Lectionary, 10/24/15: Curiousity inspires Trust

 Psalm 42

1 As a deer pants for flowing streams,
    so pants my soul for you, O God.
² My soul thirsts for God,
    for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?^[b]
3 My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
    “Where is your God?”
⁴ These things I remember,
    as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng
    and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,
    a multitude keeping festival.

⁵ Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
    my salvation^{[c] 6} and my God.

My soul is cast down within me;
    therefore I remember you
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
    from Mount Mizar.
⁷ Deep calls to deep
    at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
    have gone over me.
⁸ By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
    and at night his song is with me,
    a prayer to the God of my life.
⁹ I say to God, my rock:
    “Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
    because of the oppression of the enemy?”
¹⁰ As with a deadly wound in my bones,
    my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me all the day long,
    “Where is your God?”

¹¹ Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
    my salvation and my God.

 _________________________________________________

This prayer, for it is indeed a prayer, is a personal favorite of mine. Today, perhaps for different reasons. This is how I know, deep down, that Scripture is living words from God. There will be plenty of reasons why we feel emotions; emotions so obvious here in this prayer. 

The wrestling. 

The struggle.

 The woundedness.

The grief. Grief that seems to overwhelm the pray-er of this prayer.

Yet, this pray-er likens himself to a deer.

Ok, really? A deer? 

Have you ever seen a deer in the wild?

One day, at a retreat center, in the middle of a suburb, I saw one.

She was standing in the middle of a wooded area. 

What drew her there perhaps?

The gently moving stream beneath the bridge upon which we stood?

She was thirsty?

She perhaps had come to drink. 

What struck me was the stillness. 

The solitude. 

The gentle presence of this creature.

There was no fanfare, no hooves sloshing about. 

She just appeared, quiet and still.

And she stood, looking at us for a long time. Similar to the picture above.

Then she was gone. As if she had just vanished. And though I continued to search for her in the small wooded area, she was gone as quickly as she had come.

I wonder if the reason why the pray-er of this prayer likened himself or herself to a deer for this reason.

There comes a point when the grief overwhelms us, when the struggling and wrestling just stops.

And there is stillness. Complete stillness.

I call it shut down. 

We are perhaps unable to pray.

Unable to eat. 
Unable to even shape the words in our minds, much less utter them.
We run out of ourselves.

The things of this world simply cannot fill the void.

A gaping hole, cut wide open.

And we at last call out to the One who can.

The questions in this prayer surprise me; the pray-er is curious, even. 
Curious enough about him or herself to ask the question--Why?

The question inspires trust, rather than our perhaps misplaced interpretation of the pray-ers desperation for God to fix the situation.  Rather the pray-er, I think, is getting curious about himself or herself.

Curiousity about our feelings, our stumblings and bumblings, our struggles is a great beginning.

Good digging, I think.

Digging: I struck fear.

I remember hearing my first counselor warn me. 

"When you change the dance, even if it's the right thing for you to do, others  are affected and get afraid. You're changing the dance."

She was talking about the cost of getting healthy. There is a cost. And it may seem really high, at first.

Here's a story from the book of Nehemiah: 

 Now when Sanballat and Tobiah and Geshem the Arab and the rest of our enemies heard that I had built the wall and that there was no breach left in it (although up to that time I had not set up the doors in the gates), 

Sanballat and Geshem sent to me, saying, “Come and let us meet together at Hakkephirim in the plain of Ono.” 

But they intended to do me harm.

And I sent messengers to them, saying, “I am doing a great work and I cannot come down. Why should the work stop while I leave it and come down to you?” 

And they sent to me four times in this way, and I answered them in the same manner. 

In the same way Sanballat for the fifth time sent his servant to me with an open letter in his hand. 

In it was written, “It is reported among the nations, and Geshem1 also says it, that you and the Jews intend to rebel; that is why you are building the wall. And according to these reports you wish to become their king. 

And you have also set up prophets to proclaim concerning you in Jerusalem, ‘There is a king in Judah.’ And now the king will hear of these reports. So now come and let us take counsel together.” 

Then I sent to him, saying, “No such things as you say have been done, for you are inventing them out of your own mind.” 

For they all wanted to frighten us, thinking, “Their hands will drop from the work, and it will not be done.” 

