Tag Archives: Faith

Chronic Fatigue – Vanishing Spoons (Part 2)

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thNVFN4H4ATo understand the full context, I recommend reading Vanishing Spoons (Part 1) first.

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I awoke the next morning feeling like I had been hit by a truck. My head ached and I felt an oozy sickness just asking my brain to process simple tasks. Getting ready for work took Herculean effort. I was clearly experiencing SSD (Serious Spoon Deficit).

Yet off to work I went.   It would not be the first (or the last) time I would press on despite feeling horrible.   Thankfully it was a quiet morning. Although my brain was crying out for reprieve, I urged it to keep performing. I responded to emails, worked on project details, and miraculously drafted coherent correspondence.   I was thankful I had survived the morning, but I knew I had pushed it as far as I could. The proverbial “wall” was fast approaching, and I was on a collision course with it. By noon, my gracious and accommodating supervisor understood that I needed to go home for the day.

That afternoon it all caved in. Continue reading →

Trusting God in the Dark

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ultrasound machine

It felt like the walls were closing in. A dim, recessed bulb cast a faint ray of light from the ceiling. The only other illumination was the eerie glow from the high-tech machine just used to perform a test on me. I was alone, lying on a paper-covered exam table. A white towel covered the suspect part of my body and a medical gown barely covered the rest.

The unsmiling technician had routinely performed the test without emotion, lending neither comfort nor revelation. “I’m going to get the doctor to discuss the findings,” was all she said as she closed the door behind her.

I knew the specialist could walk in and announce that I had a deadly disease. I had waited weeks for this test after an earlier exam revealed something suspicious. Only in my thirties, fear clutched at my throat as I tried to brace myself for what could be the worst news of my life. I instinctively began praying: “God—where are you? Please help me not to be afraid. Please help me feel your peace.” Fear’s grip didn’t loosen, and I felt utterly alone. I prayed with more determination. “God, you say that you will never leave or forsake us. Please take away this fear!” Still, the calming sense of peace I cried out for refused to permeate the sterile environment.

The doctor arrived, and though he delivered good news, joy escaped me. I was exhausted from feeling as if I had borne the stress alone. And I was hurt and confused because God had not responded the way I thought he should. For several days afterward my faith was shaken. But gradually I began to see that the rattling was for my own good. My concept of God was being jostled right out of its tiny box.

After being a Christian for many years, I thought I knew God. I thought I could predict how he would respond to my cries for help. My experience in the exam room reminded me that God is much bigger than my understanding. While I rest secure in His goodness, faithfulness, and grace, His ways will always be higher than mine. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord” (Isaiah 55:8). He is all-knowing and all-powerful, and does what he deems best, even if at the moment it might not feel comfortable or “safe.”

C.S. Lewis captured this aspect of God in hisAslan portrayal of Aslan, the character who represents Christ in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Mr. Beaver describes Aslan to the four children: “Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he – quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.” “That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” “Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy. “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

As I grappled with the dual concepts of God’s goodness and his untamable nature, some of the peace I craved in that dark room showed up. I learned that I cannot approach God with a vending machine mentality (insert prayer, immediately receive the answer to my specifications). I now realize that even though God didn’t instantaneously take away my fear when I asked Him to, it didn’t mean he wasn’t there. Psalm 34:15 confirms that “The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their cry.” He was there even when I couldn’t “feel” him.  He was there even when he didn’t act the way I thought he should. He heard my cry for help—but in his wisdom he allowed me to experience a situation that stretched my faith.   I learned the important lesson that I can never control God—only trust him.

In his book, “Knowing God,” J.I. Packer states, “We may be frankly bewildered at things that happen to us, but God knows exactly what he is doing and what he is after. Always, and in everything he is wise. We shall see that hereafter even where we never saw it here. Meanwhile, we ought not to hesitate to trust his wisdom even when he leaves us in the dark.”

Like he did with me, in that exam room. It was right where I needed to be.

Unfulfilled Longings

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Last night’s flavors linger fondly in my memory . . . a warm, robust soup served around a candle-lit table . . . the laughter shared among five long-time friends . . . the rustle of tissue paper as birthday gifts were unveiled . . . delicate sips of fragrant tea . . . the softness of cozy afghans as we curled up to watch a movie after dinner. These are memories I savor with fondness and thanksgiving.

