child.

She felt the warmth under her bare feet as she took giant steps forward, careful not to step on the cracks in the pavement. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sunshine seemed to cheer everything in sight. With a fistful of wildflowers in one hand, she used the other to carefully pluck the flower petals from their respective stems. Finally in one grand motion, she throws the petals above her head and laughs as she watches them drift to the ground all around her. 

Then, she counts them methodically to see which side of the sidewalk received the most abundant snowfall of petals. 

Petals on the left? Kitten. Petals on the right? Puppy. 

The left side has the most petals, so she shrugs her shoulders and began hunting for more flowers while she daydreams about the color and name of her kitten.

-

2:26pm. The soft pink curtains and horse stickers on the wall seem to be staring at her in a hostile way. It's been too many days in this room and it feels as if the bedroom itself is angry at her for overstaying her welcome. She looks at her feet, the lump in the blanket at the base of her bed. It's quiet, but not peaceful. The room feels empty in a tangible way. 

Another cassette tape, another coloring book, another week of homework in bed. 

And she's starting to lose the ability to care. 

-

She grasps for the tangled, black mane of what she believes to be the best and most beautiful horse in the galaxy. In the other hand, she balances the green and white nylon reins between her fingers. On Kitty's bare-back, she can feel the excited energy under her seat and along the inside of her legs.  As hooves pound the sod in the field beneath them, her own adrenaline surges to match the horse. 

It's as if she is flying above reality for a few moments where nothing can touch her, and nothing compares to this feeling.

-

I don't particularly love vulnerability.

Ok, let's be honest, vulnerability terrifies me.

(If you can think of a more intense, fear related word, insert that).

Now, I can share my story. I can share personal details about myself. I can even share things that felt vulnerable at the time. Heck, I've written blogs that I promoted as "vulnerable." But here's the cache:

Vulnerability is not about what you are saying, it's about the state of being that you are in. 

I can speak "vulnerable," without being vulnerable. Not to brag, but I think I'm pretty good at it. I know the art of faking vulnerability with my words without ever engaging my heart.

Vulnerability is looking you in the eyes and allowing a chink in the armor of my heart. It is bringing all of myself to the table to sit down and talk. It is a choice to trust. To be exposed. And to risk the look on your face and the tone in your voice when you see me. Really see me.

Disclaimer: Before you get excited about this post being "vulnerable" I want to tell you upfront that the most sensitive parts of me and this process will not be broadcasted on the internet. But I do want to share a piece of, you know, the less-authentically-vulnerable version. 
(Later, we can talk about why I believe blogging, texting, emailing, etc. is a near impossible way to be vulnerable anyway).

Back to the blog post.

I think I grew up too fast. 

There is a good chance you might have too.

Childhood can be stolen away too early by a great number of events: broken families, medical crisis, abuse, neglect, loss of a loved one, a major move, etc. Most things could be summed up in one word: Trauma. And newsflash, if you are reading this as a human on planet earth, you've experienced trauma.

Even the most ideal of transitions to adulthood is still quite jarring. For most of us, when we are young there are many things of which we are blissfully unaware and unconcerned. As we approach adulthood, it's as if the blinders come off and the world is suddenly, horrifyingly, not what it seemed. Even many children who experience trauma seem to wear rose colored glasses (or a full-on blindfold) to cope until they reach an age where they are able to digest the full implications of their experience. I believe this is a God-designed mercy.

Not everything about growing up is bad or painful. In fact, becoming an adult has a vast array of privileges. But...I'm not writing to talk about the joys of becoming an adult. I'm writing because something sad happened in my process and I want healing. Maybe you do too.

I'm learning that problem was not actually growing up little Joanna. 
.
.
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It was leaving behind little Joanna.
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(I imagine that the mature and sophisticated crew just closed their browser to find more sensible reading material).

Here's the part that is sorta-vulnerable...

I was a really happy kid. I loved life, loved people, LOVED animals. Any disruption to my happy world triggered the use of my creative tool-box of child-like coping skills (AKA: strategies to pretend the disruption doesn't exist).

As I approached adulthood, my pretend-away-problems method started to breakdown. Cue shock, horror, devastation, etc. And instead of helping my young self grow up (which is not really possible to do when you are said young self), I resented myself for being just that: young, vulnerable, trusting, happy, etc.