But now, O God,strengthen my hands.

Now when I went into the house of Shemaiah the son of Delaiah, son of Mehetabel, who was confined to his home, he said, “Let us meet together in the house of God, within the temple. Let us close the doors of the temple, for they are coming to kill you. They are coming to kill you by night.” 

But I said, “Should such a man as I run away? And what man such as I could go into the temple and live? I will not go in.” 

And I understood and saw that God had not sent him, but he had pronounced the prophecy against me because Tobiah and Sanballat had hired him. 

For this purpose he was hired, that I should be afraid and act in this way and sin, and so they could give me a bad name in order to taunt me. 

Remember Tobiah and Sanballat, O my God, according to these things that they did, and also the prophetess Noadiah and the rest of the prophets who wanted to make me afraid.

So the wall was finished on the twenty-fifth day of the month Elul, in fifty-two days. 

And when all our enemies heard of it, all the nations around us were afraid and fell greatly in their own esteem, for they perceived that this work had been accomplished with the help of our God. 

Moreover, in those days the nobles of Judah sent many letters to Tobiah, and Tobiah's letters came to them. 

For many in Judah were bound by oath to him, because he was the son-in-law of Shecaniah the son of Arah: and his son Jehohanan had taken the daughter of Meshullam the son of Berechiah as his wife. 

Also they spoke of his good deeds in my presence and reported my words to him. 

And Tobiah sent letters to make me afraid.  

 Nehemiah 6:1-19

___________________________________________________________________________

I remember hearing my first counselor warn me. 

"When you change the dance, even if it's the right thing for you to do, others  are affected and get afraid. You're changing the dance."

She was talking about the cost of getting healthy. There is a cost. And it may seem really high, at first.

You see relationships are like dancers. Each movement draws the other closer or further apart. Even minute changes to the dance upsets the balance.

Why change the dance at all then?

The dance may have been unhealthy. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. But the other person doesn't see it. When you start getting healthy, you see it clearly maybe for the first time. But the other person doesn't.

And they get scared. Fear produces a myriad of behaviors--not all alike either. Everyone deals with fear differently but our behavior reveals a lot about us, particularly when we are afraid.

Some of those behaviors include:

• Anger
• Blame
• Defensiveness 
• Justifying or rationalizing
• Demanding or High Expectations
• Feeling superior 
• Victimization or guilt
• Manipulation 

Just to name a few. 

This list is not a means to accuse others, or judge others. No, sorry.  

It is however a good way to identify these behaviors in ourselves, when we feel afraid. Change always has to start with us. 

So not fair. I get it. But it is what it is.

If you re-read the story above from Nehemiah, you will see several of those behaviors. But look at how Nehemiah handled it. That guy was super healthy.

Nehemiah saw it for what it was. Called it what is was. Held his boundaries on what he would do, or not do. And he kept on building anyway. 

Here's three ways I'm working on dealing with fear in my life:

• I can choose how I feel about being provoked to fear.
• I can be kind. And I can be firm.
• I can call out specific behavior designed to provoke fear. Not with an intent to change the other person, but with the intent to help myself NOT react negatively.

Fearful people want you fearful too. So they'll do just about anything to make you afraid with them. Scared people don't like to be scared alone.

Best response? Don't be provoked to fear. Yes, don't. Jesus says it often.  

Why? Because fear is a normal human emotion, and it exists to help us. But more often than not, fear is a huge hindrance.

But being provoked to fear has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with the person provoking it.  

So don't take the bait. That's all.

It is also the hardest thing to do ever, which is probably why Jesus reminded us so very often. 

Fear is completely paralyzing. But it can be overcome. 

Keep digging. Keep building. Keep trying. Keep studying. Keep dreaming. Keep moving. Keep looking for that job. Keep spending more and more time with your spouse or kids. Keep working on school or getting that promotion at work. Keep writing. Keep painting. Keep living the dream. Keep going. Just keep going. Keep at it.

Then suddenly you won't be as fearful anymore. You will actually begin to feel more compassion for others who may be struggling to "keep at it". Even when they frustrate you or hurt you. 

We are all human. We make mistakes. But people are watching how we respond.

Notice that the wall got built, and Nehemiah kept getting mean letters anyway. And people talking about him behind his back too. 

