True Story

I am a nobody, relatively speaking. 

I have a very small life. 

I don't pretend to be a voice that is listened to by the masses, or even by my kids half the time.

I am very aware of the fact that few people care what I have to say about...well, pretty much any subject you might name. 

I don't have a college degree or an impressive resume. Who am I kidding? I have no resume at all, unless "potty-trained four kids, two dogs, and one cat" counts as prior job experience.

I could go on. I'm very good at self-aware downplaying. I know who I am on paper. I know who I am not.

But also, and I cannot overemphasize this next point: I. KNOW. WHO. I. AM.

I know that my God has seen fit to call me His daughter. (Galatians 4:5-6)  I know that He, and He alone, has the words of life. (John 6:68) I know that I have access to the throne room of heaven. (Hebrews 4:16)

I could go on here too. I would LOVE to keep talking about all the things I know to be true about me, because I have read them in the Bible.

But, for just a minute, I want to speak on a subject that many, many, many more influential people than me have been talking about this past week. 

Mental health crisis.

Again, lest you have forgotten in the past few moments, I remind you that I have no degrees. I have no platform. I have no recognition as an expert.

"But what I do have, I give to you..." (Acts 3:6)

I've had a mental health crisis. Two separate ones, in fact. 

And while I am sure everyone's definition is different (because every person is different, duh) I think we can all pretty much agree that when we think of this term, (which I will now refer to as MHC to save my fingers some mileage) we are thinking of some version of a debilitating emotional upheaval that begins to affect us physically.

My first MHC occurred when I was 24-years-old. Complete with panic attacks, insomnia, an EKG on a racing, stuttering, never settling heart, more than one different medication, and finally, a thought that led me to ask for help. "It would really just be easier if I were dead."

I will never forget sitting on the floor of my kids' bathroom, while my 3-year-old and 1-year-old played in the water, and listening to my mom's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Are you praying in the Spirit? It edifies you, baby girl. (1 Corinthians 14:4) Are you staying in the Word? That's where hope is. (Psalm 119:114)"

That same day I shared my struggles with my husband. "I don't know what is wrong. I don't know how you can help me. But I need you to help me." I was shaking and sobbing. He listened.

That night as I climbed into bed, sure that I would spend another mostly sleepless night having one panic attack after another, he walked into the room carrying his Bible. He sat on the edge of the bed, and he began to read it.

Crawling out of that first MHC hole took me more than a year. In that time, I read through the entire Bible, and I began a habit of praying under my breath while cooking dinner and driving in my car. Also, my husband continued to read the Psalms aloud to me, night after night. That was 16 years ago. He still reads to me, and our kids, every night. Last night, we read 15 verses in Psalm 119. 

My second MHC occurred within the last 10 years. It included anxiety so severe I could barely eat, resulting in a rapid weight loss that had my friends forcing me to go to the doctor and have my stomach checked for ulcers. 

You know what I did during that MHC? I continued to pray in the Spirit, I continued to read the Word. I asked others to pray for me, and I focused on the face of the One who loves me so deeply that He willingly died in my place TO GIVE ME the ability, and the right, to pray under my breath when I need help. (Psalm 123:1-2a)

I give that brief history review lest I be accused of speaking on subjects I have no personal experience with. Which, by the way, is totally irrelevant to the truth BEING true, but somehow people are less likely to give weight to words unless they have been lived. 

Now I am to the crux of what I am trying to communicate. And I'll state it plainly because I'm a plain girl, and I don't like having to be careful with my words. I prefer to just say stuff.

A MHC does not have to be simply accepted.

It is not a fact of your life that you can do nothing about.

It is not worthy of celebration.

It is not an opportunity for rest and self-care.

It IS an opportunity. A call, from your very bones, shouting 'SEEK HELP IMMEDIATELY.' But why do we neglect to seek help WHERE IT CAN BE FOUND??

Brothers and sisters, do not be deceived. Do not be lulled into acceptance. Do not grab hold of the narrative that we all have these crises and the best, bravest thing we can do is recognize them and work to deal with them and not try to hide them. 