I was angry with the little girl for laughing without fear.
I was angry with the little girl for dancing freely.
I was angry with the little girl for believing that the world was a safe place.
I was angry with the little girl for the stories she told herself to cover up reality.
I was angry with the little girl for trusting people with her tender heart.

So instead of helping her grow, I locked her away. Somewhere deep inside my heart there is a door to a room where the most vulnerable parts live and that is her home.

I thought that if I ignored her long enough she would wither away, disappear, or die.

But she's still there.
.
.
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"Child."

He was subtle, but clear.

"I was there."

Unwanted images flashed through my mind, sensations in my body, and emotions flooding.

That's not me. 

I could picture her, but it's almost as if my brain refused to acknowledge that it was a younger version of me. I felt a wave of disgust and knew that I had rejected this little girl. Though I would never say it to any other little girl, I wanted to call this one trash, worthless, hateful. And I wanted to forget.

"Child."

Please don't see me. 

"I was there. I am here."
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She stood at her bedroom window and stared at the grey clouds outside. She was so angry she could hardly contain it within her skin. She pounded a small fist on the dresser.

If You really exist, You need to prove it right now or I WON'T believe in You.
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"Child, I was there."

Even though I have tried to abandon the child that I was, God has refused to abandon me. Even the most vulnerable parts of me that I locked deep in that room inside my heart.
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This is wrecking me.
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He is taking me on a journey in this season, one that I have kicked and screamed and fought against.

He is showing me how to unlock that door and invite the child He created to come out into the sunlight again. As painful as this is, I find myself feeling and experiences angles of life that I haven't in a very long time. I find myself packing up my camp in the land of denial so that I can stake my tent in the land of those who are truly living with their whole heart.

I cannot undo the trauma and the choices that carried me far away from that little girl. I will forever bear the scars of humanity and an understanding of evil that was not in my original blueprint. But someone else chose to share scars with me so that I can experience healing.

And He was there when mine were formed. 

He is the only one who can say to the little girl who once trusted so easily, without fear,

"come out, come closer
it's ok to trust again
but you need to let Me keep you safe
and you need to let Me carry the pain
instead of pretending it away
the tenderness of your heart is not wrong
it is a piece of My own
so laugh, dance, grieve
and if you must, be afraid
but do not run back into the room to hide
for you belong in My arms, child."

It's exactly what she needs to hear.

So, I'm awkwardly, sorta, (and sometimes not) doing this state of being called "vulnerability."

It's looking Him in the eyes and allowing a chink in the armor of my heart. It is bringing all of myself to the table to sit down and talk. It is a choice to trust. To be exposed. And to risk the look on His face and the tone in His voice when He sees me.

Really sees me. 

And then, I suppose, I might be able to let you see me too.

forgotten(?).

The room was crowded. 

The air was thick with emotion and enthusiasm, and it seemed like everyone was enjoying connection.

"What's wrong with me?" played like a broken tape in my mind over and over again. 

Moving to a new place with new people is hard. If you've done it before, you know what I'm talking about. The past few months since I made the move to Central Oregon have been hard. Harder than I thought they would be. And I don't like to admit that because I take pride in having my life figured out (you can laugh). 

In the chaos of a new job, new housing, new people, and new heartache, I have rediscovered some old acquaintances. 

This committee of acquaintances has been tucked away in the shadows of my heart waiting for an opportune time to reappear. 

See, when my life is somewhat comfortable, they see no need for intervention. But now, in this season of discomfort, they have emerged to do their job once again. 

Their job?

To keep me safe.

(Well, that's what they think).

In reality, their job is to remind me of my every weakness, vulnerability, insecurity, and... a few other things that have no relevant connection to reality. 

Why? So that I will keep those sensitive items safely tucked away, out of view. 

It's scary to be known. 

And I find myself in a season of becoming known by people who have not known me. At work, at church, at home, in therapy...

Don't say that!

Don't do that! 

You shouldn't have...

You should have....

Nobody cares!

Nobody wants you around!

Nobody knows the real you

...and nobody wants to. 

My committee is loud these days.

It's not the first time I've hiked with them in my backpack...but it's first time I've hiked this mountain...and I think they shredded my map.

See, all they know how to do is help me hide. Hide from pain, hide from fear, hide from awkwardness, hide from hope, hide, hide, hide. I have learned how to hide my entire life. 

Hiding comes easily, it's learning how to un-hide that's the tricky part. 

And why, "un-hide?" Because when the committee is in charge and the sensitive places of my heart are safely tucked away, I find myself face to face with another danger: Loneliness. And Loneliness has its own tapes playing on repeat...