Nice.

Mean, fear producing letters happen. People will talk about people. It's all part of our human condition. 

But Jesus came to teach us that there is a better way. A way to be healthy and whole, in him, and through him. A way to be freed from fear; a way to find vibrant life. 

It may cost you something, at first. But trust me, the process is the best part to learning about love.

Keep digging.

Digging In: when we dig down, we find beauty

Digging: The Right Tools

My first dig was scary.  See that post from Friday.

I went in fairly blind to the dangers of digging deep into hardened soil. Fortunately, God so filled with grace had equipped me with years of tools.  Tools I had yet to fully understand or utilize.

Any good archaeologist would have the following:

Trowels: For archaeology, the trowel is probably the most iconic and most-often used tool. It is the same tool that masons use to apply mortar to brick walls, though in archaeology it is used to excavate in a unit when the space no longer allows for the use of a shovel.

Shovels: Shovels, either rounded or squared, are used as the primary excavating tool, most especially in units where very few or no features or artifacts are discovered. They are used because they allow for more soil to be moved in a shorter time, as opposed to only ever excavating with trowels.

Screens: Screens are used to sift the soil that comes from each unit in order to search for and better spot artifacts. Soil is poured into the screen from either a bucket or a shovel, then shaken back and forth to allow the lighter soil to fall through the screen mesh, while heavier artifacts will stay inside the screen box.

Handbrooms/Dustpans: Used while excavating a unit in order to more effeciently move the soil out. Handbrooms help to keep the "floor" of a unit clean, especially before a photograph is taken of it. Dustpans help to move soil out of the unit at a faster pace when archaeologists have begun only using their trowels.

Tape Measures: Tape measures are used to make sure that the size of the unit and the depth of each level are as exact as possible according to our field manual's regulations. They are also used when creating maps of units, as knowing the distance between artifacts or layers of soil will make the map much more accurate.

Line Levels/Plumb Bobs: Line levels and plumb bobs are primarily used in mapping features and excavation units. Line levels are attached to the strings that are used to outline the units and the diagonal string in order to be able to better measure the depth of each level and any artifacts that may be found. Plumb bobs are used in conjunction with the measuring tape while mapping in order to provide a precise location for any feature boundary or artifacts that may be in the walls or floor of a unit.

Cameras: Film and digital cameras are used at New Philadelphia in order to take official images of the floor and walls of each level of each excavation unit, artifacts, and occasionally candid shots of the crew.

Transit/Total Station: This equipment is used to create a map of the site, using GPS and spatial data which records exact locations and heights of specific points.

Soil Cores: A basic soil core is a small metal tube with a handle at the top that is used for probing specific areas in the soil in search of buried artifacts or features. Once a specific spot is marked for coring, the archaeolgist pushes the core into the ground using their body weight, then pulls it back out to inspect the soil within it.

Tongue Depressors/Dental Picks: These small tools allow for the removal of soil in very tight or small locations in a unit, or can be used to clean off larger or more sturdy artifacts.

From: http://www.histarch.illinois.edu/np/tools.html


So looking at this list, I found some good parallels worth mentioning. I mean the trowels and the shovels are obvious tools, but the one that struck me was the SOIL CORES.  Look at these words, "the archaeologist pushes the core into the ground use their body weight, then pulls it back OUT to inspect the soil within it".

Replace a couple of words and you've got my first visit with Janet, my therapist:

"Heather pushes the tube down into the cracks of her soul with all she has (OUCH!), then pulls it back out (OUCH!!!) to inspect the contents within it"

#1 TOOL: FIND AN EXPERT DIGGER TO HELP YOU DIG

I say this from experience. Counseling has such a bad wrap. I mean seriously, it does. Like when I was a kid, if you went to a counselor, you were crazy. Like asylum crazy. No ONE goes to a counselor, and if you did, you sure didn't announce it.

That misnomer sadly still floats about the world of therapists and psychologists, or gasp, psychiatrists! It's all garbage.

The best thing you could ever do for yourself, your spouse, your kids and the rest of the people that are in your world is find a good therapist/counselor/mentor/spiritual director.  Someone who can be truthful with you and objective to you.

