An imploring and fervent affirmation to trust

Heart longs and soul strives for what cannot be had without trust. As two sides of the one coin, fear and faith abide.

Works abide in fear, as if we could do something within our own messes to get ourselves out of these messes. But faith abides in something always well beyond us and our own efforts, not that our own efforts aren’t required—they are—just not in the way we typically invest.

This then is an invocation to trust.

Trust, O heart, of all insolence and greed, of all envying and prying, of all indolence and impropriety, of all despairing because life is too hard. One life is all that one has. Repent of all that is death.

Make life for what it is into what can be. Mould out of the clay of one’s life enough substance for something meaningful in the spiritual realms. But trust God to do what only God can do. Then what is built is built to last and will be the stuff of legacy.

We sense the Almighty’s direction, we discern it from afar, from decades ago, even as we have known ourselves, and we sensed our Lord moving us to do what only in God’s strength can be done.

So we hope.

If we find we’re faint in the department of hope, if trust seems a bridge too far, and if faith has been tried and found wanting, we have one more opportunity to apply diligence. Then, one more. And so on. Get my drift?

The diligence in view is of letting go; of coveting less to nothing; of insisting that life is not about our control over it, but our agreeance that God is in control and that is best for us and all who abide by life.

Don’t accede to the voices that cower at the doorstep of your weakness; but in weakness, trust. Do what can be done by you and you alone. In weakness trust is easier. It’s harder by far to find the fresh effort to give up in anger. It is easier by far to say, “This is too much for me…,” and instead to finish the sentence with “… I need help,” rather than end hope with a cavalcade of fury by saying, “To hell with it all.”

Sure, there are times when we would gladly (perhaps not truly gladly!) throw in the towel. But after a few moments to consider the consequences of our actions that would sabotage our lives, we consider it’s easier to swallow our pride and build for a new foray into the arena.

We search for that which would inspire us, if not just to feel a little better in the instance of despair. Then, we sense that truth again that the very best of victories come from the dust and ash, before we mount up on wings of eagles again, to soar the rarefied glades where air’s thin enough to resist us no more.

In this affirmation to trust, the reader is implored to do what only they themselves can do. Stop trying so hard. Start trusting by letting go of the things we cling so tight to.

Whatever we do, we’re entreated to invest in the concept of possibility, of opportunity, of cherishing the time we have. And where that is even too much, we imbibe them as thoughts and invite our soul to linger there.

Trust is a whole lot easier than we ever realise it to be, but we must overcome our will that must have things our own way. With trust, we get things better than that. With trust we release our tensile grip on what could never be ours, to grasp what could only ever be ours.

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Overcoming adversity by responding via functional denial

100% of the articles I’ve written about denial speak negatively about it. This article is an exception. There is such a thing as functional denial, where someone may overcome their adversity through the mindset of positive endeavour.

Functional denial in a person with a terminal illness isn’t them denying the reality they’ll die sooner than they’d wish, but it’s about functioning as if the reality was anything like that dire. They know they’ll die, but they use a positive mindset to wring the most out of every conscious moment. They just stop fixating on the obvious, knowing that fixating on it improves nothing and just makes living miserable.

The person who is grieving the loss of their loved one cannot deny the fact of their grief, but they can know, in not being able to escape their anguish, that they can function better by denying it.

By endeavouring to live as full a life as one can, in being grateful for the few reprieves they receive, and learning to live those moments the best they can, more of life comes.

When we’re grieving, we don’t need to worry that we’ll forget that we’re grieving—we cannot forget. So, why would we not ‘function’ better by denying the weight that otherwise so obviously burdens us so?

If we find ourselves triggered by certain environments, people or situations, we could do worse than choose beforehand to intentionally ‘deny’ what could (and may still will) overwhelm us. Part of this is about visualisation, of preparation, of doing whatever we can to put ourselves into the best position.