That is a lie. 

And we've all believed so many other lies that, at this point, what's one more, right?

I mean, we have all felt entitled to things, right? It's the American dream: life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. They are inalienable rights, after all.

We all deserve 'me' time.

We have a right to a good night's sleep. 

We have a responsibility, a duty, a mandate even, to protect ourselves and others from physical danger. We must keep ourselves safe. We truly believe that's within our power to do. 

And so when any, or many, of these things we hold so dearly are shaken or taken or turned upside down...why are we surprised that a MHC follows?

Prove one lie to be a lie and the whole house of cards comes tumbling down in our minds. And then...then we get hit with the biggest falsehood of all. 

"Just sit in this. It'll pass eventually. It's all part of the pressure of life."

I am telling you right now, in words as plain as I can: If I had sat in my MHC, and just felt the feelings, and pondered them, and talked about them, and accepted them as a part of my life and my journey...I would be dead.

That's the road my first mental health crisis was heading down.

Thank God that there were people around me who did NOT just listen and accept and say "you're safe with me" or "you're so brave for being willing to say it out loud." 

PRAISE THE LORD that my mother pointed me toward the face of God Almighty, and my husband led me into the Word. I found life there. I found hope. I remembered the truth. Nothing is certain. Nothing is my right. Not one thing is controllable by me. ONLY. HE. IS. CERTAIN. (1 Peter 1:25)

A decade later, when my second MHC hit...I knew what to do.

And because I know what to do, I am sharing it.

I'm not saying you're not dealing with very real junk. We all do. It's part of being humans on a fallen planet. We all know that "in this world you will have trouble." But we forget to tell each other "TAKE HEART." He has overcome, and He gives us the same authority. (John 16:33 and 14:12)

I absolutely AM saying that most of the feedback from people on the issue is not the TRUTH.

The facts and the truth don't always agree. And I will side with Truth, unapologetically, every time.

Isaiah 44:18-20 (really the whole story starts in verse 12, but you can get the gist if you jump to 18) talks about a man who carves an idol and then worships it, refusing to think through the fact that he made it with his own hands, and therefore it cannot be GOD.

We have done this, brothers and sisters. On so many things. We are holding in our hands a thing that was never TRUE, and we refuse to look at it and say "Is this thing in my hand a lie?" (Isaiah 44:20b)

My attempt, in this polarizing blog post, has been to point out the truth in a world obsessed with just accepting the current crisis.

You don't have to just sit in your crisis. Fight back. Don't "do the work" of acceptance. 

DO THE WORK of running toward the One who loves you, and wants to refine you.

If I can help you, I will. I will NOT pat you on the back and just let you sit there. But I will do my best to point you to the Lord.

That is what all followers of Jesus SHOULD be doing on this, and all issues of the day. 

The TRUTH does not apologize for being truth.

Cougar Courage

 Have you ever been at a loss for words when trying to explain something that felt truly indescribable?

All around us, every day, is the evidence of people's selfishness. The news, the stores, the streets, the AIR, is rife with hostility and malice and self-righteous anger and judgement.

But that's not what I'm talking about. 

I'm talking about moments of greatness, that steal your breath, that make your eyes well with tears, that solidify themselves in your memory for all of time.

The upheaval and isolation and division...it has been before, and it undoubtedly will be again. Nothing is new under the sun, after all. We just have a different name for the same ugliness.

But...over the past 7 months, all of that has been set aside. Because greatness must be paid attention to. 

The second season of the Triad Cougars basketball team has come to an end.

And before you think I'm going to say it was special because we won every game or set some record or played better than anyone has ever played before...I'm not.

I will say that there were some amazing dunks, some breath-taking three-pointers, some perfect passing. But, fundamentally, they're just boys. They're just learning. They made mistakes. They won and they lost.

Still...within all of that, we saw so much more.

Young men stepping up to welcome new members into the brotherhood.

The youngsters willing to play agains guys twice their size, fearlessly.

The stronger ones coming to the aid of their smaller comrades.

Boys, just beginning to become men, feeling the swell of anger...and choosing not to let it overcome them.

