted? This has been my experience over the past month. It all began one snowy Sunday night when our women’s small group was cancelled due to weather and my roommate and I decided to stay in and watch the church service on-line. Our apartment was already clean and we had set aside time for small group, so we spent the hour and a half before church started reading the Bible and journaling, spending some quiet time with God. It was during this time that I decided to ask God for something I’ve wanted to ask for but have been avoiding because I was afraid. You see, I have an issue with pride and I know that God desires humility, but I also know that humility is not something that just happens, it’s a process, a work of transformation. It was this process that I was afraid of. Could I really handle the pain and turmoil of the process? So that’s where I started. I told God I was afraid to ask for humility but I know it’s something that I needed, could he show me how not to be afraid? And so the journey began.

            

The sermon series for the month of December was about drawing inspiration from quotes of the Christmas story. The key verses were familiar, as I’ve read and reread them every Christmas. But this year, I saw the story in a whole new light. The sermon on that snowy night was based on Luke 1:30 “Do not be afraid…” When the titled flashed across the screen, I literally laughed out loud, flipped open my journal, and read part of my latest entry to my roommate cause she looked confused at my laughter. I knew then, it was time to surrender and allow God to transform my prideful heart into one of humility, no matter how it came to be.

            

As much as I love snow, the next day I discovered what a headache it can be during my commute to and from work. My drive time doubled, the streets of St Paul were covered with ice making the trek up the hill to my parking ramp impossible. I was one of those people stuck at an intersection, my wheels spinning, crying because I could see the ramp and see my work but I could only reverse and slide further down the hill, away from where I wanted to go. I eventually made it to work half an hour late despite leaving early. This was the trend the entire week, long drives to and from work with slippery roads and crazy drivers who forgot what its like to drive in the snow. That week I was met with patient after patient who just weren’t getting better despite all my best efforts. Intellectually, I know that it’s normal for kid’s progress to ebb and flow and that I can’t always fix everything, but that week, the ebb seemed to outweigh the flow and I could only see my inadequacy as a therapist. It was also this week that I went to go visit a friend whose child was in the NICU. I was excited to meet their newest bundle of joy and see my friends, but felt helpless to know what to say or do. The doctors gave them a bleak prognosis for what his life would look like if/when he left the hospital and I was at a loss as to how be there for them during this difficult time.

           

I started to regret my decision to surrender and allow God to transform my prideful heart. I was exhausted and could only focus on how small and out of control I was, I lost sight of the bigger picture. The next sermon was entitled, “I am the Lord’s servant…” It was about Mary’s response to God’s decision to make her the mother of his Son. Mary is revered by many people of faith throughout the world, but I’d never personally given her much thought except as a character in the Christmas story. This sermon helped me to see her as a true model of humility. She couldn’t see the whole picture, but she trusted God and His promises anyway. The entire week I was focusing on my shortcomings and inadequacy as a human, the things that were out of my control. This only lead to insecurity and doubt in the person God created me to be. I forgot that the most important thing about humility is that it isn’t about me at all, it’s about God.

            

Humility is surrendering control to God because of who He is, trusting that He can see the big picture, and that He will hold true to His promises. Humility isn’t about examining your shortcomings, it’s about turning your eyes to the creator of the universe and discovering the freedom of surrender. I learned that by keeping my eyes on Christ, circumstances don’t necessarily change, but I see those circumstances I once found overwhelming as opportunities to see God at work. I will always have patients that don’t get better or have friends going through difficult times. There will always be circumstances that are out of my control, problems I want to fix but can’t. Humility grants me the opportunity to allow God to work in and through me during difficult times and to experience the blessing of seeing Him as He is.

          

So now that I’ve mastered humility and become the most humble person you’ll ever meet (ok so maybe I’m still a work in progress), I’m excited to see what blessings God has in store for the New Year. I hope you had a blessed holiday and were able to spend time reflecting on what God taught you in 2012, the good, the bad, and everything in between.

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." ~1 Peter 5:6