I blew it today. I lost my temper, had little patience, was irritable; I was surly, disagreeable, and eventually was headed right back down the path which I have been fighting so hard to turn from. I found myself in the floor of the bedroom crying, crying. I don't even know why, in the end. I was frustrated with how the day had turned out (ironically I feel like I got a lot done around here), I was angry with myself for yelling at Michaela when she didn't deserve it (that time).
And I was sad. I was sad that here I was again, in that same place of self-condemnation, anger, and despair.
Mike called me on it. The kids were looking for me, they wanted their friends next door to come over and had been working on cleaning their rooms (well, Michaela had been; Christian had played a lot more than cleaned, and I had picked up his floor...grrrr). Mike asked me what I was doing. I wanted to yell at him to go away and leave me alone, but I talked to him instead. Don't congratulate me; I'm sure I was less than pleasant. I got up and I think I went to start dinner. I did apologize at some point. I never really felt better though.
I still feel cruddy. It's stupid. In addition to all of the emotions, I have a huge red spot on the top of my nose, my mustache is in full force, my allergies are raging, and I got a sunburn today.
How in the world does a 36-year-old who knows better get a sunburn?! Just a ring around my neck. Redder on one side than the other, since the sun was a bit to the west.
As I sat on the floor I thought about what I had written yesterday, about hope. I was mad at it. Then I was grateful for it. I know that depression isn't something that just goes away and never comes back. I suppose it could, because we all know that anything can happen. But it's not very likely. There will be ups and downs. I need to remember that, for everyone's sake.
Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm glad of that. I need a Sunday. I'm going to worship. I think I'll start now.
I was thinking today about the sadness in the world.
Mike and I found out about this one family's story just yesterday; a little boy, eleven years old, is dying of cancer. After an MRI confirmed some of their worries, the parents had to tell their son that there would be no more chemo or any other treatments. He has months to live.
Not too long ago someone shared a prayer request in our Sunday School class about someone he worked with; the previous Thursday night this woman's daughter wasn't feeling well. She went to bed, and never woke up. She was five.
There are so many people who are battling cancer and other diseases. Accidents leave individuals and families changed forever. Instead of running carpools and giving baths they are grieving losses of one kind or another. People are still sold, bought, and abused; this happens to adults and children alike. We witness, as though watching the cruelest of reality shows, natural disasters take homes and vehicles and place them on top of other buildings or wash them out to sea. Do we think about the people who are likely in those waves, below that water, amidst swirling debris and wreckage? It's one thing to watch material possessions get destroyed by storms or earthquakes, but quite another to watch as human beings are dying. I remember thinking that same thing as we watched the attacks on September 11, 2001. This was no movie. There were no special effects or stunt doubles. It was real life. Real suffering and dying and heartache and gut-wrenching sacrifice.
All of these things played through my mind and I thought,"What do people have to hold on to if this is it?" There is nothing. There is nothing in this world that is solid, firm, dependable, unshakeable, indestructible. There is nothing that belongs to this creation that will last once this world, this universe has expired. There is no one alive on this planet who can claim never to perish. Surely each one of us will breathe a final breath. Surely there will come a time when we consider all of our days here on earth in a flash, and with joy, sorrow, satisfaction, and regret we will remember life; we will know that the time has come for that story that we have been telling with our living to see its final period. Or exclamation mark, depending on the one telling the story, living the life!
But there is something else. There is one who is solid, firm, dependable, unshakeable, indestructible. There is one who was before this world was created and who will be long after it is gone. There is one who can claim immortality, and what is more, eternality.
I can't say that I don't have fears. I can't say that I have arrived at that point in my faith at which I can look death in the face and cry,"I'm not afraid of you!" I think I can quietly confess that I am not afraid to die in the sense that I believe that after I close my eyes for the last time, think my last thought, feel the last beat of my heart, I will be with the Lord God my Creator and Savior right then. But when I think about scary situations or when my mind gets caught up in one of my irrational scenarios, my heart starts pounding, and I get tense, and I feel afraid. At the same time I can tell myself that I have nothing to fear in the end. And what is better is that these aren't just words that I can try to comfort myself with...but instead I have real, substantial hope. Just as certainly as I will face death, my own and probably that of at least some of the ones I love, I certainly have hope because Christ conquered death. He conquered the very thing which brings me such anxiety and distress.
Hope is the true balm, the only salve for our sorrows. Again, if all we have to hold onto is here, the things that are before us, the people that surround us, then sorrow is sure to swallow us up. But if indeed Christ was raised from the dead, then we can believe that the promise that we also will be raised from the dead is sure. And if we will be raised from the dead then we can say with confidence,"Death, I am not afraid of you!" Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians (15:54,55) tells them,"'Death has been swallowed up in victory!'" and reminds them of what the prophets said,"'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?'"
When I look at the anguished faces in the pictures that I see from Japan, or when I think of the family telling their young son that there is nothing else the doctors can do for him, or imagine any of the other tragic, heartbreaking scenarios that take place all the time all around the world, I get overwhelmed by emotions, and feel desperate. There is only one place to go when those feelings come, there is only one place to go when confronted with those images. There is only one place to go for the people in those images. The throne of the risen Lord is where we will find comfort. His promises are what we have to help us through the valley of the shadow of death. The hope that we have that this is not all there is is his salve for us as we suffer, as we face trials and experience grief. We have something more to hold onto, something more to look forward to, something more to offer others.
Today I replayed in my mind a video we watched in our worship service one Sunday. You may be familiar with it (there are many versions on youtube) - "That's My King...Do You Know Him?" It is a sermon by Reverend Dr. S.M. Lockridge and it makes me want to stand up and shout.
What he said.
I am so grateful that I know him. Knowing him has given me hope. That is the only comfort for my sorrows. And yours.
This is going to come as quite a shock but my laundry had reached gargantuan proportions just recently. I'm not sure how it happened but I had basket after basket after basket after basket (no, really, three of the square baskets and one big rectangular one) of piled-two-feet-up-the-wall dirty laundry (so that would probably actually equal eight baskets) once I gathered all of the discarded clothes around the house and put them back in the laundry room.
I am finally seeing the light at the end of the laundry tunnel, y'all.
Dudes. That was a long tunnel. A long, long, long tunnel.
Tonight as I was trying to get Eliana to sleep Michaela came in and asked if she could start a load. I told her to go ahead and do the light colored towels. She was giddy with excitement at the anticipation of doing laundry (boy, does she have some fun to look forward to, eh?).
Later, when I went in my room to take out my contacts I noticed a couple of little piles on my bed.
I realized that this is the load that was in the dryer when she added things to the washing machine. Not only did she take them out of the dryer, but she folded them! It was such a nice and unexpected sight. A little blessing at the end of my day.
I was thinking the other day about an old friend of mine who has a lot of troubles and been through some really rough things. Our lives look really different, but on the inside we are not that different. I was listening to a song on the radio, and now I can't quite remember which one it was, but the line that I heard, along with my thoughts about this friend led to a thought.
All of a sudden I thought,"Because of what Christ did, it's as if I had never done anything wrong, in God's eyes." It sounds like a crazy, bold, outrageous thing to say, but I think that it might be right. What do you think?
(I am not trying to say we don't or haven't ever sinned...but regarding how we stand before God, we are righteous. His righteousness for our stains.)
2 Corinthians 5:21
God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
Saturday, April 2, 2011 at 10:33PM 