Lessons of 2015

On my way home from work yesterday, I listened to Bernie Roth on Tech Nation and he said:

It's ok to fail.  It's not ok not to learn.

Like many of us, I am looking back at 2015, and have one outstanding descriptor: it was hard.  And a hard year doesn't mean it was a bad year, it just means I've faced difficulties and chose to brave the struggle.  And in many ways, I have both failed and learned a lot, and there are still countless things I am still learning.

I have a hard time writing down resolutions for this new year, because achieving a list of things that I could not do previously can somewhat be.. well.. disappointing.  I think that's why we give up so easily come mid-February.  Instead, what I like to do is celebrate the things that I have learned, and allow myself to look at this list and say: yes, I DID accomplish this, and it IS possible to still bring this into the new year.  So without further preface, here are my lessons from 2015 that I'll still be learning for a while:

1. I learned that in order to embrace a new life, you need to leave what you know.  I learned that we need to grieve good things.  And sometimes, we treat these transitions as horrendous divorces, when we can really treat them as graduations.  They are moments to celebrate, and to keep the "souvenirs" of what was good, learn from what was bad, and to move on.  And the thing about graduations is that everything is new - the surroundings, the circumstances, and you.  You learn to adapt. You grow.  You move on.







2. I realized how much my life decisions were based off of accommodating people and making them happy with me.  I learned (will still be learning) that I cannot please everyone.  There is a point when I need to make decisions for myself and my future.  Not out of selfish ambition, but out of obedience to a bigger calling.







3. I understand rest.  God did not rest after 6 days of creating because He was tired, but because He said it was good.  I understand that true rest comes from contentment and being satisfied.  I am a workaholic- sometime it is for the love of the work, and sometimes because I am dissatisfied.  And in the times I am dissatisfied, I need to ask myself - why am I working so hard?  What am I trying to prove, and to who?  I am learning to work from a place of peace, and allow for the moments of rest.







4. "Love what you do." There's the millennial mindset to "Do what you love," but for a hustling (near-broke) artist, I'd say "love what you do." Your paying job may not be your dream job, but if you are content, not spilling your thoughts and energy on what should have been your "now," you've reserved your strength to do the things that you love the most.







5. I learned that God is more present in the places that I have excluded Him.  "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 (Musings on the Modern Church, 3)"






6. This probably is the biggest mind-blower for me: After some really difficult struggles, I learned from my pastor's wife, who is also a marriage therapist, that the 1.5-2 year mark in any kind of relationship (romantic, friendship, work, ministry, etc) is always the hardest.  That's when guards start coming down, people are more vulnerable, a lot of flaws are revealed.  Grace starts to run out a little, and the confrontations can either make or break you.  But the beautiful part is that THIS IS NORMAL.  You don't realize what a weight was lifted!  I thought I was just crazy.  I thought I was cursed.  I wondered why all jobs maxed around 2 years.  I wondered why some relationships felt strained.  But it isn't just me.  We all change. We grow.  We become more honest with ourselves and those around us.  And we either choose to let it shape us or separate us.






7. Speaking of honesty, I've learned the true healing powers of being honest, and being in an honest community.  Perfection basically raised me, and I've hid many things in junk drawers and in closets.  I've learned to embrace my story, not run away from it.  I can say "That's who I was, I don't like who I was then, but I am not that person now."  






8. I confronted this of myself - there was a mistake I made eight years ago that I regret to this day.  No matter how I want to make things how they used to be, the garment is torn, and the patchwork will never look the same.  Because of this, I've lived vicariously through other relationships/friendships with the fear that I have the capability to destroy this; I've both held myself back from connection, and also sought reconciliation.  But I have learned to forgive myself.  If someone I loved has hurt me, what would I say to them? I should say that to myself.  I should be kind to myself.  Gracious to myself.  It's painful having a bully with you everyday.






9. Compassion is so difficult on social media. If you say "Pray for Paris," someone will say "What about Beirut?" And if you say "I welcome refugees," someone will say "What about the homeless in your city?" And if you change your profile picture, what does that really mean? If "All Lives Matter," then our love is never enough, and it feels easier to say nothing at all - and even when we say nothing, it's as if "No Lives Matter." Everyone's a critic about the things that move us, but at least we are moved, and that in itself makes us human. So I say, express whatever makes you feel humane.