"You are FORGOTTEN. Nobody knows you exist. Nobody sees you. Nobody sees your heart, Your needs, Your joy...Your pain."

It's what the Enemy of my soul has spoken over me since a very young age. As a pastor's daughter, I internalized the message that everybody else's needs mattered at the expense of my own. That everybody else could struggle and get help, but I could not. That everybody else could need prayer, compassion, and love, but I could not. Because surely God would fall off His throne if I couldn't meet my own needs. It hurts to feel forgotten, overlooked, unimportant. And I'm finding the of being forgotten is worse than the pain that comes with being known. It's just not a worthy exchange. 

I know this, but because it is a familiar theme song, sometimes I catch myself humming to it totally unaware. 

"God, I feel so forgotten. So alone. So unseen."

I have been blessed to have incredible community in my life during the past several years. People that I can be radically honest with and find safety, comfort, and accountability. Now those are long distance relationships... and seeking safety, comfort, and accountability feel like swimming upstream with a crew of hungry bears around. 

While I am not forgotten by people who love me, my emotions are still singing the "Forgotten Theme Song" loudly and off key. 

I realized recently that feeling forgotten was not just about other people: I felt forgotten by God. 

Where was He when the job was harder than I expected? 

Where was He when the relationship went south? 

Where was He when the housing situation fell apart? 

Where was He when my ability to cope got up and left the room? 

Loneliness has an answer: Surely He forgot about you. That's what always happens, isn't it? You are always forgotten. 

The committee chimes in: That's what you deserve anyway! You aren't worth remembering!

And as I call out for another answer from my Abba, it is strangely quiet. No rebuttal to throw at my committee. No breakthrough word of comfort and assurance. It's just Quiet.

And that is how it has been. I am quiet, and He is quiet. But this Quiet is not stagnant, this is a powerful quiet.

In this Quiet, this is what I hear:

 "What do you know to be true? Stay there. Don't move. Don't speak. Be quiet." 

And I hear it over, and over, and over again. 

And it's NOT the word I wanted, but it's the word I need. 

To choose what I know to be true when my committee is suggesting alternative options takes more courage than I can muster. So I stay. I'm quiet. I wait. I dig in my heels and I camp here until God strengthens my arms for the battle. Instead of listening to the logic of Loneliness, I choose to quietly ask the questions: 

"Am I overlooked?"

"Am I unimportant?"

"Am I forgotten?"

Because I already know the answers to those questions. I already know. And I have a choice. While my committee would love for me to lay down and put on my headphones and listen to their tapes play over and over again, I have been given authority to say to my committee, "Thank you very much, I won't be needing your input on this one." I can choose to sit in the quiet with Jesus and allow Him to speak to my needs on His terms and in His time.

I'm learning in this season that with God, trust matters most when trust feels most difficult. 

And I realized that if I can only trust God when His presence is obvious to me, He is not the one with the forgetting problem, I am. 

He becomes forgotten by me when I choose not to trust in the Quiet and allow other voices to speak into me. 

"Am I forgotten?" 

I can ask my committee. I can ask my Loneliness. I can ask my pain. Or, I can ask Him. 

Even when my job, my housing, my people, and my emotions change, His answer to that question never, ever does. 

"Where shall I go from your Spirit?

    Or where shall I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there!

    If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!

If I take the wings of the morning

    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

even there your hand shall lead me,

    and your right hand shall hold me.

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,

    and the light about me be night,”

even the darkness is not dark to you;

    the night is bright as the day,

    for darkness is as light with you."

Psalm 139:6-12

forward.

“Forward” You said

Though I was all out of breath

My heart beating fast

My appearance a mess

“Forward” You said

And I fell into line

Excitement ‘round the Bend

Firmly fixed in my mind

“Forward” I went

Pleased to go on my way

Til I rounded the curve

And the path gave way

“Backwards” I fell

Down the mountain I’d climbed

Confusion, resentment, failure

Caught me in time

Where were You?

When that path gave way?

Had you known all along?

Why didn’t you say?

“Forward” You said

And I had trusted You

Not knowing the path

Or what I was to do

“Backwards” I fell

Now I’m confused

Did I hear you wrong?

Should I have doubted you?

