mid-life crisis?

I just found this unpublished draft of a post, written seven years ago. Looking that far back on a mid-life crisis makes me feel old, but I will say from this vantage point that it really was a crisis, and I really am through it, and I've found my niche. Maybe I had my crisis early, just to get it out of the way. Maybe there's another one coming. Only time will tell.

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After surfing the web a while in search of a definition, I've given up. Some say mid-life crisis happens between 40 and 50 years of age when a person suddenly wonders who they are. Some say there's no such thing as a 'mid-life crisis'. Another stated that it's a period of personal identity crisis that happens around 40 years of age, give or take 20 years.

I'm 27. It's unlikely that this is a full-blown mid-life crisis that I'm experiencing. Call it what you want. But the dominant feelings are restlessness and a questioning of what direction I'm heading. Having chosen a vocation, I find myself constantly wondering when I can pursue my true calling in life, the purest expression of who God has made me to be.

But where does obedience fit in? I have this nagging suspicion that God's first priority may not be a fast track to self-actualization. So how can I tell?

anniversaries of the heart

Well, it's coming up on 2 years since my last post on this blog. I wish I could say that the reason was my busy life, but I'm afraid that wouldn't be the whole truth. The fact is 'soul thirst' hasn't been the most accurate characterization of the season I've been in. Since my last post we bought a house here in Charlotte, put the girls in school, I started a masters degree, we found a new church and we've been really content with our life. Danny's job is the perfect fit for him and the hard, dry season of wrestling has ended. Parenting consumes most of my attention and the energy I have left is devoted to school. Each time I've thought about blogging I come to the conclusion that 'soul thirst' just doesn't describe me spiritually right now. Until lately.

I'm starting to wake up to the fact that being comfortable and happy has its disadvantages. I feel less keenly the need to depend on God. The pace and schedule of life sweeps me along without cause for reevaluation. I'd like that to change somehow. I'd like to experience once again that sense of really longing for God - that feeling that without him I'm toast. I'm not really sure how to get back there, but I thought blogging might help. So here goes.

Jesus, be the center.
Be my hope.
Be my song, Jesus.

my best friend

As each year passes, my life becomes an even more complicated collection of experiences, preferences, and longings. With each move, each change in role, I have the "opportunity" to find new friends. You would think that the broader my life becomes, the easier it would be to relate to others. And in one sense that's true. It isn't difficult to find a "connection point" with new acquaintances. I'm a missionary, a homeschool mom, interested in adoption, fascinated by other cultures, with friends all over the world. I like scrapbooking, eating healthy, and reading, and have now lived on the east coast, the west coast, in between and overseas. Most people share at least ONE of these interests, or know someone who does, so we can find plenty to talk about the first time we meet. But that's where I'm beginning to feel stuck. I've noticed that in 6 months, my relationships have remained strikingly narrow. I don't own a house, don't have lots of money, don't get my hair and nails done, don't like sports, abhor pets & exersize, and don't get out much. Add to that the fact that we'll only be here for about 2 more years, and you have a recipe for a stilted friendship. It's difficult to find someone who shares enough in common with me to create the common ground for a well-rounded relationship. My like-minded friends back home are just that ... back home. And here, conversations keep coming back to the same things, such as motherhood or homeschooling. I can only think of a few people whose life naturally intersects with mine. Argh.

Then it hit me. As I was turning over my list of possible friends in my mind, I realized that there IS someone who can relate to me, who has shared not just a few, but EVERY one of my varied life experiences. It sounds trite to say that Jesus is my best friend, but today it's a tremendous encouragement to me. No one else knows me so thoroughly and still loves me. Even my husband, who has shared every address and most of the stamps in my passport, has had different roles and spheres of influence. He feels so differently than I do about certain seasons we've been through together. But Jesus understands the jumble of emotions within me. He's been right beside me all the way, and best of all, he promises to keep walking with me on this journey, no matter where it takes me.

this is your hug and kiss

It's become sort of a routine at our house, part of the get-ready-for-bed routine. Eliana goes potty, washes her hands, brushes her teeth, gets in her pj's, and gets in bed. After a story, 5 sips of water, some chatting and a prayer, it's time for a hug and kiss. Except usually by that time she's pretty tired. And often her mind is still going round and round about something she and daddy talked about. So when I give her a hug and kiss, sometimes she doesn't notice. On many occasions I've given her a hug and kiss, the lights are off, and she's supposed to be sleeping ... when we hear her voice ring out,
"Mommy! You forgot to give me a hug and kiss!"
"No I didn't!" I reply with a chuckle. "Don't you remember?"
"I didn't FEEL a hug and kiss!" she says.
"Well, I DID hug you, and I kissed you right on your forehead. You were busy talking when I did, so maybe you didn't notice."
So then we have to have another bedtime hug and kiss because she missed the first one.
Well, these days, just to ensure that she's paying attention I've learned to hold her face and look into her eyes before I tell her goodnight. "Eliana, this is your hug and kiss. Are you with me?" It works much better that way.

