On Anxiety, Part One: Doubt

I have dreaded the month of April.

In the same exact time frame, I lost five of my strongest baristas, and began training four absolutely new staff members (yes, half my staff).  Not to mention the Boss Lady in the Accounting Office is also out of the country. Add onto that three commission art projects that are due at the same time.

I tried not to panic, and I rolled my eyes at the attempt. I thought about all the things that need to be done, how much time I have, while completely aware that setting healthy boundaries and resting are my weaknesses.  Oh yes, I absolutely panicked.  I'd trail down worst-case scenarios.  I'd repetitively think about how much I dread all the micro-managing/quality control that comes with training.  I groan and I get unmotivated and I can't sleep and I want to binge-watch British time period miniseries while eating chips and then vent out my frustrations on gracious, innocent bystanders (read: Wes and my family).  And eat more chips.

I was the embodiment of anxiety: an unpleasant state of inner turmoil, a dread of anticipated events.

Worst of all, anxiety is so taxing, that by the time I reach said event, I am exhausted- physically, emotionally, mentally.  And it's straight-up annoying.

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At the brink of April, I had a very big, life-changing decision to make.  And that was the pinnacle of my anxiety.  I was so worried about the confrontation, that it would become personal instead of logistical.  I feared the repercussions, the long-term effects, even the way people would perceive me.  I felt misunderstood before I had a chance to defend myself.

Basically, anxiety is brought about by the lack of control: not being able to monitor or know the outcome of certain events creates a shaking restlessness of "what ifs?" and acting as if the worst has already been carved in stone.  And this was me.

And the lack of control signifies a lack of trust in the One who does have control.  I'm not allowing myself to believe in His goodness or in His care for me.  Surely, a bulk of the Christian's anxiety is that "what if God didn't really say?" or "what if I heard Him wrong?" or "what if He didn't really speak, what if this is my flesh?"

The lack of trust is, at that point, borne by whether we know God and actually hear from Him.  And that's a hard matter to give replicate answers for.  Our relationship with God operates by faith, thus, for the rest of our lives, we'll be questioning just like Adam and Eve felt in the garden - did God really say?


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The question of "Did God really say" is the underestimated root of what distances us from God, what shakes our trust and insists on fear.  Whether this may be theologically sound or not, I do think that the first temptation in the garden was not the apple to Eve, but was the moment when the serpent said, "Did God really say....?" because the temptation then lies in whether or not we can believe what God says, even if He hasn't explained His reasons (did God explain to Adam and Eve the full repercussions of their decisions?).  It's the seed of doubt; doubt, the exact opposite of faith.

And it wasn't just in the garden that this happened, this also happened with the Second Adam, Jesus Christ, when he had no repertoire of ministry, was baptized.

[Then] A voice from Heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love, in Him, I am well-pleased."

Matthew 3:17

Following this glorious occurrence, Jesus went to the wilderness, where the enemy came to tempt Him with the whole notion of "Did God really say?"  The enemy asked Jesus "If you are the Son of God.." It's the temptation to doubt what was just spoken.  The temptation to doubt our worth. Was that not the struggle in Eden?  God gave a command, a Word, a truth, and immediately the enemy comes, tempting us to believe otherwise.

Similar to the struggle in the Garden and the Desert, we face the temptation of control, and to taste control makes us less apt to trust someone else with control.  We face the temptation of pride, and to reveal what we are capable of doing makes it hard to step back and admit "I am incapable."  We face the temptation of hunger, that is, the cravings of the flesh, and to satiate its desires makes us dull towards the counter simplicity.

As Jesus did come to earth to redeem all things, even the fall of man, His response to the temptation was neither argument nor offense, but rather "It is written." Jesus was presented with the temptation to doubt, and He points to the unchanging, infallible Holy Scriptures.  This too becomes our ammunition.

In the moment where we question the voice of God, we have His tangible Scriptures.  Will you find out what you're supposed to eat tomorrow?  No, but the Word says not to worry because we are provided for.  Will you find out what you're supposed to do for a career?  No, but the Word defines our identity in Christ (Epistles), and He also describes how to gain wisdom/discernment (Proverbs, James).  Will you know how people will react to your confrontations?  No, but the Word spells out how to react in adversity.

It's easy to doubt an unseen God, and this pulls us down in anxiety.  We may have been the First Adam, but we are redeemed by a Second Adam.  We can believe what He says.  We can let go of control.  We can trust in an unseen God.


xo

From hesitation to action

currently reading: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
currently watching: Death Comes to Pemberly
currently listening: Leon Bridges

the very belated birthday post.

So my birthday was last month, right at the beginning of the great month of feBREWary.  I do try to avoid it at all costs; I'm not much of a celebratory human, and the introvert that I am absolutely loves closing in, making it a meaningful and personal time, seeking and meditating and being quiet.  My birthday is usually when I do some earnest praying - what will You do in my life this year?  How can I expect to grow?  Where will I find You this year?

I knew a few things surely: I would take courage to pursue my dreams, find joy in contentment, and grow in resilience.

With that word barely escaping my mouth, I was suddenly hit with the definition of resilience:

able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching, or being compressed.

