When Grief Surprises You

When Grief Surprises You
Photo by Jordan Donaldson | @jordi.d on Unsplash

I’m in a season of grief right now. Oh, I’m not sad all the time. It surprises me, actually. It comes in waves, like the ocean.

I’ve become more acquainted with the ocean now that we live 45 minutes from it. I love walking along the beach at sunrise. The waves are so unpredictable. They surprise you sometimes, coming up further than you expect. You can’t predict them.

Sometimes the water stays far away. Other times it stretches out and touches your feet, even washing up to your ankles if you’re close enough.

That’s my experience of grief.

If only it were a linear, predictable process. Hard at first, and then gradually subsiding. Less and less over time, until you don’t feel it anymore. A clear timeline with a precise end date. You do your grieving and then you’re done, praise Jesus.

Instead, grief feels like a stranger popping out from behind doors at the most unexpected times.

When we walked onto the stage to stand with our son at graduation, I was surprisingly calm. Later, as one of his good friends stood there with her parents, I lost it.

When I have thought about graduation in the past weeks, I have felt more pride than sorrow. Then a week ago I read an email from friends overseas and the tears spilled over at how well they’re doing.

His graduation party was all joy, then last week I folded one of his never-to-be-worn-again uniform shirts and I broke down.

That’s the thing with grief-it’s all right there, but we can’t control or predict it.

I’m often frustrated by this unpredictable guest. Probably because it reminds me that I am not always doing as well as I would like (or like others) to think. It keeps me vulnerable, never knowing when a wave of grief might catch me off guard, when I might start crying about some random person’s life, when it’s really just touching my own.

But I’ve been learning these last few years that grief is a necessary companion. In fact, it is a doorway to wholeheartedness.

I know that part of the reason my grief comes out sideways is that I don’t want to deal with it. It’s easier to stay focused on my to do list, buying dorm essentials and harping on him to finish those thank you notes (I swear, he’s working on them), than to let the waves crash so hard I lose my footing.

But [ictt-tweet-inline]losing our footing in grief is what we must do sometimes.[/ictt-tweet-inline] More and more I am learning to stop and walk straight into the waves. To let myself dwell on what we are losing, and how much it hurts to lose. To say a proper goodbye to this beautiful season we have lived.

When I do, I find that those waves don’t drown-they heal.

And I’m learning that I cannot navigate the waves alone. It’s easier to weather waves of grief when there are people walking beside us, holding us up. They hold our hands and make us brave as we walk into the waves. We need those people who will life preservers, keeping us afloat while we to swim in the grief for a little while.

We can’t fight the waves. Instead, we can accept that they are a natural part of the journey. We can give space to our souls to process the grief when it comes. And we can invite others to hold space for us to feel all of it, so when the waves do come, we can swim.

Let the sorrow come and touch you. When we do that, we let ourselves be human. We live wholeheartedly. Let grief surprise.

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Drop the Hot Dog – Learning to Feed on What Truly Satisfies

Drop the Hot Dog (Learning to Feed on What Truly Satisfies)
photo by Mike Kenneally

Confession: While I deeply want to be loved for who I am (and fear that I might not be), I settle for admiration. It feels like love. But that’s like eating a hot dog when what I need is rich soul food.

It’s easier, feeding off admiration. Admiration is more accessible. It’s more within my control to seek out the praise of others than it is to lay myself bare before them and hope I am enough in myself. I pour my energy into dazzling others with my gifts and tell myself I’m satisfied while my true hunger lies under the surface, unmet.

We all have our hot dogs.

Our hot dogs are those easy, cheap, artificial substitutes for what our hearts deeply crave. We eat the worldly foods we hope will bring us life. Because we don’t believe our true needs will be met, we settle for less.

We all settle for something lesser to satisfy our souls.

We want to be wanted, but we settle for being needed.

Our souls need true connection, but we settle for false peace, fueled by a fear of confrontation.

We want intimacy, but we settle for staying in control, hiding our weaknesses where they cannot be touched.

We feed on competence, reputation, usefulness, perfectionism, security, self-righteousness, self-sufficiency, busy schedules and so much more.

A few years ago, the taste of success began to sour for me.

Oh, don’t get me wrong-I love the feeling that I have accomplished something. I never fail to appreciate admiration. But I could feed off success all day long and twice on Sunday and never satisfy the deep hunger of my soul to be known and loved for who I am. That is a desire for which admiration is a pale substitute.

It’s like I woke one day and realized I have been feeding myself bread made from sawdust. Worse than a hot dog. That is the act of a person who is starving and must feed herself any way she can. It is the act of a person who doesn’t believe there is manna for her to eat instead.