Now in the “backwards” I rest

Unable to move

All I want is Your warmth

But I can’t find you

Then a voice from behind

Carrying strength through the fray

“Forward” it says

“I’ll show you the way”

And I knew it was You

From the song in the phrase

But I dug in my heels

And told You, “I’ll stay”

“See, 'Forward,' I went

And found Vulnerable, and Lost

I find it safer in 'Backwards'

No change, and no cost”

“Backwards,” I said

“I understand well

From the swamps to pits

To the rock-slid paths

Forward is scary

Uncontrolled, undefined

Full of pain and despair

Unknown, unanalyzed”

“No thanks” I said

With a gleam in my eye

“You can say what you will,

I’ve made up my mind”

“Forward” You said quietly

As if not hearing my choice

And you picked up my boots

And my pack and my hat

“Forward” You went

Carrying all of my things

And I sat there stunned

Wanting to fume or to laugh

All alone, all at once

I cried out in despair

“I cannot go on!

I won’t make it up there!”

Then I looked about Backwards

And realized I knew

That I’d rather not stay

If it meant losing You

So, I gathered myself

And I dusted my nerves

Ditched my pride (and my beanie)

And began again “Forward”

And then there You were

As though you never had left

With a sparkle in Your eyes

And a spring in Your step

“Forward” You said

Though I wanted to hear more

But, you pointed out the path

As if to say You were sure

And maybe someday 

You'll explain the rest

Like why the path gave way

And we couldn't go back

But for now, I choose to trust

To listen for Your voice

That your "Forward" is better

Than the "Backward" of my choice

 So “Forward” I’ll go

Though I’m scared and confused

And I’ll round the next Bend

Holding tight to You

taste.

I took a sip and tilted my head back.

The flavors of bitter and sweet lingered on my tongue with stunning complexity

I was flooded with sensations of vibrant joy mingled with the sharpness of grief

Powerful currents in a torrent racing the full spectrum of emotion

My chest tightens and expands

I make the conscious choice to open the windows of my heart

To freefall

To feel

To fully experience the colors of my life requires that I release control

I find it impossible to embrace the rawness of joy without these pangs of sorrow

This is the reality I am learning to savor

To both laugh and cry freely

To feel the refreshment of peace and the intensity of anger

To hold them gently in my hand like the fine crystal glass I am sipping

There will always be things to celebrate and things to mourn

I want to run from celebration because I fear the mourning

But hiding from joy has never chased away sorrow

And running from grief has only kept joy at arm’s length

I choose to taste the richest tones of my life, both bitter and the sweet

To pause in awe of a sunrise or a mountain range

Or the worn lines of age etched in the faces of generations before me

To throw my head back and laugh

To feel the grass between my toes

To sip my coffee slowly and sprint the mile

To feel warm sunlight on my skin and cool rain splash on my head

To allow the reality of new life and the reality of death to both rock me to my core

To be hospitable to the imperfections of myself and others

All the while holding onto hope for something better

To press into the discomfort of labor and breathe in the relief of rest

To choose to engage in both

To taste the full-bodied complexity of life for what it is

Not my fantasy of pristine safety and black and white security

All the while knowing and accepting that tomorrow holds the unknown

Blended torrents of joy and pain

I want to inhale the aromas and feel the textures and taste the fullness

For this is a wonderful, difficult, joyous, painful, and breathtaking life

I refuse to survive in a state of numbness and self-protection

For my terror of the depths of my heart is matched only by my determination to live

To truly live

the lion.

I've heard that survivors of natural disasters say the event changed them forever. That they will never see life the same way again. That they cannot go back to the way things were before _________ happened.

How could you after experiencing something so incredible? So uncontrollable - So devastatingly powerful?

You would never be the same, right?

I've been pondering the idea that when some things happen to you, you're impacted forever.

Marriage, abuse, childbirth, loss of a loved one, intimate friendships/relationships, a chronic illness or serious injury, financial hardship, wealth, a long distance move, and the list goes on.

It's almost as if we are continually shaped and imprinted by the things we are exposed to. The significant things we experience, good or bad, change us...

Ha.

Maybe it's called growing up and I'm just now figuring it out.

But hold on, with all this shapeshifting going on, who's to determine whether I will be one person today and another entirely tomorrow, if and when a significant change comes into my life?

There has to be something significant working within the varied shaping and imprinting of these life events. Something that is trustworthy, consistent, and powerful enough to wield results in the journey and hold me together until I reach my destination.

This year has been one full of "shaping."

