Happy Wednesday, church family!

As a counseling student in grad school, I was trained not only in the art of helping others process and navigate life's challenges, but also in how to do so in a healthy, sustainable way. We were taught that maintaining our own mental and emotional well-being is essential to helping others on a daily basis. So, taadaa!!! I’m a trained, completely well-adjusted, always put together counselor! (I really hope you’re able to read the sarcasm in my words.)

Shortly after my mom passed away, I laid in bed one night, thinking I needed to make sure to process everything that had happened to the full extent, so nothing would be suppressed or repressed. There were several traumatic events that led up to the day she actually passed away. I wanted to ensure that I was, once again, totally put together and healed. So, I pulled out my counselors’ toolbox and began working through things. Hmm, perhaps I should have added “perfectionist” and “likes to be in control” to my description above. 

After listening to Matt’s sermon on Sunday, and hearing his words about allowing yourself to feel the feelings, then taking them to God, I thought, well I’m dang darn good at feeling all the feelings. I’ve been trained to do so! But then I realized that even though I allow myself to feel all the things, I too often leave out the most important thing: working through the grief with God, not just by myself. Whoops.

It’s not that I consciously reject God in my mourning, or refuse to share with Him. While grieving my mom, I just did it myself, I didn’t even think about it. (Not that that’s better, *grimace*).  Technically I got through it, but I really wonder what it would have been like if I’d invited Jesus in at every moment. What would it have been like if I’d have been aware of just how close He was to me during those painful moments, just waiting for me to turn to Him, instead of choosing to do it alone. I may be a trained counselor, but He is THE Wonderful Counselor. Friends, if you’ve ever lost someone close to you, you know the grieving is never fully over, it just changes. So here’s the good news: Jesus is still there in the process of grieving my mom, He’s still available for me to come to in the gut punching moments that come out of nowhere. Like Matt’s dream, he’s been curled up next to me through it all. 

Jesus, I’m so grateful that it’s never too late to invite You in. I’m sorry that I’ve left You out of the moments that You could have given me beautiful comfort and guidance. I can’t do it alone, I’ve tried, and I’m tired. Thank You, that You haven’t left me, and You are there to hold me and comfort me. I choose to include You, and invite You in. Bless and seal these good things in Your name, amen. 

May your week be blessed, 

Lisa

Happy Wednesday, church family!

Remember in elementary school when you had to diagram sentences? Grammar was everything, nouns go here, verbs go there, and don't forget about the prepositions, adverbs, and adjectives. Everything had its place in this neat little horrible diagram of lines and offshoots. I absolutely hated diagramming sentences. I never could remember what went on what line, and why. I think it was the most useless thing to learn in school, next to proofs in geometry. Ironically, my mom had been an English teacher, so every time I wrote a paper for school, she butchered it with a red pen (but she didn't mention diagrams!). When I homeschooled my girls in elementary school, I even skipped diagramming, explaining to them I'd used it zero times in my life. I knew how to write, and I knew what "sounded" right, so therefore that was all I needed. Grammar doesn't really matter, right?  

Enter Andy’s mic-drop words from Sunday’s sermon:

Satan wants us to tie our identity to our wounds and pain, or our efforts, or perfection. Jesus writes His name on our hearts and our identity is about what He’s done, not what we do.

At first, I thought, I don’t really tie my identity to my wounds, weakness, etc. Then I remembered these thoughts: I’m anxious. I can’t do that. I’m frumpy. I can’t remember names. Those are all identity statements. Oooh boy. Debbie is so good at catching me when I say things like this- she reminds me: “Change your grammar!” I may struggle with things, I may fail at others, but those things don’t determine or define WHO I am. 

When I say something over and over about myself, of course I’m going to believe it. Self-fulfilling prophecy in full effect! I used to say the phrase “my anxiety”. In those two words, I’ve claimed anxiety as who I am- owned it, and accepted it. No, thank you. That’s not how I want to identify myself! But if I change those words to “I feel anxious”, or “I struggle with anxiety”, I’m removing its weight, and in turn, taking the power away from Satan and his attempts to bring me down.