10. Lastly, I learned to make marshmallows from scratch.  And it was delightful.

Truly, a lot of these lessons were heavily influenced by my church, Imagine.  I'm happy to be a part of a community that doesn't force me to hide what the average church doesn't want to see.  I'm happy that they allow me to be honest and open, that they don't welcome just the marginalized in society, but they welcome the pharisees too.  I journey beside others who are now friends, and am reminded that I am not alone- our freedoms are never just for ourselves, but for others too.

If I do make a resolution this year, it is to be bold and brave- in my honesty, in my creativity, in loving.  And may the lessons I have learned last year be my companions.



xo

On Anxiety, Part Three: Gratitude

Part One: Doubt

Part Two: Getting It Wrong

Having addressed some of the sources of anxiety, it is only fitting to (finally, three months later) close these thoughts On Anxiety with the route to overcome. We are all too strangely familiar with the unknown, than we are with the One we know.  We are familiar with the loneliness and stress of "what ifs," and impossibilities, and denial, and worry.  It starts taxing on our minds and we can't even concentrate on the now, because all possible scenarios (and only the worst ones) play in our minds.  Even our spirit sinks a little, and physically, we want to crawl into a storm shelter and Netflix with a tub of ice cream.

And in our vulnerability, we open up to someone, who says with such cute naivety:

Do not be anxious about anything...

Philippians 4:6

Many of us have heard this verse countless times, shoved in our face like sidewalk flyers.  "Don't be anxious!" and it's laced with "Just pray!" or "Just believe!"  Real talk: instead of it cheering you up, doesn't it aggravate you a little more, doesn't it provoke you even more, doesn't it make you feel misunderstood and cheap, like your feelings aren't valid...? It's never that simple to "just" pray or "just" get better.  It's never that simple to, instantaneously, "not" have anxiety. The notion is summed up by this meme that a friend recently texted me:

But even if it isn't simple to rid ourselves of anxiety, it is still a command.  It is a hard command.  It is hard especially when everything else it your life persuades you that failure, abandonment, rejection, etc- that these things are inevitable.  The unknown is like a black hole that, often times, every happy/secure thought falls into and gets lost.  Why would we want to fall into a black hole.  Who would ask to be lost.

So I too have brushed off that verse.  It's exhausting and a little more lonely when you feel patronized by overused Scripture, cheapened by kitschy stationery and mugs and plaques.  Nonetheless, by the power of the Spirit, the remainder passage came back to life:

...but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:6-7

My friends, He has shown us the most excellent way.

There's something about gratitude that keeps us humble.  And the place of humility denotes someone greater than us; it recognizes someone else's strength.  Surely, to be humble before God denotes that He is greater and stronger, and in the case of anxiety, in control.

When our minds are flooded with anxiety and worry and worst-possible scenarios, gratitude reminds us that we are indebted to One who has been consistently faithful to our hearts.  Remembering His presence and provision calms our thoughts, brings rest to our bodies, and surrounds us with peace.  He has been in control.  He still is in control.

Do not be anxious, about anything.  And in gratitude, tell your requests to God.  This too is key - we aren't ignoring the situation, we aren't denying the unknown.  But we're bringing our concerns, our needs, our humanity before Him.  We confess our fears and recognize our doubts, we are honest with our inability to be satisfied apart from Him.  We point out the holes that still feel empty, the ache in our hearts to have something tangible, or some word of hope to hang onto.  And with that, we are grateful for what He has done, and confident in what He can do.  We remember His faithfulness, if not just to us, but to those we know, and those we've heard of.  We recount His goodness and His relentless love and His forgiving mercies.  We are grateful, and we are humbled, and we lean on His strength.  And He is faithful to bring peace to our hearts.

A pocket of gratitude is enough to keep us buoyant.  Maybe we won't be near the shore or even at arms reach to a vessel. We may still feel lost in a vast ocean. But at least we will be afloat.  At least we are where we can breathe.



-----

And so this was the case for me, with that large decision I wrote about.  I was leaving everything I knew for 2.5 years, cutting ties, and severing a commitment- and the thoughts plagued my waking life.  I was afraid to leave, and a part of me would be tamped if I stayed.  And I had little courage to stand up for myself and walk away.  I questioned if I had to do this - did God really tell me to leave?  And what if I leave, and what if I'm wrong?

