I don’t pray enough.

No, I’m serious. For someone who talks about her faith so much, you would think I’d be on a Holy Spirit IV. (And you know, I guess technically I do. He’s in there somewhere, even when I’m not paying attention.)

But it’s embarrassing how many days go by, how many conversations I have about spiritual stuff, talking all ABOUT God. But not TO Him.

Days, I tell you. It’s embarrassing.

Well, yesterday I went to a one-day retreat. Part of it was getting alone with God and processing what we had learned.

I had been waiting for that part all day. Because I was starving.

I found a quiet spot and began pouring out my heart, listening intently, feeling like I was in a tight embrace with a loved one after a long absence.

I remembered Aslan comforting Susan after giving into her doubt and let them be God’s words falling on me.

You have listened to your fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?

(Sigh.) Braver, I guess. But Lord, there are these places where I’m not brave.

And of course, He already knew. I informed Him that they were wars I could no longer fight. They were too hard, too costly. The time between battles was fraught with anxiety. And that anxiety had taken its toll.

So God, I’m going to let go of these areas. I’ve done all I can.

Have you now? (Knowing smile.)

Well, I’ve tried everything I can think of. Seriously, I’m out of ideas.

You’re out of ideas. Oh no, whatever shall we do? (Playfully.)

Lord! I’ve been praying about them forever! You haven’t given me any other plan!

Maybe because I’m still working the first one.

You can’t be serious. Lord, they hurt me. All of those situations, the thousands and thousands of tears shed, the headaches, the teeth grinding, the upset stomach. Lord, You couldn’t possibly want me to keep fighting. They make me so anxious, so upset. I just can’t worry about them anymore. You can’t want that for me.

There was a heavy silence. I waited, terrified of the answer.

Then, as gently and lovingly as He could, God dropped a truth bomb on my heart.

My dear child, if you are worried and anxious and scared, sweet girl, that’s on you.

I gasped. He waited a moment to let that sink in. And boy, did I need it. Then He continued.

No, I would never want fear and worry for you. I have specifically commanded against them, as you well know. If your heart and mind are shredded by worry, then stop worrying; don’t stop fighting.

The light came on and all of a sudden, I knew EXACTLY what He meant. All the verses in the Bible that say to not be afraid, to not worry, to not be anxious about anything. They were choices.

I had been choosing them. All this time, I had been a willing participant in my own captivity and torture. I had bought the lie that I was powerless against the dictatorship of my feelings.

Then God reminded me something I had heard someone say probably a decade ago:

Feed what you want to live. Starve what you want to die.

The stress and worry had consumed me. And I was feeding the bitterness by rehashing all the painful exchanges, all of the heartbreaking circumstances, over and over and over. Just pouring sugar on the tumors that continued to grow and spread at frightening speed.

And what was starving? My soul.

All of the sustenance had been going to my pain. And there was nothing left to feed what I needed to live. No wonder I felt so dead inside.

Suddenly Philippians 4:6-7 made total and perfect sense.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, 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.

I can’t even begin to count how many times I have read those verses, how many times I have quoted those verses. It’s one of the few scriptures I know by heart. Well, one of the few I had memorized. Apparently, I DIDN’T know it by heart.

Don’t worry. Pray instead. You can’t do both. They cannot coexist. And if you choose prayer, then you’ll have a peace that makes absolutely no sense given your present circumstances.

Feed what you want to live. Starve what you want to die.

If I want my fear and anxiety to go away, I need to starve them out. Take that nourishing attention and pour it into prayer, giving it all to God who is the only One who can do anything about it anyway.

I felt so stupid. And so free.

I recently heard Beth Moore say, “Because He has the authority, I can have the audacity!”

My fears began to subside. And I marveled at the simplicity of making the other choice.

Now I’m not going to pretend any of us can control what pops into our head. Feelings and thoughts appear and disappear at will. Fearful, angry, painful things will no doubt continue to enter my mind until I breathe my last breath.

But I don’t have to make them comfortable. The yoga chick at the Y says to “just let them float away, like a cloud in the breeze.” And if they keep fighting for airtime, starve them out.

If I’m tempted to throw them a bone, just indulge them for a minute, I hope I catch myself. Snatch that attention back and “cast my cares upon Him” like a fisherman casts a net in the sea.