God in his mercy keeps showing me ways I am trying to find life and love where it is not meant to be found. He keeps drawing my eyes back to Him and His provisions. God loves me too much to let me go hungry.

He calls me to drop the hot dogs.

He tells me to stop trying to feed myself something that isn’t going to satisfy. (We can have a pretty tight grip on our hot dogs. Sometimes He has to outright smack them out of our hands. Word to the wise-just let go. It’s easier).

Instead of our hot dogs, God is offering us a feast.

When we stop scrambling to feed ourselves, we see how He is providing rich food all around us. We see the manna of His presence, peace, joy, and love in all the ordinary moments He gives us throughout the day. He is constantly trying to feed us.

As I step back from seeking admiration, the deeper hunger of my heart has come to the surface. I am learning to own the hunger, to feel it more deeply rather than ignore it. I hear His invitation to the feast. The call to feast on Him alone is more satisfying than anything I could feed myself.

Don’t believe the lie that the hot dog will satisfy.

It’s not what you need. What He offers is better. Ask Him to show you what you are settling for, and how you are trying to feed yourself. What you hunger for is found best in Him. He is the source of love, the bread of life. Be satisfied in Him.

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10 Books for a Journey to Wholeheartedness

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On the journey to being wholehearted, we need a lot of encouragement. So much of mine has come through my literary friends. These authors have been spiritual companions and guides, and I hope they may be for you as well. Let me know if you read them, so we can geek out about them together.

Abba’s Child
Brennan Manning grabbed my heart with The Ragamuffin Gospel, but this book was the one that cemented the importance of “defining yourself radically as one Beloved by God.” This is where I was introduced to the concept of the “imposter” or “pharisee within”-the false sense we present to the world that we think is more acceptable than who we are. Manning says of the heart, “wholeness is brokenness owned and thereby healed.” 

To Be Told
I’m a huge Dan Allender fan-this man speaks the language of the heart. In this book, he encourages us to ask the question, “Do I really believe that God not only wrote my story but that He also loves my story?” There are two versions of this – the book and the workbook. The book is a great place to start; the workbook is like the book on crack. You could spend a lifetime answering the questions in it! If you find yourself wanting to dig deeper into your story after the book, then pick and choose questions from the workbook to help you. They would make great discussion starters for relationships!

Strong Women, Soft Hearts
I was given this book after a tough international move; it set me on a new trajectory. She touches on so many issues of the heart-trust, vulnerability, desire, control, relationships, fear, hope. It’s not a book on transition per se, but it has been one that I returned to each time my life has shifted significantly, because it reminds me that life is not found in staying in the safe, small places of my heart, but in embracing all that God gives me. Bottom line-it makes me want to be brave.

Soul Keeping
John Ortberg is one of my writing heroes. I have a theory that he shares the same Enneagram* type as me (I’m a huge fan of the Enneagram) which makes me like him even more. This book is a gentle punch to the gut reminder that we cannot thrive if we are not caring for ourselves at a soul level. It’s a call to slow down, recognize our needs, and learn to drink deeply from the Source of life. “The unlimited neediness of the soul matches the unlimited grace of God.” 

Rising Strong
I first encountered this book in audio form, read by Brené Brown herself; it was like walking with her every morning, which is ah-mazing. It was so good, I had to re-read it in paper form so I could take notes. My favorite quote? “grace will take you places hustling can’t.” It’s given me words for the moments when I hustle for my worth, instead of trusting that I am enough, and has given me a process by which to untangle the “story I’m making up” when I am tempted to doubt myself. I can’t say enough about how much this book encourages me to be brave in the arenas of life where God has called me.

The Faces of Rage
This book is out of print, which is a crying shame (but never fear – you can still get used copies!). In recent years, my awareness of how rage and contempt keeps us from being wholehearted has increased. This book reveals how we use contempt to avoid feeling pain and loss, and the ramifications of choosing contempt instead of moving into those areas of grief. More importantly, it gave me hope that God can heal those places of pain so that we don’t have to use contempt and rage to cover it. Perhaps most convicting, “When we spend our lives consciously or unconsciously avoiding loss, we aren’t available for meaningful relationships-not with God, ourselves, or others.” Uff da.

Inner Voice of Love
Henri Nouwen writes in a similar vein to Brennan Manning, which is probably why I love him. Both of them camp out in God’s amazing love for the broken hearted (which is all of us). This book is a collection from his private journal during a time when he struggled to hold onto the truth of God’s love for him. “Keep saying, ‘God loves me, and God’s love is enough.’ You have to choose the solid place over and over again, and return to it after every failure.” Indeed. These entries encourage me to keep listening to His voice speaking truth to me.

