Archive for the The Journey Category

I was riding my bicycle down the street. Minding my own business. When low and behold I saw a live animal on the side of the road. It is a rare occurrence to see a living creature so near the murderous pavement. I assumed he would scurry away as I rode closer. Instead, he reared up on his hind legs, opened his mouth and bared his very long teeth. The next thing I knew, there was a chomp on my (thankfully!) sturdy leather cycling shoes and a thwump in the spokes of my bike. I stopped abruptly to ensure the ferocious young groundhog was not injured, but all I got for my tender loving care was a nasty look and some raucous chatter. He then scurried into the long grass and infamy.

Have you ever felt threatened? Did you bite first and ask questions later?

Emotions are powerful little animals that fill us with all manner of feelings and refuse to be ignored. They appear cute and cuddly one moment, but are able transform into violent monsters the next. In such moments we have little composure because our gut response overtakes our better judgement to practice self-control.

The art of discipline

“But I say walk by the Spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” – Galatians 5:16

I’ve spent the past ten years trying to master my food obsessions with some measure of success. One important lesson I learned early on was to plan ahead. “Fail to plan or plan to fail.” I purchased vegetables and fruit, and was thoughtful about my meals for the week. I avoided junk foods in the grocery store anything with processed sugar. The elimination of sugar helped me learn what true hunger was (by eliminating blood sugar spikes and crashes!). Needless to say, I put a lot of thought and energy into what I planned to eat so that I would lose weight.

This did not come naturally to me. I am an emotional, impulse driven girl. See food. Eat it. Crave food. Eat it. Even with the rhythm of repetition, I struggled to make healthy choices. I especially hated to exercise. It was a means to an end. It hurt. It chaffed. It bothered me! Because I was so miserable, I learned how to pray and ask God for help. I listened to scriptures that reassured me of God’s love and care for me. And to be really vulnerable, I fell in love with God in a way I never would have otherwise. He walked with weak, dejected, obese Margaret and never rejected me. More importantly, he answered my cries for help. Why do I write all of that? (Regular readers are yawning with boredom right now and thinking me braggadocious. But I promise that is not my intent.)

I bit my husband on Wednesday when he rode his bike too close.

There. I said it. Well, not actually with my teeth, but I’m sure it hurt just as much. And well, he wasn’t actually on a bicycle. I was in the middle of an emotional moment while exercising on my yoga mat when he tersely asked, “What did you do with my clean towels?” I could tell by his tone of voice that I was about to get a lecture. So I let him have it. Four letter words and all. And he did not take it kindly so he cursed back. I then cried for the next 30 minutes–not because I felt guilty–but because I was finally able to express all of the emotions I’ve been bottling up since Coronavirus swallowed my hope, and George Floyd was killed.

People lash out when they are afraid or about to be injured. It is a natural human response. But I believe there is a better way. Just as people say to me, “Margaret, it is impossible to lose weight” they will say, “Margaret, it is impossible to restrain my emotions.” So today I am going to make a case for doing just that.

Our culture has glorified the emotional outburst. We even have fluffy words for it, “all the feels”. We seem to have forgotten the virtue of restraint. Or we simply aren’t interested. The problem is, civil discourse is a very real casualty and I believe that is partly the cause for the division in our country. I realize we all have different value systems, but if we can’t find a way to communicate and compromise in order to achieve unity, we are doomed.

What is the Solution?

We must learn to walk by the Spirit. Much the same way I learned to plan ahead to eat, we can learn to plan ahead to prevent emotional outbursts. How does this work, you ask?

Prayer

Why prayer?  Because we need to ask God for help. Now maybe you are thinking that’s ridiculous and we have it within our capacity to just be nicer, calmer and generally more genial. Several friends of mine will even insert the practice of meditation and other soul-soothing exercises. But I would (civilly) rebut that idea because I believe what the bible says about people being “dead in our trespasses.” We simply can’t sustain “good” behavior because of our depraved nature. We are consumers and when threatened, well, we bite. We need to ask for the power of God to help us overcome our sinful nature before we get emotionally perturbed. It is only by His power that we can manifest the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I have learned that when I properly prepare for uncivil situations, I have the peace of God that enables me to remain calm. This peace is rooted in the knowledge that Jesus purchased my pardon (cause Heaven knows I’m guilty of sin!) so that I might extend that grace to others. I know of no other means by which to bless those who persecute me and not to curse them.

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12: 20-21

In conclusion, my dear Ground Hogs, we are all guilty of biting first and asking questions later. Shoot. Some of us don’t even ask questions. We just go around biting and devouring one another. But I have good news! There is another way. The way of peace is a real path we can choose to walk. And even better, we do not walk it alone. Jesus himself will be our companion and He will give us the strength to obey His commands. We simply have to surrender our emotions to Him and let him replace our pain with His peace.

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

I heard metal twist and scrape in a cacaphony of sound from inside the safety of my home. It was 5:50 am, long before I meant to be awake. The evil machinations of an 11-year-old munchkin had awakened me, but more sinister events were in play. A young man had been speeding when he lost control of his vehicle and crashed head on into my neighbor’s car. When I walked outside I saw him running down the street and away from accountability. I dialed 911 and waited for police as I considered my friends and their reaction to their totaled vehicle. I grieved and thought, it could just as easily have been my car.