I will inevitably bring in a fresh catch of unexplainable, otherworldly peace.

Peace.

When was the last time I truly let myself feel peaceful? I’m surprised I even remembered how it felt. And yet there it was, securing the territory, setting up guards at every corner

I COULD keep fighting. Because I was no longer fighting alone.

Frederick Buechner said it like this:

Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back – in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.

Waiter, I believe I’d like to change my order. I’m tired of the anger. I believe I’ll try the prayer with a side of peace.

And would you ask the Chef to hurry, please?

I’m starving.

 

What an unexpected last three weeks.

I guess you can never really know what to expect in the near future. But nowhere in my wildest imagination would I have come up with this storyline.

The burn wasn’t that big a deal to me. I mean, it hurt. But I knew it would heal in a few days. I didn’t give it another thought.

Those few days came and went and my mother/sisters-in-law convinced me to get it looked at. (They threw out the words ‘staph infection.’ Yeah, that did it.)

First thing the next morning (then six days out) I’m in the burn unit at the hospital with Michelle (sister-in-law). They called me back to take my vitals before the doctor came in. The nurse took one look at it and was not happy with me. She began giving me a stern motherly lecture as she took my blood pressure.

“I know, I know,” I confessed. “I kinda lost track of how long it had been with my trip and the holidays and all. And then someone yesterday said ‘staph infection’ and that scared me so – “

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about a staph infection as much as sepsis,” she snapped at me as she shook her head disapprovingly.

My stomach dropped. “SEPSIS?” I looked at her aghast.

She glared back at me, “And sepsis is…” My eyes widened even more. “That’s right,” she continued. “Sepsis is…” she motioned for me to fill in the blank and leaned in for emphasis.

“Fatal,” I whispered, looking back at the infected mess on my leg.

“Mm-HM!” She clucked her tongue.

She rattled on about letting things go too long and how irresponsible it was, but I didn’t hear much else. I’ll never forget how that word felt in my mouth. Fatal. Just waiting something out could be fatal.

And from what I hear, this year’s flu is the same. And so is cancer. This whole waiting-it-out business isn’t always the right way to go. My doctor’s office has a sign in it that says IGNORE NOTHING. I guess I ignored it. Whoops.

Now here I sit in an uneasy calm before the next potential storm. I’ve had two surgeries, cadaver skin, my OWN skin graft, an infected graft site and a bad reaction to antibiotics. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

I won’t describe what the burn or the donor site looks like, for those of you with weak stomachs out there. But I’ll tell you this much: At my last appointment on Monday, all the nurses and doctors oohed and ahhed at how beautifully the skin graft had taken. Then Brad said, with eyes as big as saucers, “Well, what does it look like when it DOESN’T take? Because THAT looks like HELL.” (Thanks, babe.)

So now we wait. No, let me rephrase that: We KEEP waiting. More antibiotics, another followup on the calendar, the doctor asking for a picture of the infected site today to see how it has responded to the second round of antibiotics. Hoping my body will finally befriend the medicine and they decide to work together on this project.

Like Haiti, like Israel, you’re probably going to hear about this incident more than once. Lots of lessons learned, you know.

But today, I want to talk about the importance of LET. (No, that’s not a typo. Hang with me.)

I LOVE to rest… when it’s my idea. But let me tell you, nothing makes me want to train for a marathon more than being told I need to stay off my feet.

And you know what? I can occasionally accept help on big projects. But when it comes to the basics of taking a shower, getting something from across the room or a glass of water from the kitchen, I do NOT want help. Suddenly I was filtering out what I really needed versus what I just wanted to keep from sounding high maintenance. Most women can relate to this.

(The guys reading this are thinking, “Are they CRAZY? I LOVE being waited on hand and foot when I’m sick!”)

Three weeks into this inconvenience, I’ve finally begun to grasp one of the lessons God has been pressing on my heart.

I must learn to let.

Let people help me. Let things play out. Let my body heal on its own time. Let go of the illusion of control. Let the Christmas decorations stay up. Let Brad go to Publix. Let Caroline make dinner. Let my blog go for week after week. (Painful, you guys.) To calm down, get out of the way, quit trying to fix something or force something through and just, as the great theologian Paul McCartney says, LET IT BE.