The Return of the Prodigal Son
Nouwen has been such a companion on this journey, he lands himself on this list twice! He wrote this book after an afternoon of staring at the painting “The Return of the Prodigal Son” by Rembrandt. He shows us how we can find ourselves in both the younger and older sons of the story, and how, ultimately, we are to become like the Father. I have always identified most with the older brother. What broke me from this book is that the older brother is just as lost as the younger brother, because he lived like a servant who had to earn his place, rather than as a beloved child. But, “whether I am the younger son or the older son, God’s only desire is to bring me home.” 

Sacred Parenting
Hands down best parenting book I’ve ever read! Yes, I tend toward hyperbole, but I am not exaggerating in this circumstance. I love it because it’s not a how to book. It’s a “here’s how God wants to shape you through parenting” kind of book, and I needed that. Two principles stood out to me. First, I can’t be a perfect parent who never sins against my kids, but I can be a confessional one who apologizes to them when I do sin. Second, when I apologize, and when I discipline, these are moments to show our kids not how to behave, but that they desperately need Jesus. It was challenging and encouraging all at once.

Bravehearts
It’s hard to find good books about relationships for women, but this book nails it. I love that she casts a vision for loving extravagantly, which involves embracing the deeply vulnerable desire for relationships while trusting God for the fulfillment of them. This encouraged me not to kill that desire but to seek healthy ways for it to be lived out.

*bonus book:
The Wisdom of the Enneagram 
I was introduced to the Enneagram about eight years ago from some other leadership coaches. My initial reaction was, “This is a load of crap,” which is how I respond to most personality assessments. Mostly, that was because I didn’t want to own the results it was showing me. (I’m a 3, by the way). Not surprising, because the uniqueness of this personality typing is that it doesn’t just tell you what you do-it tells you why you do it. It reveals core desires, needs, sin, and how you live those out. For me on this journey toward being wholehearted, it has helped me see where I seek life and love apart from God, trying to meet my own needs through less than satisfying ways. It’s also helped me understand my family members and friends in such a way that I can love then better (I think. I hope). Be cautious in looking into this online though-there are several websites on the Enneagram that have a strong new age foundation. I would recommend The Enneagram Institute, which is the site associated with this book.

So there they are-some of the books that have changed my life. What has God used to help you grow in wholeheartedness? I’m always looking for a new read, so tell me!

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When Fear Is a Dictator

When Fear Is a Dictator

Confession: I have been afraid to write.

This is problematic, as I am obviously a blogger. I also have a mostly written book I sincerely hope to finish and have published.

This fear has been growing throughout the last year. It gnaws at me when I see my computer out of the corner of my eye. It pokes at me when I see other people tweeting links to wonderful posts others have written. It shuts down my thoughts. It keeps my fingers still.

It’s a fear that it won’t be enough. People won’t like what I write. It won’t draw the audience I hope it will. It will sit out there in the open like a sad, unpicked girl at a dance, while the other posts are grabbed by the hand and thrown from partner to partner.

Oh how I hate this fear. I hate the grip it has on my soul. I hate the way fear turns my eyes from God and onto me. I hate that it is a little dictator, barking at me to stay silent, to give up, to step out of the arena because if I can’t be as great as I hope I could be, then I should quit. It says it just isn’t worth it.

I’ve had enough of my little dictator.

I recently took a sabbatical from work, a time when I thought I would write more. Instead, I found God calling me first to wrestle this fear to the ground and give it a good dose of truth. It’s time to take these thoughts captive and make them obedient to Christ.

The truth is that my fear means my eyes are far too much on me. Fear makes me focus on finding my own glory, not His. Fear tells me to hustle for my worth. It demands I build a kingdom for myself, and at the same time tells me I’ll never be able to do it.

Fear loves to dictate the what, the how, the when, the how much, of our lives. It tells us to shut up. It demands that we stop trying. It tells us to shrink back and hang in the shadows of the brave places God calls us to live.

Fear whispers to us, as we stand on the edge of faith, of all that could go wrong. It takes our eyes off God and turns them to the what if’s, and maybe’s, and you’d better not’s, and what will people think’s.

It silences our voices and eventually our hearts.

So this morning I am turning my eyes back to Him.

I read today in Minding Your Emotions, “We handle fear by going from self-made to God-made, from self-important to God-honoring, from self-satisfied to God-soaked, from self-preoccupied to God-dazzled.”