Have you ever caused a wreck and run away? Did you speed and hide? Did you hope no one saw you? Did you care little about the carnage you caused? Or on the flip side, were you the victim of a “hit and run”? Were you left standing in the rubble of the careless actions of a stranger? Did you weep over the destruction of your property and pray for justice? 

Britney Spears once sang, “I’m not that innocent”. She made light of toying with the affections of a young man, as if teasing and pretending to love someone was casual entertainment. The song was in the top 10 Pop charts in the US and went to number one in more than a dozen countries, which is a good indication of how much people liked it. But the lyrics point to a more serious question.

Britney Spears is “not that innocent.”

I have a lot of questions for my friend, Britney, but first and foremost I would ask, “why do you rationalize your search for a ‘hero’ as an excuse to abuse someone?”

Now maybe you are reading this and thinking, “Margaret, why would you even bother to philosophize a pop song? It’s supposed to be catchy and make me want to dance in my living room.”

Dear Reader, don’t you know our thought patterns are governed by the information we choose to consume?

The videos began circulating a few weeks ago and everyone was quick to pick a side. Each person formed an opinion based on their own life experience and began “speeding down the wet road.” Before you could say “hydroplane” the verbal fireworks began. All the social justice warriors began trying to convince everyone their opinion was the correct one. We suspended reason, grabbed our cymbals, and started clanging.

We say, “We’re all in this together” but the reality couldn’t be further from the truth. When I go to the grocery store, I see people shaking with fear and with rage. People back away when approached, and if one person is not wearing a mask, the mask-wearer glares daggers through one with a naked face. I’ve seen beltless-boys with their pants around their knees receive kinder looks than my mask-less friends. I want to wave a white flag. I want to call a truce. I want to invite people to think past their feelings. But I’m too busy running away from the swirl of negative emotions and back to my house where we can beat each other up in peace.

Meanwhile, relatives are unfriending each other on Facebook. People from church are arguing about conspiracy theories, and everyone has a “justified” opinion on the best path out of this horror movie. Why do we feel comfortable verbally bludgeoning everyone who doesn’t agree with our perspective. When did America turn into The Hunger Games? And when did we all begin emulating President Snow?

“Why Margaret, that’s pretty harsh. Don’t you realize we need to get to the truth? This is serious. And besides, I am Katniss! I am trying to protect my neighbor. They just need to get “woke” to my way of thinking. Then, I can love them.”

Polite discourse is dead. It was burned at the stake with the fuel of our mistrust. Fake news is the red flag flying high at the top of the pole and our neighbors are the kindling. Meanwhile we scream, “Throw another body on the fire and see how bright it burns!”

It feels like we violate neighbor love for our own amusement–and more prevalently than we might realize. The memes say, “if you don’t post to defend “fill-in-the-blank”, I can’t be your friend, while somehow suggesting that by doing so, everything will be okay. 

In our haste to protect ourselves and those we love, we have forgotten something important: we all die. We are all terminal. And there is no vaccine that will cure us. In the meantime, we are drowning in a sea of despair and our ideology is not proving to be an effective floatation device. Do we really think groping around the shoulders of our neighbors is going to help anything?

We are all in the same boat as Britney–dreaming and wishing that heroes truly exist.

“And he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. And as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written, ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, ‘Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” – Luke 4:16-21

Jesus made an audacious claim; He was the Son of God.

“Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And behold, I am sending the promise of my Father upon you. But stay in the city until you are clothed with power from on high.” Luke 24:45-49

The “power” He promised was the Holy Spirit for those who believe. It is the ‘good deposit’, the guarantee of what is to come. It is not a wishful hope. The Holy Spirit is God choosing to dwell in us until Jesus returns and take us to live with him in paradise.

This is the only hill I am willing to die on. I may be wrong about everything else, but I have staked my life on the blood of Jesus.

My husband says I like to fight; namely, to disagree. It’s true. I have perfected the art of hydroplaning and crashing into my neighbors car, both literally and philosophically. And it is only by the grace of God that I have managed to evade jail, or worse; scorn. Today, if you are behind the wheel and careening down the road, slow down! But if it’s too late and you have already crashed into your neighbor, take heart! “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” – 1 John 1:9

It is true that loves covers a multitude of sins, so from my heart to yours: Grace and peace be yours in abundance today!

“And he told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart.” Luke 18:1

Have you ever been lost in the dark? Have you fumbled around in your bedroom at night and bonked your face on your bed post? Has your flashlight gone dim in the woods when you were trying to find a path back to your camp sight? Have you ventured into a cave on a dare only to discover the horror of a darkness you can actually taste?

The darkness of depression is like that. When the cloud descends on the brain, the mind startles to comprehend what is happening. Then it struggles with vigor to find the light, only to discover the battery in the flashlight has gone dead. The soul hopes for a while, then despairs. If it goes on for long enough, the will to live dies.