And then I wondered, just a moment ago, how many expressions of God's love we miss because we aren't paying attention. Perhaps we're too busy thinking or talking to notice His hugs. Hmm.

September 19

How refreshing it is to have found a devotional with substance and depth, where daily I'm challenged to trust Him more rather than to pursue my own happiness. Suffering seems to be so out of style in our culture. But Mrs. Cowman discovered its necessity in our spiritual development. In her devotional collection, Streams in the Desert, she offers daily meditations on the value of suffering. For September 19th she quotes Dr. Miller, saying,

"It is comforting to think of trouble, in whatever form it may come to us, as a heavenly messenger, bringing us something from God. In its earthly aspect it may seem hurtful, even destructive; but in its spiritual out-working it yields blessing. Many of the richest blessings which have come down to us from the past are the fruit of sorrow or pain. We should never forget that redemption, the world's greatest blessing, is the fruit of the world's greatest sorrow.

"There are blessings we can never have unless we are ready to pay the price of pain. There is no way to reach them save through suffering."

Having learned yesterday of the death of a humble and effective servant of God in the Philippines, of a friend's husband who has discovered a brain tumor, and of the death of a 9-year old boy whose parents left home to bring the good news to remote tribes, this comes as a great comfort. How can we explain the presence of such suffering if not for the fact that God's purposes for our lives run so much deeper than our personal comfort here on earth? He has rich blessings to give, if only we will recognize His hand in our troubles.

August 26

"I remember a summer in which I said, 'It is the ocean I need,' and I went to the ocean; but it seemed to say, 'It is not in me!' The ocean did not do for me what I thought it would. Then I said, 'The mountains will rest me,' and I went to the mountains and when I awoke in the morning there stood the grand mountain that I had wanted so much to see; but it said, 'It is not in me!' It did not satisfy. Ah! I needed the ocean of His love, and the high mountains of His truth within. It was wisdom that that 'depths' said they did not contain, and that could not be compared with jewels or gold or precious stones. Christ is wisdom and our deepest need. Our restlessness within can only be met by the revelation of His eternal friendship and love for us."

-Margaret Bottome, quoted in Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles E Cowman (August 26)

back to trusting

It's been an awfully long time since I've posted anything, mostly because of our big transition back to the US, extra traveling, and preparation for baby. But God has been gently nudging me lately. There's been a subtle shift in my life from peaceful trusting to a driven kind of prayer that will not rest until my circumstances are comfortable, as if God owes me preferential treatment. It came to a head 2 weeks ago when I learned that I would probably have to have an immediate cesarean. A friend was good enough to say that his prayer is for God's will in our situation, not necessarily the most humanly desireable outcome. So here I sit, thankfully still pregnant, but ponderous of how I could have slipped so far from what He taught me during dry months in the Philippines.

This morning I read a devotional entry by Hannah Whitall Smith that brings it all back to center for me. "Is it not a glorious thing to know that, no difference how unjust a thing may be, or how absolutely it may seem to be from Satan, by the time it reaches us it is God's will for us, and will work for good to us? For all things work together for good to us who love God."

Tomorrow's entry, by F.W. Robertson, reads, "The best things of life come out of wounding. Wheat is crushed before it becomes bread. Incense must be cast upon the fire before its odors are set free. The ground must be broken with the sharp plough before it is ready to receive the seed. It is the broken heart that pleases God. The sweetest joys in life are the fruits of a sorrow. Human nature seems to need suffering to fit it for being a blessing to the world."

Thank you, Father, for your grace that will not fail until I'm found fully in You. Forgive my self-centered preoccupation. Show me again the way to find blessing in brokenness and the ministry of comfort in affliction.