In January, before I had a chance to initiate the 2018 bucket list - (or create the bucket list) - my physical health jumped ship.

For those who know me...I have a thing about being able to have a healthy and functioning body, on my terms and in my own way. I need to be able to do what I need to do without being limited by physical weakness, and I need to be strong and fit while doing it all. Questions? Good. I thought it was simple enough.

I didn't anticipate the flu.

I didn't anticipate the car accident.

I didn't anticipate the longer-than-normal recovery.

I didn't anticipate mystery symptoms and internal medical issues surfacing immediately after the longer-than-normal recovery.

I didn't ask for any of this and I don't want it. 

Having one of my pillars (physical health) shaken this year has given me a dose of grim reality that I didn't have before. See, I thought I could just power through...I thought I could bend my body to my will and force it beyond limits. I thought I just needed a few days to "sleep it off" and I'd be back in my jogging shoes. But that hasn't been my reality.

My reality has been limits that I don't like.

And it's shaped me.

Shaped my expectations, my emotions, my brain function (concussions do that I guess), my body, and my relationship with my Heavenly Father.

I believe God is good. But so much of my interactions with Him this year have been...well, to be honest...
Less than "warm and fuzzy."

I have seen God make life easier for me in the past. I have seen Him open doors and shower unexplainable over-the-top feel good gifts on me. I've had seasons where things just went right. I like those.

I like being a Daddy's girl and just enjoying His affection.

That was harder this year.

Because when I don't feel good physically, I don't feel good in the other areas. Can someone relate?

It's frustrating to try to read the Bible and journal when the pages make one dizzy and nauseated. (There's not a way to paint that with a pretty spiritual brush at 6:30am).

When you feel physically, emotionally, and mentally disconnected, how do you "feel" connected to God?

I want to be real, genuine, authentic, etc... with my Savior. But what if I am authentically just shut down and discouraged? Can he handle that? (Yes. The answer is yes).

My relationship with God waltzed into uncharted territory this year. I didn't anticipate what I experienced from His hand. I didn't anticipate what He allowed. Nor did I anticipate patient silence instead of soothing answers when I poured out my complaints.

"Umm... God. Excuse me. Please, are you there? We've talked about this. I need my health. I need my body to function. I need to go to work. I need to go to the gym. I need my brain...I need to feel something warm and fuzzy from YOU!!!"

I encountered a God I wasn't used to.
The God who says no.
The God whose priorities are there opposite of mine.
The God who doesn't sway His person because my person is having a personal crisis.

My favorite fictional series has always been the Chronicles of Narnia. (If you are not familiar, I highly recommend it).
This past year I've thought often of a quote from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, where the children are hearing about Aslan, the King, for the first time from one of the local Narnians.

It's all well and good until they put two and two together and realize that Aslan is a TALKING LION - not a human.

The obvious question is blurted out:

Is He safe?

To which comes the reply that has been ringing in my mind as of late:

"Safe? ...Who said anything about safe? Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

Picturing myself as one of those shocked and nervous Pevensie children is about the best way I can think of to describe my interactions with God this year.

"Who said anything about safe?"

I've been forced in many uncomfortable ways to re-examine my expectations about God and how He chooses to care for His children.

At the risk of sounding incredibly callous and pessimistic... I'd like to share something:

God is Not safe the way that you think He is safe.

We typically think of safety as something that is physically tangible and/or comfortable. Neither of those things are promised in Scripture by God. 

He has promised to be with you, and He has promised to be faithful, and He has promised to keep your soul safe through all eternity because you belong to Him.

But through the lens of this physical, tangible world, God is not safe. If you are counting on some sort of a promise that you will never experience physical damage or trial because of Him in your life, you're going to be severely shaken. He actually promises that those "unsafe" things will come.

Now, I know that for many of you this is not new information. It's not new information for me either. People go through tough things, that's normal. What's new for me, is being scary vulnerable with a God who allows it. I'm choosing to entrust my heart to Him, knowing that He knows full well the hard things that have come and will come.

There's something about that that sounds incredibly beautiful, but is incredibly painful and difficult, especially for someone who has experienced betrayal in the past.

To surrender yourself to a God who is so big and so powerful, and yet chooses to stand beside you, to hold you, to wait with you, instead of taking action to prevent the damage when you are suffering.

 That's painful. 

Especially when you have surrendered your heart and chosen to love and be loved by this God.

"Course He isn't safe. But He's good..."