I am not my struggles. I am not my past. I have experienced my past, and it has shaped me, but I am not that wound. I AM a child of God. I AM loved. I am NOT who someone else thinks I am. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am SAVED by Jesus, I am broken, but because I trust in my Savior, I have hope, I am restored. Come on, ya’ll, say it with me, yes, you guessed it, TOGETHER. 

Jesus, thank You for writing Your name on my heart, for claiming me as Your own. I choose to believe this truth, and reject the lies that I am anything but Yours. Show me where else in my life I am believing lies, and in those places, let Your truth shine bright. Bless and seal these good things, in Your precious name, amen. 

May your week be blessed, 

Lisa

Happy Wednesday, church family!

In a crisis or moment of chaos, I tend to be the calm one. I’ve rocked individuals and talked them out of a panic attack. When my car spun out on the freeway and I ended up facing the wrong direction, I managed to calmly flip a quick U, and pull over to the side before tragedy struck (yes, my heart rate and blood pressure skyrocked shortly after). I have been called a human Xanax more than one time in my life. Yet there was a day this week that I was NOT the calm one. I wanted to just run away from all the things that were going on. I won’t bore you with the all gory details, but stressors were being thrown at me left and right. From my dad calling to say he split his head open and was driving himself to get a head scan, to having to interact with an individual that provokes all kinds of stress. Throw in a few other things like family visiting from out of town, and I was a mess. My usual “OK, I got this” mentality was gone. I felt like I was being torn in too many directions, and I was done.

After sitting on the couch staring at the wall for a few minutes, I had the most amazing realization. I should ask Jesus into that moment. (No, it wasn’t my initial gut reaction, and no, I’m not proud of that). But I did, and I even took it a step further. We have a message thread for staff and elders for prayer requests. I took a breath, and wrote all I was feeling, and asked for prayer. My friends, what happened next was absolutely nothing short of a miracle. I calmed down. Things started falling into place, and interaction with the difficult person went better than I could have ever imagined. That was 100% Jesus right there. 

I feel like my story this week is a culmination of the last several weeks. We’ve talked about vulnerability, doing things together, and sharing with safe people, and giving the bleh stuff to Jesus, by inviting Him into the mess. This week Andy talked about not giving away our peace. Before asking Jesus into the moment, I was letting both people and situations steal my peace. Actually, my peace wasn’t being stolen. I was handing it over, willingly. Ew. But I made the decision to invite Him in, I even said it out loud. Then I found my courage, and was vulnerable by asking for prayer. It was one of those things that I feel like I can’t stop talking or thinking about because it was so amazing. 

Jesus, THANK YOU. I don’t know why I’m so surprised when You do something amazing, yet here I stand, still in awe. Thank You for showing me so many things this week. I choose to let You to hold my peace, not myself, not others, not the situations around me. Bless and seal these good things in me, In Your name, amen. 

May your week be blessed,

Lisa

Happy Wednesday, church family!

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping’.

~Fred Rogers

In this week’s sermon, when Pastor Andy talked about focusing on Jesus instead of the evil in this world, I thought about Mr. Rogers’ words. But even if there’s helpers, there’s still bad stuff, right? Well, yes, but looking for the good shifts my mindset from panic, fear or anger, to calm. It’s kind of a reset button to step back and look at the situation from a different perspective. It’s so easy with all the bleh going on in the world, far from, and close to home, to get my panties in a bunch over everything. But that’s not all that’s going on. Like Mr. Rogers said, there are helpers, and the weight of what they are doing has so much more density and power than the yuck that started it all. 

Let’s take Sunday, for example. Debbie and I were up front doing announcements. My words flubbed more than usual, and the perfectionist in me froze. But honestly, I had a moment where I looked out at all of your faces, the smiles, and that’s when I saw the “helpers”. I realized I didn’t have to be perfect, so we laughed, turned around, and started fresh (still with flubs, but oh well). You did that, my friends. In that moment, you were Jesus to me, reminding me that you love me, even when I don’t know what day of the week or even month we’re in. I love you guys.

Jesus, thank You for the reminder to look for the good and the helpers, and for the change in perspective to focus on You instead of the evil around us. Thank You for my friends, my church family, for reminding me of this when I need it. I fix my eyes on You, Jesus. Bless and seal these good things, in Your name, amen.

May your week be blessed,

Lisa