2:00 AM

Life looks a lot different at 2:00 in the morning. Absolutely still. Dark. Almost everyone is sleeping, and those who aren't are quiet. I'm not sure why I can't sleep tonight, but I'm thinking about how amazing God is to not need sleep. Nighttime reveals just how human we are, how vulnerable and limited. Boundless energy and big visions must all rest. Tired moms and hospital patients, too. Sleep is the great leveler of humanity. We all need it -- no matter how rich or poor, intelligent or simple. Stresses seem irrelevant at this hour. Problems smaller. We can (and must) rest in the arms of the One who needs no sleep.

"He won't let you stumble,
your Guardian God won't fall asleep."
from Psalm 121 (the Message)

I'm headed back to bed ...

timing

My mouth started watering the instant I saw them. Peaches. A whole pile of lovely golden peaches with a ripe blush. I had already been dreaming of peaches for about a week. Knowing that we would soon be back in the States, where peaches are readily available, had piqued my appetite. But here, hidden in this grocery store in Manila, were real peaches. I knew better. I knew it was February, not peach season. I knew I was in Manila, not Denver, Colorado. The price alone should have stopped me. But my mouth was already watering so I splurged. After all, the peach had a nice firm softness about it that seemed just right. And I was pregnant and needed more healthy variety in my diet. So I took the plunge.

I knew the moment the knife pierced the skin that it had been a mistake. No juice dripped out on my fingers. No irresistable smell reached my nostrils. I finished cutting the peach, the damage having already been done. Before sharing with my daughter I tried a bite myself. Mealy and tasteless. Ugh. I tried disguising my mistake by mixing it with delicious bites of mango and juicy ripe pineapple. She was not fooled. "Ugh. What is this mommy? I don't like it."

I thought then about how timing is everything. A perfect blessing at the wrong time is no blessing at all. So I could cry about the peaches I'm "missing out on" or I could thank God for keeping them on the tree until they are truly delicious and I'm on the right continent to enjoy them.

neurological restlessness

"Cognitive scientists ... recognize a restlessness in the human mind, a need to do something with our thoughts and to pursue goals . Being human means grasping for something more, just as Adam and Eve did..."

"Presumably, God could have designed a human brain more like a computer CPU, leaving out any neurological restlessness. Animals seem content living out the singular goal of survival, without the need to reflect on themselves or grasp for more. Yet when God created a being in God's own image, he built in restlessness, along with curiosity and desire..."

from Philip Yancy, Rumors of Another World, 102-103

home for the holidays

Life has been so full, not merely busy. Each day has been loaded with significant conversations & decisions about how long we will live here in the Philippines and where we will go next. But here we are hurtling towards Thanksgiving Day, and Christmas right on its heels. The calendar is giving no pause for our deliberation! All around are blinking lights, Christmas carols (here they started in August), and shelves stocked with holiday goodies. Something stirs in me when I imagine the smell of pumpkin pie baking, stacks of leftovers jammed into the fridge, unhurried time with family.

Then I remember ... I live on an island across the Pacific Ocean, and there will be no family. No football game or parade to watch on Thanksgiving day. No mom to help cook the turkey. No dad to carve it. No neighbors celebrating. Just a regular day. We will be far, so far, from loved ones on Christmas. No pile of presents. No chill in the air. No cousins playing by the tree. When the wave of nostalgia first hit me I was tempted to wallow in self-pity. But that same moment there was a twin feeling, a gentle whisper ... "soul thirst."

My longing to be home for the holidays, my craving for yummy smells and cheery music and a cozy living room, is merely an echo of my thirsty soul. Gingerbread cookies, candlelight services, even time with family can't touch my deepest longings. Those can be met right here, in 90 degree heat with construction workers right outside my kitchen window. In my isolation I have 2 choices: to wallow or to burrow. The first, self-pity, is all too tempting. The challenge is to instead burrow deeper with the Lord, to surround myself with His tender mercy, and to soak in the reminder that no matter where He takes me I am found in Him. He is my home for the holidays!

hindsight

I started a new journal today (a paper one, that is). The last one lasted about 10 months. Amazing how much life can be lived in 10 months, how many questions can be answered! On the first page of my old journal, I wondered what the next season would look like. At the time I was wrestling with some big decisions about my life's calling and direction. I was consumed with trying to figure it all out. Now the questions that seemed so elusive and ponderous less than one year ago have each quietly been answered in the course of daily life. There was no flash of lightning, no sudden epiphany of knowledge or resolution. God simply wove His will into the fabric of my life through simple decisions and changes in circumstance, one day at a time.