Players willing to step in between their teammate and an unkind opponent, and refuse to allow ugly words to be spoken.

A brother coming to the defense of his brother, no matter the consequences.

All of them running until their legs would barely hold them, and then, when it was asked of them, running some more.

There was vomiting.

There were technical fouls.

There was a broken nose.

There were tears.

There was blood.

Watching them out there on that court, fighting for every ball, encouraging each other endlessly, calming each other down, defending each other, helping each other...I saw a little glimpse into their future. 

Men of honor and courage, these boys. Willing to do the hard things for each other. Willing to push through pain, fight back mental fatigue, press forward to win the prize.

Not a trophy, though they did win a few. 

No, the prize they earned was within them, and between them.

We have watched them pray for each other in church...and we have watched it on the sidelines of a ball game. Heads bowed, shoulders touching, hearts knit together forever, these Cougars have clawed their way through a tough season, and they have won a victory for us all.

A victory over the distractions of the chaos all around us.

For a couple hours a day, a few days a week, a few months a year, there was nothing we couldn't do if we fought hard enough for the person beside us. Because they were fighting for us too. We soared when that ball and those legs did. It was special. We will always remember.

Thank you, Cougars, for your hearts of gold-covered steel. 

Thank you for fighting for us, for representing us.

We will do the same for you.

Jesus Freak

 I've started reading a book called "Jesus Freaks" to my kids. It was published when I was a teenager, in cooperation with Voice of the Martyrs. Maybe you've never heard of it, or VOM for that matter. That's okay. (The older I get the more I am finding that I've been introduced to a lot of super "Christian"  things, and protected from a lot of super "worldly" things, throughout my life. I support this and am working hard to make sure my kids have the same weird knowledge base when they are grown and reflecting back.)

It's a compilation of stories of people who have been persecuted for their faith in Jesus throughout history. Some stories are from the early church, many come out of countries that still persecute Christians today.

Why am I reading them tales of young men being hung from the ceiling by their hair in an attempt to get them to recant their faith? Why do I want them to know that a man stabbed his sister to death with a knife rather than allow her to openly convert to Christianity? Why do I require them to listen as I read of people who refused to spit on their Bibles and so were shot in the head?

Because the day will come in this country, and indeed has already come, where there will be persecution handed out to followers of God Most High and His Son, Jesus Christ.

Don't misunderstand me. I don't know of routine floggings for proclaiming a belief in Jesus, unless you're referring to verbal floggings. 

I am not aware of anyone losing their fingernails for refusing to back down from a truth then KNOW...unless you count chewing off ones own nails in anxiety while being blasted on social media or over text. 

No one is being burned at the stake in America for being a Christian. At least not physically. At least not yet.

And to further clarify what I mean by "Christian," let me be frank: Most of the time the members of the church, those who profess the name and character and Lordship of Jesus, do so quietly, to their own close group of people who won't verbally rip them to shreds. We (I'm including myself in this) are very willing to speak the truth and defend the truth and hold tightly to the truth...unless it might cost us friendships and relationships with family and standing in our community and butts in seats on Sunday morning at our church. We are Christians in all the ways that are acceptable in society...and we are tight-lipped in all the ways that culture tells us isn't allowed.

I like to think if someone were holding a gun to my head, I would find that my love for Jesus was more precious than my love for my life. I think all believers hope this is true of them. But here's a question that'll keep you up at night: what if the gun is being held to your child's head? What if the person about to lose their life isn't you? Do you, do I, still choose Jesus when it affects someone else besides us? If I'm not willing to be verbally assaulted for 'hate speech' on social media...doesn't that say that, in function, I am not willing to lay down my life to defend the gospel? 

Oof.

Almost daily, I see or hear something that makes me say: "That's not true. It's a perversion of the Truth. It's twisted to mean what that person wants it to mean." But I don't say it on a platform of any kind. I just say it to myself, or to someone I know won't disagree with me.

Because I've tried holding to the truth and voicing that truth...and it has cost me relationships. More than once. More than twice. And when you have heard enough times that you're being a bigot or close-minded or arrogant to think you have all the answers (especially when that's coming from someone close to you) you start to bite your tongue more often.