See, I did it backward (not surprisingly). I ignored a wound that needed to be tended to. And now that it just needs time, I want to push things along.

No, now is the time to let.

And the word that goes hand-in-hand with let is rest. Letting implies resting. Passivity. With all the time I spent waxing eloquent about carpeing the diem and living proactively, I forgot the rest factor.

The first two weeks, I really thought I was resting. I was sitting. Almost all the time. When I wasn’t sitting, I was lying down. My body was technically at rest.

But my mind was making up the difference, working overtime trying to figure out the logistics of my botched plan for January.

The mind and body are supposed to work together, you know? Somewhere along the way, my mind and body separated so dramatically it bewilders my therapist. And I think the reconnection of the two would make a huge difference in my health. (I’m working on it.)

LEG: We’ve got to REST. You heard what the doctor said. Calm the crap down and be still, will ya?

MIND: YOU be still. He told YOU to be still. I don’t have to be still. I’m very busy. In fact, I’m busier than ever, since YOU decided to just take some time off.

LEG: Oh yeah, time off. Just chillin’… with a third-degree burn and staples in my flesh. Look, we’re not going to get well if…

MIND: What’s this ‘we’ business? There’s nothing wrong with ME.

LEG: We’re a team. We’re supposed to work TOGETHER.

MIND: Whatever.

LEG: Okay, if you think we’re so separate, why did the doctor numb you too for our surgeries? He could have just numbed me and let you go crazy up there. He needed ALL of us to be still so he could do his work.

MIND: (Sigh.) What’s your point?

LEG: My point is you need to SIT DOWN, SHUT UP and REST, dammit. Or we’ll never get well. I know we don’t communicate very well but now is NOT the time to go rogue, okay? All hands on deck, so to speak.

HANDS: Did you say something?

LEG: Sorry. I was talking to somebody else.

In Luke 10:27, Jesus demands it all:

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind.

Then, of course, there’s the whole metaphor of the Body of Christ in 1 Corinthians 12, about how all parts are important, all parts are needed. Not functioning as individual pieces but as a unit.

Here’s why it’s so important to grasp the concept of LETTING: Most of us really suck at letting God love us.

We’ll let Him save us. We’ll let Him help us. But my gosh, we just cannot stop trying to EARN it.

We love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). That means, since we love, His love was already there FIRST. Or we would not be able to love at all.

You don’t earn that. You CAN’T earn that. No matter how much studying, praying, striving, serving, giving, worshiping you do, it can never even come close to deserving God’s perfect love.

So what’s a believer to do?

LET Him.

All I have to do is LET Him love me. Stop trying to earn it or work for it. Stop trying to push it away when I’m embarrassed and don’t deserve it. Stop trying to make it make sense in my tiny, frantic, restless, anxious mind.

Literally, all I have to do is get out of the way and just let Him love me. Can you imagine how different my life would look if I lived from that place? (Sigh.) It’s almost like He designed it that way.

This is the second January in three years that I’ve ended up completely helpless for weeks due to an injury. (Remember the back incident of 2016? Good times.) Maybe God wants me to start the year off with a firm reminder of the beautiful and holy LET.

Let God.

Whatever He wants. Whatever He does. Whatever He allows. However much He loves. Let Him.

The truth is, there’s nothing we can do to really stop it. But we CAN miss it.

Yesterday, my mind finally caught up with my body and rested. And I let it. It was a huge breakthrough. And I honestly at long last started to feel like I was actually healing.

Now, in the same way, I pray that God would help me to let Him. Do whatever He wants.

But to start, before anything else, I must let Him love me. And I must rest in that love.

The late, great Brennan Manning said,

I am convinced that on Judgment Day Jesus is going to ask us one question and one question only: Did you believe that I loved you?

I want to say, YES!

Yes, Lord, I did believe You loved me! And I let Your love spill out of me and get all over everyone around me! I didn’t seek love in all the wrong places! I didn’t waste time chasing man’s empty praise! I rested in Your love and let You love me as much and as hard as You wanted and gathered strength to do mighty things from that love! It was so much easier to love You and love others well when I was full of YOUR love! I believed that You loved me all the way down to my toenails! You loved me and everybody knew it!

