My journey as a spiritual nomad

Ah, the doldrums of January -- somehow the hustle and bustle of the holidays come to a screeching halt, and we're left with dreary weather and suddenly a lot more time to reflect on life.  For me, it's more than just the beginning of a new year that inspires me to make a fresh start.  It's trying to return to normal life after the holidays, and then slowly realizing that I'm not sure what normal looks like anymore. The new year is an opportune time for us to create the "new normal," in hopes that we can get back into proper balance in life.  

As with many of us, this greater focus on self-reflection has brought up some uncomfortable issues for me. The primary one being, I don't feel that I'm in a much better place spiritually than I was a year ago when I decided to take a break from New Life, my church home for over eight years.  For some time I had felt a spiritual malaise setting in, like I was only attending church out of duty.  I still felt that it was a fine place of worship, but it no longer felt like the New Life I had once known, where I had experienced such amazing personal and spiritual growth in previous years.  The ministry areas in which I had served before felt dry and forced, like I was trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

In January 2010, I embarked on a journey to figure out where I belonged. Was it merely that I needed a temporary break from New Life?  Did I just need to go through a time of recovery and healing after all that had transpired in that church?  Or was it time to join a new body of believers?  The latter thought was almost more than I could fathom at the time.  I was burned out from several intense years of serving in small groups, youth ministry, and missions teams, and it felt refreshing to go forth with a clean slate. 

However, I became a spiritual nomad.  Every weekend I was faced with the frustrating decision of where to go to church that Sunday. What should have felt liberating made me feel even more alone and disconnected.  Typically, I would default to visiting The Springs Church, a new church plant that consists primarily of ex-New Lifers.  Because of this, it was familiar to me, almost as if I were attending a version of New Life the way it used to be.  Several of my friends were regular attendees there, so I didn't feel like a complete stranger.  

Around the time I took my hiatus from New Life, I also left a small group I had been in for almost two years. Due to one of my friends nudging me, I got involved in a small group through The Springs Church. I had been craving something that had spiritual depth -- something that I could really sink my teeth in. This group, an in-depth Bible study on the Song of Solomon (not a topic I would have picked myself, but still good), presented just that. The content was so rich that I felt like I was sitting at a table full of delicious food, yet I was only able to nibble at it. As I left the group on Sunday nights, I would be inspired and ready to devote more time to prayer and to reading the Word. Yet by Monday evening, the momentum I had gained was decreasing rapidly. By Tuesday, it was much of same humdrum as before. 

Near the end of the small group, two friends and I ventured to Kansas City to spend some time at the International House of Prayer (IHOP).  All of us hoped that we would return to Colorado Springs refreshed and spiritually renewed after a weekend of experiencing God. It did, in fact, change me -- but with nothing having changed at home, I couldn't seem to sustain that passion for God.  Summertime consisted of going through Beth Moore's Esther Bible study with several friends -- it was a good way to stay "on track" during what is usually a season in which small groups take a break. 

It was around the beginning of the summer when I attended a concert at New Life and spent half of it in the bathroom crying because I realized it was no longer my church home. I hadn't felt a strong urge from the Lord to make The Springs Church my new home, but I liked it so far and I needed to plug in somewhere.  I went through their small group training and took a membership class with hopes to get connected and start serving again.  

My few vain attempts to commit to something fell through, and I got distracted by a number of different things going on.  I didn't join a new small group because I couldn't find one that fit. I wasn't sure if I was ready to take on youth ministry again or to do altar ministry.  I have a feeling that sometime in the past year or two I've become fearful of committing to ministry and then getting burned out -- it was daunting just to think about moving forward.

My lack of commitment may or may not have been divinely timed, as another variable caused me to wonder if I would continue going to The Springs Church on a long-term basis. Andy and I started dating a few months ago, and since he attends Boulder Street Church, it crossed my mind that I might eventually attend there also. It was a challenging autumn in that I felt even more disconnected and uncertain of things than ever.  

The encouraging part is, sometimes you have to go through a really dry time like this to be able to transition into a new place.  I'm at the point of desperation -- for God's presence, for spiritual growth, for community -- that motivates me to move forward. I have no idea what I am doing or how I am going to get there. At this point, I am willing to push myself out of my comfort zone to try new things.  I only pray that God will meet me there and do what I cannot do myself -- get me out of this spiritual rut and plant a vision in my heart for the future. It may not look like anything from the past, but if He is with me, I am confident that it will be good. 