I thought that I had God safely contained in a box. That in His incredible goodness, I understood what He would and would not do and how He would do it. That I could predict Him and trust Him in our relationship, because I really already knew how He was going to act.

I'm not really talking about circumstances either, friends. I'm talking about my relationship with the Creator of the universe. Even when circumstances went haywire I thought that I would be ok, if I had Him. The only problem was that I didn't "have Him" the way that I anticipated. He didn't show up the same way He had in the past. He didn't say that same things or use the same tone like I expected. He wasn't the image I had in my head.

He is good. But He is not safe.

He has not been controllable, tamable, or complying to meet my felt needs.

Now, I would like to be clear that God has not and does not and will not change. What I'm describing is not His spastic personality, but the fact that I had limited Him to a much smaller, tamer version than He is. And, well, my perspective has changed. I know Him in a way I did not before. That sounds lovely, but in reality it's a gritty, difficult, raw, and painful knowing season.

This has been my season of getting to know the Lion. 

"...But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

While this had been a difficult season of getting to know God, there has been a rock solid truth emerging that increases my hope and peace exponentially.

See, we need a Lion for a King.

If we dumb God down to a friendly Grandpa in the sky, He is ill-equipped to handle the ugliness of this world. We actually need a ferocious King who's strength overcomes when darkness attacks.

He is the only thing big enough to shape, to steady, to transform, through the imprinting and shifting of this life. Circumstances will change. I will change. But as long as He alone (not my false expectations) is the source of my hope, there is a steady thread of transformation through every season and life event. He is the common denominator. And because He is the Lion, I want Him to be the one thing working within the varied shaping and imprinting of these life events. Something that is trustworthy, consistent, and powerful enough to wield results in the journey and hold me together until I reach my destination.

I need Him to be for me all that He is and not all that I perceive Him to be. For it is not the image in my head that my soul cries out for, but the living God Himself - untamable, unchangeable, unshakeable. 

I need the Lion.

When He is not what I desire Him to be.
When He does not move the way I wish.
When He withholds the quick fix or the easy out. When He allows the tears to fall.
When He doesn't provide the sign or the opportunity or open the door.

What will I think of Him then? Will I praise Him still? Will I still give Him open access to my heart? Or will the walls go up, afraid to ask, to trust and be disappointed?

This is vulnerability. 

This is what He asks of me.

"Safe? ...Who said anything about safe? Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

rubber & asphalt

I think I need one of those sweatshirts that says,

"I'm sorry, I wasn't ignoring you,

I just got lost in the maze of my mind for a sec."

See, I like to think. A lot.
I'm in my head. A lot.

I enjoy figuring things out, analyzing, problem solving, predicting, calculating, planning, and trying to perfect strategies. It's like a hobby. Kind of.

It can, at times, be disappointing, when I have solved my personal issues, mended humanity's pain, and created world peace while sitting in traffic for 30 minutes....only to arrive at my destination and realize that it only happened in my mind.

Being someone who enjoys (or at least feels compelled) to mental gymnastics, I love the exhilaration that comes when I get that "light bulb" moment. There's something about figuring out a problem or issue that I've been wrestling with that just feels SO good!

Learning a lesson or solution or truth that I desperately need is satisfying and liberating and wonderful!

God knows this about me. In fact, I think He's the one that gave me the "figurer-outer" part of my brain, and it can be a really cool gift! (this blog probably exists because of it)

But there is a downside to that *ahem* gift, that I've been encountering lately. In fact, it might be the theme of my year so far. Are you ready?

Just because I have figured something out does not mean that I can do it perfectly.

I know.

It's been shocking to me too.

I have this tendency to "learn" something and then check it off my list. My brain figured it out, so obviously, we're done and don't need to linger on it any longer. Right?

In case you're wondering, this might work in the field of mathematics, but it doesn't work in the life growth journey thing.

There's this funny contradiction where I find myself in a place where I know I've already learned the lesson, I already know the truth, I've already been around this mountain a hundred times, and I'm still doing it wrong!

In that place, my brain can calculate FAILURE and start packing up the show faster than I can return to the truth (that I already learned) that I don't have to do it perfectly.

This is an exhausting cycle.

I write about it not because I enjoy flaunting my peculiarities, but because I have a hunch that someone can relate to this, and like me, you need a reminder of the truth.

See, God has been teaching me something really freeing.
(You'll notice I have NOT checked the "learned" box yet).

It has to do with the phrase, "the rubber hits the road."