The first page of my new journal looks much the same as the old one. Again I'm brimming with questions about our future. Where will we be when the last page is filled? Will our family have grown? Will our work have changed? Will our future be any clearer? But at this moment I'm realizing that perhaps the future is never clear, at least not in the ways we want it to be. Only looking back is the view unobstructed. Such a strange disease of the eyes we have, that we should have clear vision only over our shoulder and not up ahead. The purpose, I suppose, is to cause us to hold tightly to the hand of the only One who can see ahead. With Him at our side, any destination will do.

earthquake

I was reading in bed when I had the oddest sensation. First I thought someone was under the bed moving it. Then it felt like I was in a waterbed. I thought I was dizzy. But the whole room was gently rocking; the door and curtain swayed. That's when I realized, "This is an earthquake!" I was frozen to the spot, fully alert, wondering what this would mean.

Then it was over. No deaths. No drama. No damage.

But HE had made His point. For a long time, even through the night as I dreamed, and again in the morning, I felt different. Small. Fragile. Utterly dependent.

What I took for granted only yesterday morning, that is, the solidness of the earth, the immovability of it all, was greatly altered. This massive rock that we are planted on cannot be trusted. Even it is at the mercy of the Maker. It CAN be moved. HE is the only thing certain.

Don't we all need a reality check every once in a while?

today

Today is one of those numb and energy-less days where I don't feel like a whole lot of living, loving, or longing is going on. I'm mostly just trying to hang on to memories of what life feels like when I'm really alive. Strange how quickly one can go from soaring to crawling. Is that why Israel was so quick to grumble and complain in the desert, only days after seeing a miracle? Were they like me?

I guess what I'm really wondering is this ... Is it ok to have so-so days? Or is it always an indication that something is spiritually wrong? Is it even possible to feel really alive EVERY day? I worry, on days like today, that I won't ever remember how to get past this 'dead' feeling. Worse yet, I worry that I won't ever have the energy to even try. Then again, I've felt this way before ... lots of times. So that in itself is a little bit of consolation. This, too, will probably pass. But why did it come in the first place?

leading from beside

I've been reading The Wounded Prophet by Henri Nouwen. It's remarkable, actually, how contemporary the book feels, though it was written before I was even born! I thought post-modernism was a 90's thing, but he's already talking about it in 1970. Nouwen so perceptively analyses the culture around him and forcasts the future of Christian leadership. In effect, he says, "Change, or your ministry will be worthless to this generation!" He describes a generation of youth who are no longer enamored with their fathers and trying to please those in authority. Instead, they seek spirituality inwardly and acceptance from their peers. Ministers of the gospel must be unafraid to venture into the depth of their own soul so that they can ably lead others to wholeness in a fragmented world. Leaders who fear what is inside them will be unable to speak deeply to this generation, he says. Rather than speaking as a father, from "above" your listeners, you must be beside them in the fray of life.

Lord, give me courage to see myself as I really am, and to bring everything I find to You. Remind me that nothing is beyond your ability to redeem. Make me the kind of person who can walk beside the hurting and the questioning and be truly present to them in their struggle. I depend on You for living water to fill my own thirsty soul, enough to spill over into the lives of those you've gathered around me.

confessions of a thirsty soul

In the past week I have watched 3 movies - Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, Princess Diaries 2, and Seabiscuit. The first 2 were obviously written for high school girls, whose biggest quest (at least according to the entertainment industry) is for personal identity & being noticed by a handsome young man. While entertaining, they were far from realistic. I laughed, groaned, and, of course, hoped for Lola and Mia's eventual success, but it was not a soul-thirst-quenching experience. There was no overlap with my own life.
Seabiscuit was different. An unlikely group of men, all beat-up and disillusioned with life, come together against all odds and learn how to dream again. Perhaps the target audience is all of us who are struggling to make sense out of a life that seems a few fries short of a happy meal. Abandonment, grief, loss, abuse, anger, the lure of escape ... and a cautious hope cultivated through relationships set the scene for a moving drama. Better yet, it's true!
All these movies got me wondering, "What is it I really like in a movie?" For me, a movie worth watching wrestles with real life issues and comes through - not to perfection or utopia - but to a place of hope amidst pain. We all know that life on earth isn't 'happily ever after.' What we need to know is that there is another way to live in the midst of our struggles. Hope is not the absence of problems but the ability to look past them because we know that there is more to life than meets the eye.

that awful emptiness

A fellow thirsty soul and I have been talking (emailing, actually). We've wondered if what we're experiencing is a midlife crisis. Aren't we a little young for that? Perhaps, then, it's an extension of our adolescent search for identity?