But it was the moment when I expressed my gratitude for this season (and there are many blessings still to count), that I was filled with an unexplainable joy: "Thank You, God, for this season, and what it was.  Thank You for the relationships I've gained, and the skills I've learned, and the unknown impacts I've made.  Thank You for choosing me and trusting me to carry out Your will, and thank You for those who will grow in my place.  Thank You for all the greater things You have planned, and for creating a space in my heart to trust You more..."

Remembering His goodness restored my hope.  He has never once left my heart alone.  And I am still walking into the unknown, but gratitude has kept be buoyant.  It's allowed me to breathe again.



xo



currently reading: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
currently listening: Rules of Civility

On Anxiety, Part Two: Getting it Wrong

To get you up to speed:
On Anxiety: Part One, Doubt

--

Peonies.  Or Cabbage.  Who knows.

To better understand this post, imagine you are in a situation where you need to make a life-altering decision.  I'm sure it won't be difficult to bring yourself back to that time and place.  Maybe you were leaving, maybe you were arriving, but you know that unsettled, in-between feeling.

I found myself in that place.  And then it became less of whether I should do this or that, I realized I should do that.  But then I questioned whether or not I've really heard from God.  What if I'm wrong?  What if I take this path and find out I should've never left?  What if I can't get back to where I started? 

For an unseen God, He is gracious enough to use the words in His Letters, or the words of a friend or a mentor.  I talked to someone about my anxieties and worries, and how hard it is for me to make this decision.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you this won't hurt," she said.  Either way I choose, something, or someone, will get hurt.  If I leave, both parties will feel the loss of separation.  But if I stay, something inside of me will die from being stagnant.  "You just need to make this decision.  Pull the trigger.  And if you're wrong, then you just come back with humility, and say it simply, 'I was wrong.'"

I don't know what was so liberating about hearing that.  It must be my perfectionism - I get anxiety because I worry about not getting it right the first time.  But why get so caught up with getting it right?  What's so bad about getting it wrong?

I'll tell you what's wrong with getting it wrong (or at least, why our brains tell us so).  Because in the moment that we get something wrong, we can be met with criticism, judgments, a loss of reputation, a lack of trust.. do you see where this is going?  There's this fear that to get something wrong, I'll be loved a little less.

There's nothing more sore than when you feel that someone loves you a little less for getting it wrong.  The childhood of a perfectionist is drenched with these memories, needing to perform/achieve/attain/get it right - in order to be loved.  And years will teach us (if we let it) that it's okay to get it wrong, it's okay to buy the wrong ticket, our value doesn't depreciate, our worth won't change.

I realize that this isn't an easy move for anyone with anxiety.  It's a slow moving process to experience the freedom of making choices without fear of failure.  But the only solution is to make that decision.  Anxiety is often borne because we haven't decided, and haven't made a commitment to that decision.

I've learned that the Latin root of the word "decide" is caedere, to cut.  So to decide is to literally cut off the other possibilities.  When you decide what you'd like to eat or what to wear, you say, this is not an option, that is not an option, this is what I will do.  And it is the same with large, life-altering decisions - to decide is to cut off the "what ifs" and "possibilities with this plan."  To decide is to choose one thing, letting go, commit to what you have, and accept what you don't have - or accept who you are not.

And yes, sometimes the wrong choice comes with consequences.  One day we make a decision to forego eating a healthy meal at home, splurge on junk food, and we feel disgusting for 36 hours.  One day we choose that pair of shoes and realize quickly the blisters we'll feel for a week.  And one day we choose to begin something radical, or end something endearing, and we might feel pain or misunderstood sorrow.  But we become a bit wiser, we grow in our discernment.  We learn what not to do, what hurts us in the long run, and that we are not dead, in fact we are strong enough to stand up and move forward.  We know who we are, we know who we're not.

Recently, I have found out what I am not.  And I made a decision, even though it was coated with questions of whether God really did say.  I know I have to follow through with this, I can't hang on to the what ifs.  It's the what ifs that make me fearful, half-hearted, and anxious.

But it's time to commit to that decision, and be okay - even if I get it wrong.



xo


currently reading: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
currently watching: House of Cards