After a lot of prayer and pondering, I've decided to go to Boulder Street.  In a couple of days, I am going to start attending a small group, and I am going to continue to pray that God leads me to the right avenues of ministry in His perfect timing.  It's not fun being a spiritual nomad -- we weren't designed to be that way -- but I trust this journey has been for a reason.  Perhaps only time will tell.

Is road rage curable?

If you're doubting that human beings are inherently sinful, look no further than your nearest freeway on-ramp or busy intersection to confirm the worst. There's rarely a day that goes by that you won't see someone driving who is impatient, selfish, or just plain stupid, and it's a constant struggle to keep a good attitude. I live in Colorado Springs, where the traffic is fairly mild and my commute to work consists of only hopping two exits north on the Interstate, and yet I feel the constant battle of finagling my way around town without getting offended or frustrated.

With the exception of perhaps the Internet (okay, and maybe reality shows), people seem to be at their worst when behind the wheel. And I have to admit, I am probably the chief sinner, second only to the guy in the supped-up Subaru who cut me off on the way to the gym the other day. But seriously, I see the worst sides of myself come out when dealing with other cars on the road. It's not just the purposely rude and selfish people who irritate me, it's also the spaced-out ones who seemed to notice at the last minute that they had to merge into my lane. Or it's the woman who is applying mascara and apparently giving herself a full makeover instead of pressing down on the accelerator once the light turns green. 

I'm not the type of person who gets angered easily...except when it comes to other drivers. Perhaps all of the frustrations of the day or week are channeled into this one area of my life, and then poof! something just sets me off. I don't cuss them out or make rude gestures. Instead, I seethe inside of the confines of my vehicle, shouting to no one in particular, "People are such morons! Ugh!" On other days, my outburst may be a bit tamer, where I resort to sarcastic comments like, "Calm down there, Zippy" or "That has to be the ugliest car I have ever seen."  Never mind that the other driver can't hear me -- or that I don't drive the most beautiful of cars -- I suppose I must feel that by making a snide comment I can somehow get back at them.

The severity of my insults tends to coincide with my overall stress level for that day. And it begs the question, if I am getting upset with total strangers for just being imperfect humans, what is going on in my heart? In the Gospel of Matthew, it states "For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks." If that's the case, I have a much bigger problem than a mini-van cutting me off outside the church parking lot (although, isn't that discouraging? Really, people!).  

I used to sport a Christian fish symbol on the back of my car. I think it might have made me more accountable. I'm not exactly sure why we Christians like slapping fish, doves, and bumper stickers about the rapture on our vehicles -- maybe it's so we feel like we belong or we just need to take a stand for what we believe in some way. And while I doubt many have gotten saved by reading a sign on a person's car, it does identify you to the rest of the world as one of those "Christians." Yet many Christians refuse to identify themselves in such a way. I started hearing, "I don't have a fish symbol on my car because I speed so much" or because "I'm kind of a crazy driver." Last I checked, Christians don't go to a special driving school to become better drivers than the rest of the world. They're just people...but don't we expect them to be the models of perfection? I get way angrier when I get cut off by a vehicle displaying a bright yellow Q102.7 (our Christian radio station) sticker than I do a car without one.

If I'm honest, I'm not always the most considerate or attentive driver myself. I sometimes take a while to step on the gas because I'm daydreaming, and I do change lanes at the last minute because I wasn't thinking ahead. I expect people to extend grace to me, but do I always extend it back to them? Sometimes, yes. I should know this better than most people because of my job, but there are a lot of hurting people out there, and who knows what form of hell on earth they are experiencing. Maybe they're barely hanging by a thread emotionally, mentally, or spiritually, and all we can see from our perspective is a stupid driver. Not that this should excuse bad behavior, but it should make you think twice before you jump to conclusions and insult their car.

The stress snowball

A funny thing happens when I start getting stressed out about life -- I get busier. Everyone copes with stress differently, but I try to avoid dealing with it by filling my schedule with other things. For some reason, I must think that by distracting myself with other tasks, I will feel better. You can tell where this is going -- then I get even more overwhelmed, and the stress starts snowballing. When I start cutting down on the time in which I could recharge and spend time with God, then the snowball suddenly picks up more momentum. It's only a matter of time until it crashes at the bottom of the mountain and then explodes into frozen smithereens.