We thought we already found our identity. We left Bible College with big dreams and a desire to really make a difference in the world. Were we kidding ourselves?

She says, "I think before college life seemed so full of possibilities and dreams ... then college was so busy ... but when I married and settled down into 'normal life' I was dismayed to see that I was living that 'boring' (though happy) life that my parents lived. They're great people, but they weren't changing the world as far as I could tell in high school. So when I realized I was/am doing the same thing, I guess I'm disappointed but I'm afraid to really do anything about it. I guess I have a desire to be 'radical', but a fear of actually being 'radical,' and I'm not even sure what it would mean to be 'radical.' So maybe that plays into the restlessness...."

She desribes the restless feeling. "I get this sense of emptiness and restlessness that feels horrible, and that is the time when I crave something pleasurable that doesn't satisfy... for me it's the time I often crave a movie (must watch movie, any movie!!!), but dread the moment that the movie ends because then, once again, I will be aware of that same awful emptiness."

We have both realized that God desires to fill us with His life-giving Spirit, and that we can tap into that resource at any time by cultivating a relationship with Him and by obeying what we know to be our task from Him. But, as she expresses so well, "Even knowing the 'cure' though, too many times I still choose the movie or the chocolate ... believing that common lie that if I just line up enough pleasures in succession, I'll never have to face the emptiness again."

So just how radical do we have to be to make a difference in the world?
Has every generation had to fight against the tide of disillusionment?
What about the days when the idea of being radical sounds exhausting?
When we try to tap into His life-giving power but still feel empty ... then what?
What happens if we face that awful emptiness head on?

We'd like to know what you think.

the invitation

"In the palace in the land of mercy

The King looked out from His throne

He saw the sick and the homeless and hungry

He saw me lost and without hope

And moved with compassion

He sent out His only Son

With the invitation to come

"This is your invitation

Come just the way you are

Come find what your soul has been longing for

Come find your peace

Come join the feast

Come in, this is your invitation

"So I stood outside the gates and trembled

In my rags of unworthiness

Afraid to even stand at a distance

In the presence of holiness

But just as I turned to go

The gates swung open wide

The Kind and His only Son

Are inviting us inside

"This is our invitation

Come sinner as you are

Come find what your soul has been longing for

Come find your peace

Come join the feast

Come in, this is your invitation

This is our invitation

This is the invitation"

-Stephen Curtis Chapman & Geoff Moore, 1999 (from Speechless)

"It is a sign of spiritual maturity when we can give up our illusory self-control and stretch out our hands to God. But it would be just another illusion to believe that reaching out to God will free us from pain and suffering. Often, indeed, it will take us where we rather would not go. But we know that without going there we will not find our life. '...anyone who loses his life ... will find it' (Matthew 16:25), Jesus says, reminding us that love is purified in pain.

"Prayer, therefore, is far from sweet and easy. Being the expression of our greatest love, it does not keep pain away from us. Instead, it makes us suffer more since our love for God is a love for a suffering God and our entering into God's intimacy is an entering into the intimacy where all of human suffering is embraced in divine compassion. To the degree that our prayer has become the prayer of our heart we will love more and suffer more, we will see more light and more darkness, more grace and more sin, more of God and more of humanity. To the degree that we have descended into our heart and reached out to God from there, solitude can speak to solitude, deep to deep and heart to heart. It is there where love and pain are found together."

-Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life, 149-150, emphasis mine

success

A friend asked me this morning, "When you get to the end of your ministry year, how will you know you have been successful?"

My first thought was that my definition of success has really changed because of this valley. Perhaps I would have said: linguistic fluency, converts, thriving programs, captivating prayer letters, a growing ministry team. But I've learned that there is little I can do to control these things. More importantly, I've learned that even if all these goals were realized I may still have missed the mark.

So what, then, would success look like? Perhaps it has more to do with my heart. Am I depending on Him? Loving others from a pure heart? Will I be more patient and self-controlled than I am today? Will I be known for gentleness and joy?

These goals are possible no matter what my circumstances. No matter where I live, what I'm doing, how people respond to me, or what tragedy befalls us.

Will I still be thirsty? I sure hope so.