Mine

Today is a broken day.

There are always days like this that roll around, some worse than others. But nonetheless, it is a broken day.

It's the kind of day where all the lies that are constantly whispered in my ear get turned up a notch. Or twenty. Instead of the sinister, underlying current of lies, there's a roar in my ears, telling me how inadequate, how overly needy, how not enough I am. I hate that.

I know they're lies, I really do. But they feel true. And maybe some of them have some truth to them. Those are the hard ones to ignore. 

I just keep trying to shove them away, or justify them to appease these roaring thoughts. 

But only truth, real truth, can silence them.

As I sat, trying to distract myself away, a whisper penetrates the din of voices..."Mine," He says.

"Mine," He says to the voices, the liar who is filling my brain, trying to claim me as his.

"Mine," He says to me as I try to not listen while simultaneously falling apart because it's all I can hear.

"Mine," He declares over me, not because I am His in this moment, but because I always have been and always will be. And no amount of lies makes that not true.

David calls out to God for help because of his enemies many times. I've never related to it, honestly. Until this.

Be not silent, O God of my praise! For wicked and deceitful mouths are opened against me, speaking against me with lying tongues. They encircle me with words of hate, and attack me without cause.

Psalm 109:1-3

There is always a great battle for my mind, my heart. It is waged anywhere and everywhere. Nothing is off limits to this enemy of mine. He is not compassionate, but goes right for the throat.

But I am not without a protector. The war is won, even if the battle rages. 

Blood has covered me, hidden me, made me whole, made these lies that could be true...untrue.

And He declared me "His." 

It is a mystery I will never understand, but I'll try. It is too glorious for comprehension, but it is my reality. 

Oh, Praise the one who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead!

Peace

Anxiety.

It can hit at any moment for any reason and sometimes for no reason at all. People who struggle with anxiety (and let's face it, we all have at some point) have all the verses about anxiety memorized backwards and forwards. They've been quoted to us so much that we probably get to a point where it feels like we're mouthing the words as it's being quoted.

Anxiety has been my constant companion in some form or another. Maybe it's not always that panicky, heart beating fast, cold sweat anxiety. It shows up sometimes in my desire for others to like me. It shows up when I sit and imagine all the could-bes. It shows up when I am dissatisfied in my circumstances.

Not everyone's anxiety is about control. Mine is. I hate to write that, I hate to admit that I have control issues. Because that sounds so type A, and really, I'm not type A. I'm not.

But I want to control it all. Or at least, I'm ok with not controlling it, per se, so long as it goes how I want it to.

Then this morning these verses rub right up against what I have struggled with:

The Lord is at hand, do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:5-7

You probably skimmed it, right? Because we've all heard it. And struggled with it. And decided to just kind of leave it there, because it's too hard to reconcile what this verse says with our realities. I know I have done that.

I have had anxiety because I struggle with God's goodness. Not his goodness in general, but his goodness to me. God is good to others, and I am a leftover. So this whole "making my requests known to God thing" feels futile. Because when you're a leftover, you're just grateful you got in and try not to focus on how you're less than. 

And yet sometimes, with my hands shaking from anxiety, worst-case scenarios flooding my brain, I struggle because I know that he's the giver of all things. But how do I control what happens to me if I ask, and he says no? What if I follow the formula and still nothing happens. How do I protect myself from this very unpredictable, unsafe God?

How do I guard my heart from the God of heaven dashing my hopes and dreams against the rocks of his mighty will?

When you can mouth the words, but not understand them, it's a new level of ignorance.

The answer is at the end. If I make my requests known, then he provides the peace. I thought I had to do the good Christian girl thing and ask, but make sure at the end I say "thy will be done" and then brace for the inevitable blow to my fragile soul when he says no. Sure, I'll ask you, but I'll just be sitting right here out of reach in case you decide to actually do your will. 