It is very difficult to “not lose heart” in those circumstances. When painful conditions in life make it difficult to see the good, we must look outside ourselves for hope.

Depression is real and it is more than a simple sadness.

The pandemic has revealed to many—myself included—the unbearable nature of isolation. It has also revealed the inability for many to comprehend the suffering of those who chronically struggle with the darkness.

Last Friday I received news of two suicides. One was a friend and the father of my nieces and nephew. Steve was a fun loving, jolly sort of fellow. I enjoyed his company immensely. He was smart, witty, and quick with a compliment. I remember early in my journey when I ran into him at the grocery store. He got this big grin on his face and said, “Margaret, you are looking really good. Good job!” There was something in his chemistry that made him a joy to be around. When I heard his light had gone out, I felt the darkness more deeply.

The other was a man I did not know but whose ministry impacted many Christians. His name was Darrin Patrick. He was an influential religious leader who was married with four children. He founded the Journey church in St. Louis. A friend of his told me he was insightful about scriptures and courageous with the gospel message. He was a pastor to many and a good man.

When I learned about the deaths of these men, I knew their pain. I have been fumbling through the darkness for a few weeks now. I have reached out to various friends and sought comfort in the scriptures. But the darkness remained—as it often does. (If you are not a regular reader, I write frequently of my struggles with depression.)

My cries for help in the darkness were met with varying responses. My chiropractor told me my serotonin levels were low and gave me a supplement to try (along with acupuncture). I went running and cycling—which helped for an hour or two. I listened to sermons on resilience. I listened to the testimony of women who have suffered and survived. But at the end of the day, I fell into bed with the same thought in my mind: I can’t do this anymore.

One morning I woke early and went for a run. The thought, “I can’t do this anymore” was pounding in my head with the force of a mallet pushing a nail through oak. It was early so I called a friend I knew would be awake and asked her to pray for me. I wept as she reminded me that the devil is real and this thought was a lie. She rebuked the spirit of death and prayed peace over me. But the depression did not lift. I arrived home exhausted and not experiencing any peace whatsoever.

I feel naked writing such things. But I don’t write for pity. I share to shed light for those who have never walked in the darkness. Depression is irrational. It is a sneaky thief that steals all hope. And when we lose hope inside ourselves, we have to look outside ourselves for help.

“As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. And hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by. And he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’ and Jesus stopped and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he came near, he asked him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ He said, ‘Lord, let me recover my sight.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.’ And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” – Luke 18:35-43

My niece wrote on Facebook of her father, “I should have been your peace.” Many people who love a depressed person echo her thoughts. We want to help those who are suffering. We want to ease their pain. But the love and compassion of people cannot heal the hopeless heart. I know because they have not healed mine. Steve and Darrin had so many people who loved them but, in the end, the death-loving whisperers poisoned their minds and led them into madness. For this is what suicide is: madness!

So, we cry out like the blind man to Jesus, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

The gospel message that Jesus brought from heaven to earth was the purest form of love that ever existed. He said, “For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me: And he was numbered with the transgressors. For what is written about me has its fulfillment.” (Luke 22:37) He was referencing the prophet Isaiah who wrote in the middle of the 6^th century, “Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors.” (Isaiah 53:12)

But Margaret, you say, what does this mean? What does it have to do with me? What does some stuff a weird old guy wrote thousands of years ago matter? I am in pain NOW. I have lost hope NOW. I can’t go on TODAY.

Jesus was the son of God. He came to earth to take our sins and be punished for them on the cross. The wrath of God (his father) was poured out on him so that we might have peace. That is why he is called the Prince of Peace. He purchased our pardon. He saw our suffering in the form of regret. He knew our inability to stop drinking, our unwillingness to stop stealing, our stubborn, hard-hearted frustration with people who are repeatedly hateful to us. So, he left the throne room of Heaven and took on a frail human body and was tortured to death for you and for me. He hung on the cross and looked out into time for everyone who has struggled and said, “I died so that you might live!”

And then, HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD!

I sat down at the piano this morning and played a song I learned as a child. It is a song that comes to mind every time the darkness thickens. It is the light of hope sent from the Holy Spirit in times of deepest distress. I sing it when hope is far away to remind me that I am loved. When people fail me, when friends forsake me, when even my church family grows weary of my sighing, Jesus never does. I am copying the link to my video here. I am not a professional musician but I wanted to be completely vulnerable with my readers (so don’t tell me I’m off key!). This is what depression looks like. This is the hope we have in Jesus. We sing with exuberance and confidence, “You said you’d come and share all my sorrows. You said you’d be there for all my tomorrows. And Jesus said, Come to the water, stand by my side. I know you are thirsty, you won’t be denied. I felt every teardrop when in darkness you cried and I came to remind you, that for those tears I died.”

Do not lose heart, my friends. He is with us and for us. And if you don’t know him, cry out today, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And He will shine the light of the knowledge of the glory of God into your heart and make your blind eyes see.

This blog is dedicated to the memory of Steve Eisman and Darrin Patrick – I wish you had eyes to see.