Especially me!

 

It’s still dark, early in the morning. I left all the lights off to come downstairs and write my blog in the glow of the Christmas tree. Soak up my last view of my Norman Rockwell-esque Christmas before we skip town and effectively skip Christmas altogether.

We don’t have the kids for Christmas this year. We had them last year and will have them next year. But this year, it’s not our turn. Life in a divorced family.

I consider myself fairly well adjusted when it comes to the messiness of this life God has placed me in. But last night, I gave in to all the feelings I had been ignoring for the days and months leading up to this.

All the kids were here last night. Briefly, before they scattered off to be with friends and then end up at their other parents’ houses. There were about five minutes when all five of us were here.

I sat next to Brad on the couch and Broken Christmas hit me like a Mack truck. And I started to cry.

Brad didn’t seem surprised or scared (he’s been to this movie before). He looked over at me tenderly and, already knowing the answer, asked, “Babe, what’s going on over there?”

The tree lights were on with presents underneath. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care. All the kids were home. All I wanted for Christmas was there, for a fleeting moment.

“This is what I wanted. For Christmas. For all of my Christmases. The tree. The stockings. The kids. It’s all here….”

“For about five minutes,” he finished for me. (Like I said, been to this movie before.)

“And tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow we’re going on our cruise,” he offered, hopefully.

“I know. And it will be wonderful,” I agreed tearfully. “But it won’t be (I motioned to all the Christmas in the room) this.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I know, babe. I know.” And he does know. A kid popped up, looking for something and I pulled it together.

A few moments later, I hugged the two older ones goodbye (a little too hard), told them Merry Christmas and I loved them so much. Then I got in the car and drove the youngest to her dad. I hugged her equally as hard and covered her face with kisses. “Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas. I love you so much.”

We both laughed at my obnoxious display of affection. She hugged me back and walked away. I got back in the car alone and turned the music on as loud as it would go to in an attempt to prevent any thinking, and drove home.

Well, I must admit, I have a thinking problem. (The first step is admitting it, right?) So as I drove, Jesus and I had to talk it through.

Lord, they’re not here.

I know, My child. It’s painful. 

I got the tree. The lights. The gifts. The stockings. But in 24 hours the house will be empty and I’ll be on a big beautiful boat holding a frozen mudslide watching the sunset over the ocean with my husband.

Doesn’t sound too bad to Me. 

No, it sounds amazing. It’s just not… Christmas.  

I see. So Christmas has to look a certain way? With the lights and the tree and the family and all that? And if any of those pieces are missing, it’s not really Christmas. Is that what you mean?

Yes. That’s EXACTLY what I mean.  

(We sat in brooding silence for a moment.)

You know, I didn’t have a tree. 

Lord, what are You talking about? You have ALL the trees. Every tree. Any tree. If a tree on this planet has grown or will grow at any point in time, it’s Yours. It’s all Yours. 

Not that night.  

Listen, don’t lecture me on Broken Christmases. I am the expert. I wrote that blog years ago and explained it to everybody. The first Christmas was a broken Christmas. So why should we expect any different? I got it. 

Do you?

Yes, I wrote it! 

But did you read it?

Yes, I read it. I had to check for typos. 

Have you read it lately?  

Well… no.  

Maybe you should. There’s some good stuff in there.

Fine. I’ll read it when I get home. But that won’t change the fact that my Christmas will be non-existent this year. 

Because of the missing pieces.  

Yes. No Christmas. Hell, there’s not even Santa Clause anymore. Caroline figured it out last year. ANOTHER missing piece. 

You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a Christmas Pharisee. (Teasing smile.) All these rules. And if they’re not followed perfectly, then the whole thing is for not. That’s a lot of pressure. 

Okay, I know I sound kind of bratty. But You know it’s not the STUFF. It’s the people. I just want all my people.  

I’m going to tell you what I told sweet Martha many years ago: You are worried about many things. But only one Thing is needed. 

But You’re here. You’re always here. 

Am I?

YES! Omnipresent. The Holy Spirit. Living in all those who believe. You’re everywhere, all the time.

Do you live like that is true?