I have had three different counselors/therapists over the past decade.  Each brought a unique perspective and teaching to me, though each different in style and approach.  All three were good therapists.

Janet is my most recent therapist.  She has been the one that has helped me the most, along with some series of circumstances that I call divine intersections. You can read in my other blog posts about the fun we've had together. But though challenging and sometimes infuriating, our visits always invite me to dig deeper. To find the core of the real me, to get at the truth that lies underneath all the junk I, and other people, have dumped all over me.

Digging into the hardened sediment of our souls is hard work. I need Janet to help me. She gives me perspective, honesty and objective viewpoints about my behavior and attitude. I need an expert. By the way, she is not the only person that functions as an expert objective witness in my life. Spiritual Directors, Mentors, Pastors, Life Coaches, etc. can often play a first role in being an expert objectivity witness to you and your own dig.

No matter who, an expert is critical to successfully beginning your first dig.

NOTE: Therapists are not all equal. I strongly recommend getting suggestions from a pastor, friend or doctor.  Your pastor, friends and doctors know you, and they know your needs the best (if you've shared with them.)

Digging: The First Dig

Going on a dig. Sounds romantic, doesn't it? Makes me think of Indiana Jones. And a story.

One of the great memories of me as a kid was in our backyard--usually armed with a rake, a shovel, maybe just a stick.  Digging down in the dirt, finding a mysterious hole, or following some critter to it's lair. Time flowed like water through my fingers, it seemed, as I went about the backyard taking it all in--breathing it in, really. Just experiencing it. It was effortless, it seemed, to be alive.

Then I was thirty-two. And being alive was not effortless.  My marriage was on the brink of complete failure. I was in counseling for codependency. And I really just wanted everything to be the way I wanted it to be--I wanted my PERFECT LIFE to be PERFECT. It wasn't. I was a hot mess, and so was my husband. We were so very far from perfect. Being alive was not effortless.

One day, I remember watching our own kids, then preschoolers, watch ants. Ants! They were both just sitting there, for several minutes, watching a row of ants do what ants do. They appeared transfixed.

Where was I? Watching them from above, towering over them like a typical adult: "Don't get too close." "Don't touch them!" "They bite!" "Why are you touching them?"

Their response? They completely ignored me. Their fascination with these little creatures totally consumed them, as their tiny mouths squealed and their chubby fingers reached out excitedly to watch the ants figure out a new way to get to their destination from around their fingertips.

Did I then stop my own self long enough to snap a picture, or sit down on the ground with them to soak up those moments?

I did not. I hurried them along inside the house, away from biting ants and all, to the inside and safety. Well, for me, it was safety, I think.

They were learning to be alive while I had learned to survive.

That time in my life had hardened a part of me. Along with many moments prior to it.
And in that hardening, cracks appeared in my soul.

Fast forward to 43, the year those cracks became my first dig-site--holy healing opportunities is what I call them.

But I had to dig.

To gather my tools like the little girl in the backyard of our little white rental house on Alonda Drive.
To dig down into hardened sediment and packed dirt and tangled weeds.
To lean into the shovel with my whole body, mind and spirit, to ask for help from others when I was exhausted or the pain too paralyzing.
To wholly rely on God whose grace would, I daily prayed, would sustain me.

Digging is hard work. The first dig is the scariest. It was scary. Dig anyway.

Rising Strong--Diving deeper into emotional healing.

So I am a voracious reader. I think I owe this very much to my mom. Summers in S. Louisiana are sticky hot. And when I was a kid, we didn't have internet games, apps, facetime, skype, PlayStations or the like. We had the thing between our ears--you know, a brain. Cultivating imagination and creativity is something that was part of my survival. Youngest of four kids, I found that my best escape was to a book. So every summer, after final grades were posted (and I usually was grounded), Mom and I would head to the public library.

Early on, Mom recognized that I was a book-consumer. I could read 3-4 books in the usual ten day lending period. So she started pointing me to books that were more challenging, and frankly probably more than an 11-12 year old needed to know, but off I went into the world of adult-level reading.

So I read books like some people eat pretzels, or Doritos.