I find myself in the midst of an utter meltdown and wonder how I got to this point again. Haven't I learned yet from the many previous snowball-exploding experiences in my life? My friend recently observed that I do "fine" for a long time, and all of a sudden I realize things are out of my control. It's my human nature that wants to avoid these problems, rather than face them. It seems easier at the time to "busy" yourself instead of working through the stress and emotional turmoil staring you down.

Another contributing factor could be that I cringe at the thought of showing these true emotions to others -- an ironic problem because my meltdowns often take place in the presence of others, much to my chagrin (no one really wants to start crying in a meeting room at work, do they?). I'm still working through the faulty mindset of maintaining an emotional lockdown and not allowing others to see how overwhelmed I am. My mom loves to compare stuffing emotions to stuffing garbage down in a dumpster -- it's only a matter of time before the stench starts seeping out.

The common advice would be to "nip it in the bud," but it's become so natural for me, that I don't even realize when it is budding. Perhaps I can aim toward nipping it in the early blooming stages first, with the hope of nipping the bud eventually.It's got to be a day-to-day, moment-to-moment decision to be conscious of my stress level -- and to pray, journal, and talk to others about it as needed. It's a fine line between confiding in others and dumping your junk on them, but it's important to find the balance. 

Right now I am in the midst of a very busy time, and I love it and hate it at the same time. Why I have I not blogged since August? Because in August we started a crazy schedule of training at work, and it just sapped my energy. I entered into maintenance mode. I suddenly became forgetful about ridiculous things. About a month ago, I decided I wasn't going to allow my job to drain me this much. I made up my mind, from that point forward, to reconnect with one of my friends once a week. This has been wonderful, but it has also been challenging. I want to invest in relationships and life in general, not just survive at work. However, I can't do it all. So I must risk disappointing people at times, and learning to say no when I don't necessarily want to.

Strangely enough, I feel quite peaceful -- at the moment. However, in the next month, I have an insane number of things going on. My Colorado history class, while fascinating, is demanding a lot more time than I anticipated. I'm going to three weddings, three weekends in a row...one of which is in Guatemala. Of course, that also means three bridal showers to attend and three wedding gifts to purchase! At work, there's a lovely collision of several major projects coming at the same time our team is half-staffed. I don't think I've ever seen such a "perfect storm" brewing at my job. It's quite daunting. So how am I going to face all of this craziness? I suppose it will be the same amazing way I have been getting by for the past two months. 

One day at a time, I see God sustaining me in miraculous ways -- renewing my resolve, filling me with hope and perspective, bringing me encouragement from unexpected places. I really can't do this in my own strength, and I need wisdom to know what to do and when to do it. So far, I feel very peaceful considering the circumstances -- I'm not sure how God does this, but I'm grateful for it. And I'm at least trying to figure out ways to nip the stress in the proverbial bud, like exercising more and spending time writing. 

Right now, I'm listening to the "most relaxing music in the world." I know this because that is the title of the CD I bought from the dollar store last week. This of course is nice, but probably the best way for me to tackle stress in my life is to just have a better understanding (and acceptance) of my limitations. Oh, how glorious that would be...and how utterly terrifying. 

A season to say goodbye

This week marks a momentous time in the history of our family. Yesterday my aunts and uncles moved my grandma from her home of 53 years in Moscow, Idaho, to a retirement home in West Seattle. Grandma's been excited about this for quite a while, and I can't blame her. Since Grandpa passed away in April 2009, she's been alone in that house and many of her friends are no longer there to keep her company.

In fact, Grandma seems to be doing better with this transition from the rest of us. Before I went to the house last week to visit for the last time and to help pack, I dreaded that trip more than I ever have before. It practically was like a funeral, and I found myself grieving just as much as I did when I said goodbye to Grandpa. As I walked in the back door, roamed around the basement, and slept in the little bedroom, memories from the past 31 years came flooding back to me at an overwhelming pace. To me and many of my relatives, this was not just a house made of cement and wood, it was a source of comfort and stability -- always knowing that no matter what chaotic things were going on in your own life, you could come back to this place and feel at home.