It's that saying that means that the thing you learned a long time ago is about to be tested in real life and you need it to hold up. And, well, let's just say it's been on my mind because I've had lots of opportunities to practice said concept.

In the past, I've placed the emphasis of that saying on the word rubber, as in, the strength and structure of the tires. But God, in His wonderful wisdom and humor, has been shifting my perspective.

See, if I move the emphasis from the word rubber, to the word road, it shifts the tone.

Hang with me. Here's what I mean:

A few seconds ago I wrote:
"It's that saying that means that the thing you learned a long time ago is about to be tested in real life and you need it to hold up."

Now, when I wrote that, my brain emphasized it like this: "It's that saying that means that the thing you learned a long time ago is about to be tested in real life and you need it to hold up."

Where's the emphasis?
"It's on that thing you [should have] [already] [expertly] learned a long time ago.."

With me so far?

Ok, now try it like this:
 "It's that saying that means that the thing you learned a long time ago is about to be tested in real life and you need it to hold up."

Where's the emphasis?
"(the thing you learned) is about to be [stretched] [taxed] [pressured] tested in real [new] [unfamiliar] life and [human] [vulnerable] you need it to hold up [support] [help] [assist] [save]."

 Do you see what I mean?

My tendency is to emphasis my own ability to struggle through something and gain mastery. But that's just not life. That's a lie. My victory has only ever been won by Christ.

So those lessons that I have learned, figured out, and problem solved? They weren't mine in the first place. God gave them to me. And just like He gave them in the first place, He will be faithful to incorporate them into my being as I am transformed into the image of Christ.

The rubber is, and will continue to be in the testing & perfecting stage this side of Heaven. This means that there may be a lot of pit stops along the highway. That's ok. The emphasis is not on performance for a few miles, but on endurance in the journey.

The road is long and ever changing. I will never be in the same place twice, nor will I be the same person around ever bend. This means that the terrain will ever be unfamiliar, and ever be a test for the rubber.

Let me just speak some life for a second to anyone who is struggling for what seems like the umpteenth time with the "same" thing:

-You're not alone! You're actually a part of quite a large group of travelers who feel exhausted and discouraged by the journey at times. There is nothing wrong with you. The disconnect between knowledge and behavior isn't unique to you. You're quite human and that's ok.

-You've never been here before. This is a new stretch of road. I don't care how similar your circumstances or struggles seem to be, you are not the same person you were 3 years ago, or 30 years ago. What you are facing now is new and challenging. You may have learned how to win the last battle, but this one might require additional or different strategies because it's on a different battlefield. Be open to that.

- Be gentle with yourself. Give yourself permission to keep learning and never "check the box." Life is about a journey and a bigger picture. Your idea of "successful victory" might not be realistic, or even what God has in mind. Be kind to yourself when you fall short of your expectations. Besides, I've actually never been able to get up faster by kicking myself while I'm down, and I have a hunch you won't either.

 

The hilarious thing about this blog post, is that these are truths that God has been teaching me for a very long time, and yet I still blunder the practice of them often. So I need the reminder constantly myself! Ironic, huh?

My challenge to you is to ask yourself three questions:

1) what lessons or truths are being tested in my present circumstances?
2) how are my present circumstances different from past circumstances?
and finally,
3) how are the lessons and truths being tested differently in my present circumstances than they have been before?

I promise, if you grab a pen and paper and give yourself adequate time to invite God's input, you won't come up empty...And you might even come away encouraged!

After all, you're miles beyond where you were last time.

 

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ."
- Philippians 1:6

 

"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.  And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit."

- 2 Corinthians 3:17-18

 

"For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified."
- Hebrews 10:14

 

"Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen."

-Hebrews 13:20-21

 

room for one (control).

I have a question.

It's been churning in the inner recesses of my heart during the past several months.

What am I supposed to do when I realize that life isn't turning out the way that I thought it would? ...Hoped it would? Planned it would? 

Well, typically a little voice stands up inside and introduces itself as my BFF and lays out the strategy to fix the chaotic situation.

I have a name for this little voice, though it usually takes me a while to recognize it.

See, Control and I are old friends.

Control has comforted me when my world was spinning. Control has given me a to do list when I felt helpless to do anything. Control has fed my self confidence when I felt like a failure. Control has distracted me from deep pain and real danger. Control has blindfolded me to reality, per my invitation.

Yes, Control is an old friend.