Here is the raw, ugly, unguarded truth: I have allowed the enemy to silence me because I don't want to be emotionally ripped to shreds by people who used to love me but suddenly find they don't agree with me...and the things we don't agree on are deal breakers for them. So I remain silent. I speak of my Jesus, my friend, my Lord...but in function I do not willingly speak of ALL that He is.

How heartbroken I am to realize that, in words, I say "I don't love my life so much that I shrink from death" (Revelation 12:11)...but in deed, that isn't actually the case. (Not that I think I will die if I speak against things the Bible speaks against...at least not currently. But being 'canceled' and labeled 'hater' are happening every day. Both have happened to me over this past year.)

My whole life, the wisest man I know (my daddy) has told me to take all my questions to the Word, and let HIM answer them. 

This morning I did that very thing. I went to the Word. Because something came up last night to which I responded "that is NOT true, it's being misused" but only to my daughter. And today the Spirit of God has been asking me why I am shrinking back from standing on His Word and being willing to say it out loud. So...here it goes.

"Even Jesus grew angry at injustice."

"Jesus made a whip and flipped tables to make His point."

Maybe you've heard this recently. Maybe you've said it. Maybe you are hearing it for the first time, but are nodding along in agreement to the underlying point attempting to be made. The point that violence and destruction on behalf of social justice has precedent, set by Jesus, in scripture.

May I submit the passages of scripture for your reading? I read them all this morning. I also read commentary about them. 

Matthew 21:12-13, Mark 11:12-19, Luke 19:45-48 (All three of these are records of the same incident, which is referred to as the second time Jesus acted in this way. The record of the first time is found in John 2:13-16)

After reading them all, as well as commentaries, I have come down very firmly on the truth I already understood.

It is a truth that is "cancel" worthy. But if I believe it, I should be willing to say it. And if I'm not...do I truly believe it, in function? Am I willing to stand up and point out what is true, in the hope that light is shed on something that is being misused by the enemy?

Yes. I am.

Jesus did in fact go into the Temple and angrily drive out those who were trading and selling there. The Jewish merchants had set up trade tables in the court of the Gentiles in order to take advantage of people who were coming to worship God. They were exchanging their foreign money at an exorbitant rate, and then requiring them to buy "acceptable" animals for sacrifice from them, also at an inflated rate. Jesus said it was a den of thieves, when it was supposed to be a house of prayer.

Several things of note:

Jesus was dealing with hypocrisy and distortion of truth WITHIN the 'church' of that day.

He did NOT speak against injustice in the society, though there was great social unrest and injustice to be found during His life and ministry.

He didn't even address the Gentiles who were there. Rather, He set right the lies of those within His own circle of culture and, dare I say the buzzword, ethnicity.

He was angry, yes. Angry in defense of worship and reverence for His Father. Righteously angry in defense of the TRUTH. He walked into a place He wanted to come to worship Yahweh alongside His fellow Jews...only to find that they were more concerned with making money by extorting the innocent or ignorant. They had become distorted by the culture around them. Complaining about the way the Romans taxed them too heavily, and then turning around and doing the same thing to others, in God's house. 

And so, Jesus came to the defense of what was right. He opposed that, within His own ethnicity, within His own cultural place of worship, which was anti-TRUTH. 

He did not beat up any tax collectors. He did not flip any tables and drive out, with a whip, any Romans. He did not even support not paying taxes. (Luke 20:25)

He. Was. Put. To. Death. Unjustly. And still, during His sham of a trial, He said "my kingdom is not of this world." (John 18:36)

From the life of my best friend, Jesus, I glean who I am supposed to be.

I will defend the truth. The truth about HIM. ALL of it. Without apology.

I will not go out looking for a fight about a kingdom that isn't my heritage.

My citizenship is in Heaven. (Philippians 3:20) I will defend the truth of my Homeland, even if it costs me everything.

"I don't really care if they label me a Jesus Freak. There is no denying the truth..." ( Jesus Freak by DC Talk)