Growing up in the town of Moscow, my cousin Amanda and I recently mused, we didn't realize how good we had it. To me it's the kind of all-American small town that you read about in books, and I thought this was normal as a kid. In the fall, the proliferation of maple trees paint the town rich hues of gold and red, and in the spring, East City Park hosts the Renaissance Fair (which was really only a small craft and food fair, but full of fun memories). My mom would usually take me to my grandparents' neighborhood for trick-or-treating on Halloween, since it increased my likelihood of yielding plenty of candy treasure. My cousins and I spent hours at Grandma and Grandpa's house, playing dress-up, working on jigsaw puzzles, and playing the "Marble Game" and "King's Corners."

Once we moved to Colorado when I was 13, visiting Moscow during summer and Christmas vacations was a treat, and it made the house even more precious to me. My grandmother has always been the consummate entertainer and hostess, so every day (not just holidays) was made special and usually involved an assortment of sweets. My family and I recently joked that when you go to Grandma's house, you immediately start craving cookies -- it's like a Pavlovian dog response! She was a master at creating meaningful memories for her family, many of which took place in that house.

My senior year in college, I returned to Moscow and attended University of Idaho on exchange. While it was fun reconnecting with my roots, I regret not spending more time with family -- I was just a busy college student. I remember thinking then, as I visited my grandparents' home, that I didn't know what I would do once they and that house were gone. It was such a painful thought that I could hardly bear it. Isn't it funny that even though we know something will be inevitable at some point, we still think we can avoid it if we just bury it in the recesses of our brains? I knew this day would come, and now it has. As my mom and I drove to Moscow last week, I was crying so hard that I was hyperventilating. It took a great deal of effort just to keep breathing deeply and to not burst into tears multiple times a day.

I knew I had two choices: to face this pain and feel it, which would lead to God's healing, or to stuff it and refuse to accept it, which would lead to unresolved hurt and who knows what else. I took a video and many pictures of the house, which I know will help once the memories begin to fade and I fear that I will forget what it looked like. My relatives were all grieving in their own ways, but we worked together and laughed together. It was a special time that I believed bonded our family in a beautiful way. I never had a chance to go through the healthy, natural steps of grieving when my mom's parents' house burned, and now I had that opportunity.

I'm grateful to still have Grandma, and to be able to visit her in Seattle in the future. I know that the deaths I am facing right now are my Grandpa's, and the death of future memories and experiences in the house they shared for over 50 years. But out of death often comes new life, and I am reminded that people are the true treasures, not physical places or possessions. I know that our family will have to work harder to connect and be more intentional about strengthening our relationships, but I'm looking forward to it.

I'm not done crying over the loss, nor will I be tomorrow. But I want to go through the grieving process in a healthy way. Only God can fill the empty places in our hearts, and bring beauty out of the ashes of our lives.

There is a time for everything,


and a season for every activity under heaven:


a time to be born and a time to die,


a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,


a time to tear down and a time to build,


a time to weep and a time to laugh,


a time to mourn and a time to dance,


a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,


a time to embrace and a time to refrain,


a time to search and a time to give up,


a time to keep and a time to throw away...

Ecclesiastes 3:1-6
 

Goodbye.

"Plans have changed"

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve experienced three different instances in which plans have changed, resulting in varying levels of disappointment. I may seem to handle them maturely on the outside, but inside I have felt like throwing myself down on the ground and pitching a fit worthy of a cranky three-year-old.

The first situation involved postponing plans to travel to Europe this fall. The idea for the trip had surfaced back in the summer of 2008 while I was in China. Since it takes time to save money and accumulate enough vacation time, 2010 sounded like the perfect year to go.

Yet ever since I started dialoging with a friend last fall about it, I’ve understood that plans could change on a dime: what if I lose my job? What if my car decides to call it quits? You can tell yourself that you are holding something loosely, but the true test comes when you actually have to let it go, even if it is only temporarily.

A few weeks ago, reality began to set in. Since I started dreaming about the trip, I’ve accepted the invitations to be a bridesmaid in two weddings this year, both out of town (and one in another country). I’ve also started a long and expensive process of getting a tooth implant. If I tried to still travel to Europe, there would be no margin -- no emergency fund. Not wise. My travel buddy was in agreement -- we wait until next spring.