He is the giver of all things. Even the things that I thought I had to bring to the table. Peace. He is the giver of peace, even if his answer is no. It isn't up to me to muster up peace, it's not up to me to guard my own heart. He is trustworthy. And if he is trustworthy, then I can ask freely, without feeling like my soul's well-being is dependent on the answer I want. He sees and equips, fills us to the brim and then keeps filling us. 

And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth. And he shall be their peace.

Micah 5:4-5

He himself is our peace.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

I woke up with this in my head:

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

It took me about 2 hours off and on of singing it to listen to the words coming out of my own mouth.

It's not a secret that I struggle with joy. Having it, knowing what it is....it seems a mystery. He is teaching me, slowly. 

It's not a coincidence that I woke up this morning with those words on my mind and an overhanging feeling of guilt and shame, not for any particular reason. It comes in waves, washing over, consuming and carrying me out to the depths. 

And yet, before I knew I needed it, I had the answer already there, in the form of an old Christmas song. And it's not even Thanksgiving yet. 

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

Me, being me, immediately thought of what an amazing song this was for Israel. (Not that I think they sung this exactly, but probably something like it). After all those years of wandering, captivity, and silence, they are ransomed. It was done. But a lot of them missed it. I might venture to say that most of them missed it, straining to see past the weird guy on the cross to see when the real salvation was coming. Only a few got it. Only a few sang the song.

And then I got ahead of myself. "Won't we rejoice when He comes for us, when he ransoms us?" 

Instead of calling me fool, he just said, "Hey...look."

Isn't what I am anticipating, that day when we can finally rejoice...didn't that already happen? 

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

Does my salvation from my captivity of sin, my guilt and shame heaped upon my head, mean any less than it did for Israel? Is it that commonplace for me?

Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter collide. Doesn't the joy I need come from the daily living of these three things?

He has come, it is finished. My soul gives thanks for what he has done. 

May he cause joy to roll forth from our lips. May our eyes be not downcast. May he fill us with the knowledge of him. Wondrous are your deeds, Oh Lord!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

Brokenness Aside

Sometimes I can convince myself that I've moved past some issue...until it rears it's ugly head, showing me that I had pacified it, but not destroyed it.

I believe lies. I believe them easily, freely. I soak them up as truth and allow them to permeate my soul, my perspective, my worship. I don't know why, but I lap them up as truth, baptizing myself in them.

A friend sent me a text this morning: You believe a lot of lies. I already knew this but I had convinced myself that I had somehow managed to either hide that, justify it away, or "right-answered" it away. Wait, I lied to myself? Yup.

I can blame it on so many things, this propensity to absorb lies. I have been under attack for a long time. The enemy is cunning, seeking those he may devour and he has certainly found me to be a tasty snack. Just one quick deceitful thought and there I go down the path of worst case scenarios. He has been grooming me to respond to his lies since I was little when he would present me with the many awful ways a person could die and convincing me that it would most assuredly happen to me. He has upped his game, attacking me more personally, more aggressively. And because I've grown accustomed to his voice, I soak it up.

When my friend sent me that text this morning, an image and a phrase popped in my head. I am standing at the foot of the cross, facing away and the phrase "You wear your lies like a crown of thorns". And sure enough I see on my head this crown of thorns and bracelets of thorns and shackles of thorns, afflicting me, turning me away from Jesus. I punish myself for my perceived worthlessness by inflicting on myself what has been accomplished at the cross. I somehow feel like I should be the martyr because what he has done is not enough.

At the same time, I read in Hebrews this:

For it was indeed fitting that we should have such a high priest, holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens. He has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once for all when he offered up himself.

Hebrews 7:26-27

He is enough. What he did was more than enough to cover over my multitude of sins and everyone else's too. So when I crucify myself, it takes away the glory of what he has done. Behold, it is finished. He is making all things new. He is making me new. May he change me to reject lies and to hold onto the truth of his enough-ness, his everlasting covenant that he made with me that day at the cross.

Because I am a sinner

If it's not one thing it's another

Caught up in words

Tangled in lies

You are a Savior

And you take brokenness aside

And make it beautiful

Beautiful