I could choose to recall the evening differently. Instead of focusing on the positive moments, the night could have quickly become a reminder of what I don’t have. My four friends are all happily married with beautiful children. It was only natural that much of the chatter centered on their families. At times it was hard to join in the conversation. If I hadn’t carefully re-directed my thought patterns, the evening could have easily become fodder for a pity party later.

Like many singles, it’s sometimes a challenge to feel content when most of your peers are married. For a number of years, I thought the solution was to reach a point of maturity where I no longer felt the desire to marry. Perhaps I assumed that if I just tried hard enough, I would receive the magic “gift of singleness” that would take all my longings away. An article in Today’s Christian Woman captures why this is unlikely to happen. The author wrote, “The desire to be married is actually a hundred different longings, from the want of physical and emotional intimacy, to the simple wish to feel a sense of belonging in a room filled with couples.” No wonder it was an exercise in futility to try and suppress my desire for a soulmate.

So how do we live with unfulfilled longings, whether it is the desire to be married, to be a parent, or something else? I am discovering that one of the keys to contentment is to savor what I have, instead of focusing on what is absent. To savor is to “taste with delight.” It implies a sense of lingering and fully relishing the flavor of the moment.  Savoring means noticing little things, like last night, when I smiled at the artistic way my friend folded the napkins.

It also involves savoring the broader strokes God has painted in my life. While he has not opened the door for me to marry, God has given me many other opportunities, like pursuing an education. One of my married friends expressed her feelings of inadequacy because she had never attended college. As she shared, I realized that everyone deals with issues of insecurity and unmet dreams, especially when we compare ourselves to others.

What would happen if we stopped looking longingly at the grass on the other side of the fence and started savoring our own garden? For example, when I reflect on all the things I have in common with my precious wedded friends, the differences in our marital status seem to fade away. When I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving for the things I typically take for granted, I’m less likely to envy. As I step out in faith to share my unique talents and gifts, I discover that I can make a difference, just as I am. When I take time to nurture my relationship with Christ, I find true belonging, security, and a love that never fails.

Savoring doesn’t come naturally in our fast-paced world, but ultimately we have the choice of where we focus our thoughts and heart.   The more time we spend savoring, the more content we are likely to become.   Something surprising might even happen along the way—we may discover that our longings are being fulfilled in unexpected ways.   God’s desire is to give us fullness of joy—not in some distant future when all our “dreams” are met, but as we trust Him today.

Warm Beach 2011 064

The Quest for Contentment

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I surveyed the empty chairs in the meeting room, estimating that a handful of people might show up. After all, the “popular” seminar topics were scheduled in the larger rooms and would draw the majority of conference participants.   Soon I began to see a steady stream of figures coming up the walkway and entering the room. They poured in until it was standing-room only.   I never dreamed that a workshop on contentment would have such broad appeal.

The lesson I learned that day is that the quest for contentment is universal, and for most of us, never-ending. But what is this elusive contentment? Bing Dictionary defines it as “a feeling of calm satisfaction,” and goes on to describe that it is results from “a circumstance, or a feature or characteristic of something that gives rise to satisfaction.” The Merriam Webster Dictionary describes it as “the feeling experienced when one’s wishes are met.”

These definitions may well capture how many of us view contentment. We’ve all had those moments (however brief) when we’ve emitted a peaceful sigh and felt that all was right with the world. It’s a beautiful feeling.   Unfortunately, if we are only contented when circumstances are perfect and all our wishes are met, we will spend the majority of life in a state of dissatisfaction.

Scripture lends a new light on contentment. My favorite passage on the topic is Philippians 4:11-13. The author, Paul, who certainly did not lead an easy life, states boldly, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

What is this great secret? Paul states “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”   He knew from first-hand experience that trusting Christ was the only way to be content, regardless of circumstances.   Whether chained in a prison cell or in the fellowship of family and friends, Paul knew that Jesus would never leave him.   He trusted God to meet not only his physical needs, but to give him mental, emotional and spiritual strength. Christ faithfully gave him an eternal perspective that enabled him to find peace and purpose in the harshest of times. As a result, he confidently proclaimed, “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4:19).”

The Holman Bible Dictionary defines contentment as “An internal satisfaction which does not demand changes in external circumstances.” Now that’s the type of contentment we can all have hope of achieving.