Next, I heard the sad news that the June 12th U2 concert was postponed until next year because of Bono’s back surgery. Completely understandable, yet still very disappointing. I’ve only been waiting to see U2 in concert since high school, for crying out loud! I guess I can wait yet another year, but…sigh.

At least I can get back into cake decorating this summer, since I have a break from school, I thought. I signed up to take a Fondant and Gum Paste class and bought all of the materials. Lo and behold, the morning of the first day of class, I learned that they cancelled the class because fell one person short of the minimum class size. I’m ashamed to admit that it ruined my entire day. Come on! I don’t want to wait to take it -- I have free time now. (Cue another inner tantrum.)

Of course, these seem to be pretty minor compared to the major disappointments many people have to struggle with: loss of job, prolonged singleness, divorce, childlessness. I don’t want to minimize those very valid areas of pain. However, the minor things are not insignificant --perhaps they are more easily dismissed. You might give yourself permission to grieve a huge disappointment, but not acknowledge the smaller ones. Until they build up, that is.

Then I think, how often we set ourselves up for these situations when we make all these plans and then somehow think they will automatically succeed? Scriptures say “In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps” (Proverbs 16:9) and “Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails” (Proverbs 19:21). We build up our expectations and then hold onto them as if we are entitled to them.

For me, these recent situations were a good reminder that I am not in control of my life. It’s good to make plans and be intentional with your life, as long as you acknowledge that God has His own plans and can take us in a different direction. They don’t always make sense to us in our finite minds, but you can see His hand so many times in those “aha” moments after the fact.

Last Saturday, when I was supposed to be at the outdoor U2 concert, it rained constantly and the high for the day was in the 50s -- what a fun concert that would have been! Instead, I went to a healing conference in Denver that completely blew my mind (another blog post entirely). If the concert had not been cancelled, who’s to say that I would have made it to that conference where I learned and experienced so much? I love those gentle reminders from God that He sees our hurts and broken plans, but He always knows what He is doing.

The Female Dynamics of Insecurity

This post is going to be geared more toward women, so I apologize if any men are reading. Perhaps you will gain some insight into the female mind!

Life has been busy, and unfortunately, my blog has been neglected as a result. But fresh with revelation after attending Beth Moore's simulcast yesterday, I just couldn't help but sit down and pour out some of my thoughts. Beth Moore is one of my favorite Christian authors and speakers, and lest you think I'm some kind of Beth groupie, I have to say it's because she has such a passion for digging into the Bible and revealing God's heart through His Word. Probably a few other people think the same, given that there were 300,000 women attending this simulcast event across North America.

The topic: content from Beth's new book, So Long, Insecurity. The joke was, if you're struggling with insecurity, are you going to feel secure enough to buy a book with that title, or even attend an event like this? So, am I secure enough to write a blog post about my own issues with it?   :-) I know insecurity is a problem for every human being to some extent, but for women it can be rampant and insidious. The sad thing is, it becomes so natural and seemingly part of who you are, you don't always realize that you are insecure. You become an expert at masking it and managing it. I went into the simulcast thinking that there were very few areas in which I was insecure, and since then, God has been revealing more all the time. I've just never identified them before, I guess (except when it comes to writing this blog - as I've mentioned before, this is an area of extreme insecurity for me. But I'm overcoming it word by word!).

I'm glad Beth decided to address this subject, because it is a struggle for so many women. I believe in Christian circles there can be a whole other layer of insecurity based on how good of a Christian woman you are, or at least how you appear to be. We Christians tend to think we have to plaster on a fake smile all the time, right? We think that if we're not perfect, we're defaming the name of Jesus or something, forgetting that Jesus was the only perfect human to walk this earth. It's simply not all right that the people who should be the most devoted to pursuing truth can be the ones most eager to put up a front of perfect living. Anyway, I digress.

Looking around at the hundreds of other women crammed into the church sanctuary yesterday, I had to smile. There is something about women's events: retreats, brunches, bridal and baby showers, you name it -- we feel like we need to look our best. We dress up in our cutest outfits, make sure to do our hair, and take extra care with our makeup. Case in point: I changed clothes several times before deciding on an outfit yesterday. I put on eyeliner, which is rare. Then we drove to the church (even though it is literally a block away from the house) because we didn't want the wind to mess up our hair. Mind you that there are no men around at these events, yet we women primp oftentimes more for each other than we would for men. A curious phenomenon, and I think it can at least partially be attributed to insecurity.