I wanted to cry at the revelation of how much I know I'll be crying this year.
And sure enough, it's the brink of springtime, and this year has been so hard.  I've cried more in the past two months than I have in five years.  I've experienced deep, irreplaceable losses, brokenness in myself, and brokenness in my relationships.  I've felt so absolutely discouraged about what I do, and I've been questioning who I am.  I've been doubting my strength, and I'm more aware of my weaknesses.  I've had a slew of physical infirmities from hives that coat me like red paint, to numbing sciatica, to the worsening of my chronic tendinitis.  There were three deaths/funerals last month, and I even faced the difficult decision of putting my sweet dog down.  I'm horribly terrified of the loss and pain yet to happen, and as much as it humbles me to admit, I've lost a lot of my heart and hope in the process.

And all the while, I am trying to press into God and understand His love in all of this.  I'm trying to pray more and read the Word more and declare His Truth more.  I'm trying to be honest with those around me, and even more so, honest with myself.

poignant, accurate, staged, but not far from how I was found.

My wise roommate and I were talking the other night about our attitudes, of the reality that happiness truly is a choice.  And the things that happen to us, regardless of how tragic or wrong or unjust they are, should not dictate our attitudes.  We know who we are.  We know who we were created to be.  We know the impact of a heart at peace and a soul at rest.  We recognize the power of a transformed mind.  And for these things, we can have joy.  We can choose joy.

To choose joy doesn't mean that the things that happened (or are happening) to us aren't wrong, nor does it justify the harsh situations we find ourselves in.  It does not mean we must become comfortable or content in our situation, or that we can't be honest with our hurts.  The act of choosing to be happy is not a conscious act of ignoring the tension, or the need for confrontation.  In fact, the life of joy is to know an inner freedom, and even crave it for even those around us.  So, living a life of freedom solicits the need for confrontation, and necessitates the courage to stand up for ourselves and/or move on.  To have joy is not disabling and careless, but rather, it is empowering and electrifying.  We can be Joseph who, through the prison bars, could still see stars, and dream and hope and minister to our adversaries while maintaining integrity.  We can have joy in "famine, persecution, and sword," we can be the caged bird that sings.



I see now why God told me those things at the beginning of my 29th year: courage to pursue my dreams, find joy in contentment, and grow in resilience.  And I know I will need this piece of writing as a map back to freedom.  Because I say all these things, and yet, tomorrow and the next day and the next, I will still be in the face of the very same issues that existed this morning.

But I am choosing not to be the same person tomorrow as I have been today.  I don't want to keep living as I always have, and being dismayed as I frequently have.  I'm choosing resilience.  I'm choosing joy.

xo




currently reading: Erwin McManus, Artisan Soul
currently listening: The Brilliance, Lent

Musings on the Modern Church. Pt 3.

My final thoughts on the Modern Church - well actually, the Church as a whole, but I might as well piggy-back on my previous two posts, paralleling with my experience in Specialty Coffee.

Happy feBREWary!

Part 1 and Part 2.

[3]

Everyone has their own reasons behind their church commitment preferences.  Sure, I don't have a history sampling numerous denominations.  And that being said, I've learned that I can't discredit what God is doing, simply because it's different than how He works in my life.  I'm not entitled to judge the worship of others, I have no right to declare that my way of connecting with God is better, more efficient, more loved - the Abel sacrifice.  I've come to terms that God has a way of working in my life, and I can celebrate that.  He has a way of working in other churches, and I can celebrate that.

Just as every human is made in God's image, and yet all of us are absolutely different, so churches (made up of humans) are all different and still aim to point to Christ, even if they have to use a different approach - because they are made of different people. 

Some specialty coffee shops are incredibly successful because they are nested in progressive cities.  And some modern churches are growing exponentially because they are surrounded by the ones who need this kind of bread. We at Surfers Coffee Bar know that we love specialty coffee, but we also know we need to reach our local demographic; we cannot survive on Direct Trade, Pourovers, and Extraction alone.  We've to terms with what we are, and what we aren't.  I'm sure many churches have had to make that same definition.  

Ultimately, whoever walks into the doors of Surfers, we are asked to serve.  Some things I won't compromise on (will not make an iced cappuccino, or any cappuccino over 8oz) (also will not ask my church to preach a prosperity gospel).  I can make sugary drinks, I can make traditional drinks, and I know the facts about coffee if I needed to discuss it.  My hope with the churches I agree less with, is that they'll keep traditional theology, and their leaders know God intimately enough to share His heart.

The conclusion to this entire elaboration is that it isn't my place to judge, or place my connection with God in a higher regard.  Snobby coffee shops shut people out.  And snobby churches shut people out.  Snobbery in general is a natural deterrent.  I am still allowed to disagree - gracefully.  I am still allowed to hold onto what I believe in.  I am still urged to be open to conviction, open to the voice of the Spirit.  And in the places I do not hear Him, even in a church, it's still my position to bless and not curse, to uplift in prayer and not to dismantle by criticism.

There's probably a good reason if you ever find me at a Modern Church.  It's not really my thing.  And yet, I know God is present there.  I also know that God has never expected me to look or be a certain way before I can approach Him; so as mercy has been given to me, so I shall extend to others.

But as it is, God arranged the members in His Body, each one of them, as He chose.... The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you.".. You are the body of Christ.
I Corinthians 12.

And Paul continues in the infamous chapter 13, to show us the most excellent way - to love.



xo