The problem is,

Control is a liar. 

Control makes promises that it can't keep, and then blames me for coming up empty handed. Control demands too much of me, all the while chanting that I will fail. Control only consoles me when I refuse to feel pain. Control is far more concerned with protecting itself, than protecting me.

By the time I realize the familiar betrayal, I'm usually sitting in the rubble of my heart, desperately wishing I could undo the consequences.

I'm reminded again that there is only room for One King of my heart. 

There's a King who comforts me when my world is spinning, even if I'm the one who tipped the globe. This King lifts the to-do list from my shoulders and calls me to rest my head on His. This King fills my desperate need for identity and unconditional love, regardless of my failure. This King deals with my deep pain and real danger, head on. This King does not shield me from reality, He meets me in the middle of it.

For a control freak, facing reality head on can be excruciating.

Why? Why is it so hard to open up my hands and let Him be the King? After all, He is a good King. He is much kinder than Control. His expectations are perfect, His demands are not burdensome, and He actually mends and heals my heart instead of ignoring the wounds. Why would it be so hard for me give up Control and let the real King rule?

What holds me back? I'm not entirely sure.

But, I do think that it has to do with Control's neighbor:

Fear

I personally think that Fear is Control's personal trainer.

Fear tells Control that no one will love the real me.

Fear tells Control that the pain will kill me.

Fear tells Control that there is no other option. 

Fear tells Control that I'm all alone. 

Fear tells Control that I will lose everything. 

Fear tells Control that no matter what, I cannot LET GO. 

Why? Well, because Fear is afraid. It just can't help itself. 

Fear isn't such bad company to have around, except when Fear starts bossing around Control. That's when I get in trouble. 

See, the only One who should be allowed to boss around Control in my heart is Jesus. Otherwise this whole parade of abundant life comes to a screeching halt. 

Welcome to my messy heart. 

In the rubble, I have made a discovery:

Control doesn't permit an imperfect reality, because Fear is afraid the reality will slay me. 

I tip my hat to them both, because in a way, they're right. 

I am weak, helpless, fragile, vulnerable, wounded, flawed...I mean, c'mon, what chance do I have in a world of harsh reality??? To have even the hint of a pure and tender heart, that is open to love and be loved, would be to invite destruction.

What other choice do I have, but to cling to Control and cave to Fear?

Most of us have a default setting when the pressure builds. Fear and Control are my default settings...I don't know what yours are. But I've noticed that most human defaults sound something like this: "I've got this, God! I don't need You to step in, thanks!" 

But God never asked us to pull it together and brave it alone...in fact, there's a name for that and it starts with the letter P-R-I-D-E. Actually, like most of the things He asks of us, His command is counter-intuitive. 

It's faith. 

He calls me to trust Him, when it's the last thing I want to do. 

"I know what I'm doing, Joanna."

"But nothing about this feels OK! This isn't what I wanted! You're doing it wrong!"

I can't change my reality, I can only respond to it. (And for the record, control and denial are NOT legitimate responses.) I've worn myself ragged trying to do both simultaneously. True to form, that's landed me no where good. It's only when I stop kicking and screaming about it that I can embark on a journey to accept it...and then move through it to the other side. 

"I miss You."

It was as if I woke up suddenly and realized I had fallen asleep in the wrong home. I looked around, and my heart broke. Not sure when or how I ended up here, all I knew is I wanted out. This was all too familiar. I was curled up in the fetal position, Fear held me tight while Control paced by the door.

"I miss You."

What am I supposed to do when I realize that life isn't turning out the way that I thought it would? Hoped it would? Planned it would? 

"Look at Me."

It's not what I expected to hear. It's not what I would have prescribed. But it was exactly what this messy heart needed to hear.

"You can't see what I see, so instead of looking at the storm, I want you to Look at Me."

I can choose to tighten my grip, or, I can open my hands and release my ideal. 

I have to decide what I want more than anything else. I have to decide if my desire for Control is worth missing out on the beauty of sweet friendship with my Savior. I have to choose who will Captain my soul when the waves get choppy. 

I have to decide what matters most to me..and today, I choose Him. 

Open my hands, Abba. 

Take the Control; Speak to my Fear. 

I want You.

After all, there is only room for One King in my heart. 

"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together."

-Colossians 1:15-17

"Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.”

-John 6:68-67

"He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

-Matthew 14:29-31

"I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come. And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all."

-Ephesians 1:16-23