Women are always sizing each other up, for the good and the bad. No one wants to show up for a women's event wearing frumpy gray sweats, because she would feel judged and looked down upon. But every woman wants to hear her friends compliment her new shoes or earrings or whatnot. Now, I'm not saying that all women are petty by any means -- women tend to love showering compliments on each other, and who would want to miss out on that? But the deeper issue can be this lingering feeling of inadequacy among women -- there's always another person who has a better body, stronger family, deeper spirituality, and we can never measure up to them. It ties back to the comparison game, many times. We crave a certain validation from other women that affirms our femininity.

Here's a confession of mine: while it might be pathetic, it is honest, and I believe many others can relate. As a single woman, I can't express how uncomfortable I can feel in a mixed group of women. I think that so much "womanhood" is associated with the role of wife and mother that I feel like I'm an outsider looking into some exclusive "club." Like I don't "belong" because I'm not married and I don't have kids. So when I go to an event like this, I always notice those who are wearing wedding rings, and those who are not. It helps me gauge where I stand in the crowd. If there are a majority of single women like myself, I feel at more at ease. If there are more married women, I feel like more of a circus freak. And I hope that they won't notice I'm single or start with the well-meaning "I can't believe you don't have a boyfriend" spiel.  

I recall a few years ago experiencing a bit of a "light bulb" moment. I was in a small group with two close friends who had recently married. They made a comment that they felt inadequate compared to other women because even though they were married, they had no children. There seemed to be a huge disconnect between "childless" women and mothers, not unlike the common disconnect between married and single women. From what they had observed, it didn't stop there. Once you had children, then you started comparing them to other's children (who walked sooner, who got their black belt in karate, etc.). So in the world of women, there always seems to be some kind of one-upmanship -- and it can just keep spiraling downward if you don't try to counteract it. Otherwise, where does it end? Not in a good place, for sure.

It begs the question -- why are we so concerned about what others think of us? What other women think of us? Are we that needy that we have to secure our "place" in society or gain other's approval in order to think better of ourselves? I know that I will be the most secure when I am looking to God to meet these needs and not to others. And I will feel the most alive when I strive to become who God created me to be and to accept my uniqueness and design instead of trying to become someone else. But to beat back the forces of insecurity by refusing to cater to it -- that's going to take, as Beth said, some serious intentionality. A good challenge for all of us women.

Is your next passion sitting on the back burner?

Do you ever feel like in the busyness of life, you're always putting things on the back burner? As in, someday I'd like to learn how to paint, when I have the time. "The time" is an undetermined point in the future that can be weeks, months, years, or never. How many times does this thing always stay on the "back burner" and never come to fruition?

For years, I had wanted to take a cake decorating class. I missed an opportunity to take one right before I moved to Colorado Springs, and then I never got around to doing it once I relocated. Last winter, I was experiencing a bit of a lull -- no exciting trips to plan, not much going on. And I remembered how much I wanted to take cake decorating, so I used Christmas money and signed up for a class at Hobby Lobby, a nearby craft store.

I ended up taking two 4-week courses in a row, and ended up unearthing a new favorite hobby! I learned how to make borders, roses, basketweave, you name it. And I also started learning more about baking cakes -- what makes them fall apart, what makes them moist, how can you add ingredients to cake mixes to make delicious flavors. Before I knew it, I was making cakes for friends and family: birthdays, bridal showers, baby showers, graduations.

I realized that by doing cake decorating, I was combining several of my passions:

• I love baking and enjoy the challenge of trying new recipes.
• I reconnect with my artistic side by creating new and unique cake designs.
• I enjoy blessing people with cakes in their honor (gift giving and acts of service are my love languages).

Now, why didn't I do this years ago? If I had known how much joy I would receive, and give to others, perhaps I would have. But you never know until you take the initiative to pull things off the back burner. What is on your back burner right now? Is it time to just take the plunge and do it?

Next on my horizon? I just might take up the violin. One of these days.