There it is – I go from me to Him. I tell fear the truth that this is God’s kingdom, not mine. I tell it that I don’t have to make a kingdom for myself because this is the place where I’m already valued and free. I tell it that I’m going to step out in faith anyway because it’s not about my glory after all – it’s about His.

He strips fear of its power over us.

I’m asking Him to not let fear be my dictator, but to let His Spirit be my guide.

How is fear your dictator?

Related:

He Makes Me Brave 

Do It Scared 

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Either/Or Thinking in a Both/And World

Either/Or Thinking in a Both/And World

Our daughter loved watching Once Upon a Time, a wonderful show about fairy tale characters stuck in our world. She often asked me, “Is he a good guy, or a bad guy?” She wanted to know, to be sure who to like or dislike.

I had watched further than her, so I knew – those characters surprise. They weren’t as clear-cut as we imagine. I had to keep telling her, (and I’m thankful that the characters evolved to prove my point) that people aren’t good or bad. Maybe the evil queen can love. Captain Hook can be sacrificial. Snow White can make poor choices.

Sometimes issues and people aren’t either/or.

But the thing is, we want them to be. Gravitating toward black and white thinking is easier because then we feel solid. We know where we stand. Drawing lines tells us who to include, who to ignore. We know where to put our energy into defending a stance. It feels safe. We think we’re winning.

It all feels sometimes like a giant game of tug of war. This side is right. No, this one is. Either you stand with me or you stand against me. There is no middle ground. Either my side is true, or yours is.

From a Christian standpoint, this feels right. Truth isn’t relative, is it?

The problem is that we draw the circle of absolutes much larger than God does.

We label people in a way He won’t. Jesus spent the most time with people our society would call “bad.” He called out the “good” people on their hidden sin. He doesn’t categorize us in black and white terms; he sees us for the glorious messes we are, the contradictions of our hearts. Jesus sees the both/and in us.

It’s challenging for us to hold those contradictions.

Easier to pretend some of them aren’t true. We write some people off because they are not worth our attention, time, compassion. They are either heroes or villains, either good or bad.

But to be both/and people means we need to open our hearts wider. We need to sit in peoples’ stories so we can know the white police officer who is just doing the best he can, and the black man who is tired of people assuming he just doesn’t respect authority.

We can ache for unborn babies at the same time that we are shocked by the ruthless killing of animals.

While we recognize that our systems are in need of reform, our hearts still break for the desperate who try to cross borders.

We can disagree with leaders and not vilify them. When we see people living “other” than us we know that we can still be “and.”

Let’s stop being either/or people in a both/and world. Drawing lines, taking sides-these keep us from moving toward one another with the gospel.

Let us be like Jesus, who sits with people in their contradictions, the mess, the ache of the world and its fallenness, and He loves. The good news is this – He cares about all of it. We can too.

Related:

We Are All Glorious Messes

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An Open Letter to the World

Somewhere early on, I concluded that my heart was not important.

The world doesn’t often ask for our hearts. It asks for our cooperation, our performance, our silence, our strength, our appearance, our obedience, but not our hearts. So I set mine aside and gave what the world asked of me instead. We all do, in our own ways.

But we can’t live without our hearts, and God knows it.

So He started chipping away at the carefully constructed strategies I’d built around my heart to protect it; the ways I strive to impress, to perform, to be admirable. He talked to me about His love, His freedom, His grace. He told me that yes, He does want my heart. All of it. And not just the parts I find acceptable or pleasing or enjoyable. Not just the positive emotions, but the anger and doubts and fears and shame and grief and depravity. He has spent years stripping away the layers on the outside, while He fills me up from the inside, trying to show me that life is meant to be lived wholeheartedly, open heartedly, big heartedly. He’s been waking me up, bringing me to back to life.

I would love to say that trying to live with my whole heart is easy, but it’s isn’t. Often, it means living with an ache – of griefs recognized, hurts owned, desires unmet. It is living in the in between, a belly-exposed kind of vulnerability.

But it’s in this place that I am learning how important my heart is. When I own my whole heart, there is freedom, authenticity, a greater capacity to love and be loved. And it’s not only for me, but for others as well. When I own what is in my heart and share it, it draws people. It gives permission to others to bring their hearts too. As my heart grows, I cannot help but want to help others find the depths of theirs. My heart breaks when I see others numb, ignore, kill, and shame their own hearts. It is not how we were meant to live.

So my hope, my mission in life, is to be an authentic voice that calls others to wholeheartedly live our their true selves in Christ. We cannot be all that we are called to be in Christ if we leave our hearts behind. By God’s grace, I hope to continue on this journey of living with my whole heart, and helping others to do the same.

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