I remember laughing out loud to myself one afternoon on the drive back to my home town. I had just been to see my therapist, who is outside the bounds of my hometown (I highly suggest that--makes it nice to have true objectivity, even geographical).  She had shared some new insight with me that was still rumbling about in my head and tapping on the door of my soul.  After several sessions, Janet (not her real name) had keenly observed me and my behaviors; that annoying thing that therapists do that make them so good at what they do. I say annoying because this day I was annoyed, at first. It went something like this:

Janet: So, Heather, I think I have observed you long enough to identify a pattern.  You are a quick learner. I also see how quickly you adapt to subjects we bring up in our work together. You quickly calculate and determine patterns of behavior and see the results.  You process verbally and quickly. It is very helpful in this work, as you know, and makes our time very productive, but I'm noticing something else.

Heather: (internally feeling a bit prideful about her obvious compliment but wary of the "something else" she describes; I know better now than to presume anything)  Okayyyy?

Janet: Because of certain behaviors we've discussed, I think you have a very complex coping mechanism that has helped you for probably most of your life. You have a very high cognitive functioning ability, and and a very low emotional functioning ability.

Heather: (silent by the internal check at the word "low" and I'm trying not to justify to myself what low means--deep breathe and speak) What does that mean?

Janet: (smiling now with her hands annoyingly folded in her lap, casual and relaxed) You have learned to cope with life by understanding it and adapting to it cognitively. With your brain. The brain is a complex, remarkable thing; and you have a finely tuned machine up here (she points to her head). But...(she pauses and I feel the tightening in my stomach start) emotionally, you have very little emotional intelligence in how to deal with life. In other words, emotions are not the way in which you understand the world, life and relationships. Behaviorially speaking, you manage issues in your life (relationships, friends, conflict, etc) from almost 90% cognitive functioning.


Heather: But I do feel emotions.

Janet: Oh yes, you feel emotions powerfully, and they impact your behavior. In a rather impulsive, explosive way. Because you haven't been taught how to be emotionally healthy--to manage emotions in a way that's functional.

Heather: (I realize in that moment what she means and I'm nauseous) So, I'm like not emotionally mature?

Janet: (smiles and nods) I think so...

At that point in the conversation, I sit silent and emotions are swirling and Janet allows me to swirl and stew. I like that about her. She lets me stew without fixing me. I don't like when people try to fix me. But I have learned sadly I LOVE to fix other people. Curious, right? Janet would say so.

Anyway, enter this book. Rising Strong.

I've read it. And I'm re-reading parts of it.

But on that day riding home, I made a decision. One that I think is really important. I made a decision to consider what she said and really get curious about that behavior. Something Brene shares is an important starting point to "Rising Strong", but it is only a starting point. The Rumbling she describes comes later.

So Janet and I had hatched a plan. Let's start with Heather being emotionally aware and see what happens. My freedom from emotional immaturity required me being emotional with balance. Weird, right? Yeah, I agree. But I did it. And I'm still doing it.

Brene writes the following and I've replaced her name with mine:

 "I can promise that you will meet the romping, tantrum-throwing, five year old {Heather} in almost all of my first stories, like you did in {fill in with one of my stories} story. Our rational, grown-up selves are good liars. The five year old tyrants with us are the ones who tell it like it is."

I needed my five year old to tell me exactly what was going on. And I needed to listen to what had made her become who she was. And that was the beginning of the end.

A Manifesto from a broken-down beautiful mess

This week has been filled up with many tasks. Many duties. Many unsavory tasks as well. Relationships I wish I could magically repair (I don't really believe that, but, gee, it would be nice sometimes!). Harms that I've done to others. Regrets. But remarkably, and to my utter surprise (and to my therapist even!) I am moving onward.

I wrote a manifesto this week. Having spent many months working in something called Courage to Lead, we had our last retreat together. And we were invited to write our manifesto. Our way forward, our way out, our way toward...

So here's mine. In all her vulnerable glory. I plan to post it anywhere and everywhere I can readily see it in those crunch times--you know, the times when the world stops and my stomache knots up so much I feel nauseous. Crunch times. Those happen. It's just what it is like to live in this world, this broken, hot mess of a world.

Yet I am grateful. Grateful for a grace that sustains and strengthens me. That whispers in my ear to stop the tapes that play in my head--sometimes on repeat.  And the courage to reach out and hit STOP on those tapes too. Thanks be to God.