You know what, Lord, I’m not perfect.

Oh, I know. (Holy chuckle.)

I mean, I try.

You do try. I know you try. You try and strive and write and teach. But now I’ll tell you something I told a certain group of teachers back in the day: You who teach others, do you not teach yourself?

I know the Truth!

Yes, you KNOW the Truth. But you don’t BELIEVE it.

Of course, I believe it! We’re having this conversation, aren’t we?

Only one Thing is needed, My child. Only one Thing. Martha needed all her pieces too. Everything had to be just so for the celebration to be a success. And like you, she meant well. She had everything she thought she needed (except Mary’s help, of course). But she sees the one Thing, the only Thing she needed was already there.

You, right?

You just said so yourself. Omnipresent. Residing in the soul of all believers. The only Thing you need. Not the only thing you WANT. But absolutely all you need. And I can be present on that boat with you just as much as I can sitting by the Christmas tree. You just don’t always know it.

(Convicted silence.)

You know, you idealize past Christmases. Because everyone you loved was there. All your precious pieces were in place. But there was one Piece missing. The Cornerstone. The Firm Foundation. The Light of the World. The Bread of Life. Wonderful Counselor. Mighty God. Everlasting Father. The Price of Peace…. Me. 

No, You were there.

The nativity scene doesn’t count. I was always at the Christmas Eve service the night before. But amid all your other pieces: the family, the gifts, the tree, the food, well, there wasn’t much need for… Me. And you’re not one to ignore guests. You just… forget about Me.

Come on, Lord. That’s harsh. 

But true. Think about it. Think about you surrounded by all your pieces in the throes of Christmas morning. You’re handing out gifts, opening gifts, eating cinnamon rolls and breakfast casserole, lost in the bliss of Christmas.

So if you can’t have all your other pieces and you can’t check off all the boxes on your list of requirements for a happy Christmas, do you think maybe this year, you could settle for just Me? 

I mean, you’ll have lots of other pieces to distract you. Room service. A veranda view. All the boat drinks you could possibly consume. Delicious food everywhere. Again, far more than you need. Only one Thing is needed. Will you allow Me to be with you for Christmas? 

(Deep breath, tears threatening.) 

Will you see Me in the wild ocean, in the beautiful islands? Will you marvel at My power and majesty to create such wonders for you to behold? The waves and wind still know My Name. They remember. Will you? Will you bask in My love as you bask in the sun? Will you recognize all I have given you, that they are all gifts from My hand? 

Because guess what. If you will, that’s Christmas. Only one Thing is needed. Many things are wanted. Many things are HAD. But only one is needed. And if you let Me be a part of it, Christmas will be complete. Your LIFE will be complete. 

Will you let Me?

You don’t need my permission. 

No, I don’t. I could storm in and take over at any moment. But that’s not how I roll. I am with you always. See Me in the beauty, in the blessings. See Me in the pain, in the emptiness. Let Me fill it. Let Me fill you. It is the only life that is truly life. 

You called it abundant life. 

Yes, well, I like the way Paul said it too. Whatever it’s called, I want you to have it. I created you to have it. Chase life. Chase Me. Not these worldly pursuits. Not even those you love. I love them more. And I’ve got them even when you don’t. Chase Me.

(Exhale.) Only one Thing is needed?

Only one Thing is needed. And you’ve got Me, sweet girl. All of Me, whenever you want. I’m right here.

My one Thing. The only Thing that’s needed.

The rest is just icing. No, gravy. You like gravy better.

I love gravy. Will there be gravy on the cruise?

I’m sure. Just don’t get lost in the gravy this year, okay? (Affectionate smile.)

Okay. Will You come with us on the cruise? Will You be there for Christmas?

Yes, I will. On Christmas and on all days. Seek Me and you will find Me. I won’t hide. Now go wake up your husband. He hasn’t packed yet. Don’t forget your passport. And I’ll see you on the water.

(Entitled grin.) Will You walk on it for me? For my Christmas present?

(Delighted laugh.) Let me check with My Father. Not sure if that’s on the docket this Christmas. But we’ll see. Just remember, My girl. Only one Thing is needed.

Only one Thing is needed. (Sigh.) I love You, Lord.

I know. And I love you more.