The overall method in using functional denial is endeavour, which is underpinned by a hope that refuses to be overcome. Call it resilience if you will, but there’s a faith that fights against adversity to the extent that our endeavour (our enterprise, our industry, our striving, our diligent courage) refuses to accept diminuation as an outcome we would settle for.

Functional denial is what people do when they adopt what the apostle Paul wrote about in Philippians 4:8-9… “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about these things.”

Paul was the example of the early church in this practice of what we call ‘the replacement principle’, i.e. replace thoughts of negativity which speak defeat, with thoughts of possibility that lead to actions of resilient response to adversity.

So, not all denial is bad. If we function by choosing to deny what we very well know is undeniable, we find a way of living life where we refuse to be beaten, where we are disciplined enough to endeavour to rid ourselves of any sign of dysfunction.

It’s not about ‘success’ as much as it is about the desire not to give up.

We know we’re living with great endeavour when we rise from what seems like it is a day of defeat, by saying, “This day did not go well… I feel crushed… but tomorrow I determine to try again… this grief may defeat me one day, but it won’t defeat me overall.”

A prayer of intervention against the crushing panic attack

Lord of all comfort and consolation,

For the person experiencing tremendous dread welling up to a wall of panic, I bring to You this prayer of intervention, to enliven their spirit to recognise the awesome reality of Your Presence with them.

This person is facing a torrent of fear and a groundswell of terror threatens to overwhelm them this very minute. As those seconds slow down to become minutes, as this hour becomes to them like a full day, present Hope to them in such a way as they see it, give them a vision of Your peace, and even inspire them to a joy that transcends their understanding as to why.

The full fury of Your enemy is inbound and creating overwhelming confusion and uncertainty. Give this one the spaciousness of Your grace to defend with shield and buckler this state of impending peril. Give them practical escape, a way out, a refuge that opens up, a doorway that can only come through You.

You are the everlasting God, who opened the seas and made way for the Exodus, who saved Your people from the flames of the fiery furnace, who goes before the travailing through all generations, right to the present moment, eternally. You are all powerful and wholly trustworthy. I pray all Your power go to them now! I pray they reach out in trust, that they do all You require of them this moment as they seek Your covenant protection.

I pray Your healing to their innermost parts even as they deal with this inner skirmish, even as they wrestle with what seems to confound them; give them the answer they need for their time.

Be with them in the moment of peril and bring them through this moment through a stillness they find is palpable and refreshing in the face of tyranny.

Even now, as they draw down and deep within, feeling the attack grip, anxiety willing the response of paralysis, create movement, Lord; create space mentally, range emotionally, possibility spiritually.

As the moment breaks forth, as this person feels staid, in the state of being afraid, bring forth recognition of their courage, insight of their pluck, affirmation of their fortitude, and show them that their mettle is borne on the wings of staying still in presence of this confrontation. Give them what they need, right now, Lord!

And even as they settle, having made for safety, whether a different environment or to a person for support or technique they’ve employed or something else that worked, give them even more space for clarity, for wit, for the grace to be gentle with themselves. And give them insight for information on what to learn from this most present of experiences and equip them for a rapid response for next time.

Most of all, Lord, reassure the person encumbered in attack that it’s not their fault, it’s nothing to be ashamed about or hidden, and that it’s nothing to do with their level of spiritual maturity. Just encourage them, God.

I pray this prayer in the name of Jesus—the author and perfector of our faith, especially because of weakness,

AMEN.

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Alienation that bleeds all the way through to the soul

Mother’s and Father’s Days have a marketing allure that is only matched by realities of disappointment in the real world. For all the mass hysteria of expectation generated by these halcyon days, by far and away the most probable outcome is disappointment. Such is life, you might be heard to say.

No, worse. For so many, these days are atrocious. I know there were years when after such days, as a separated father who desperately missed his kids, that I would sob inconsolably for hours after returning my daughters home to their mother. I knew it was right that they go back home, that they were generally okay, but I just missed them terribly. It only got a little better when I married again. But at least I had someone to cry with.

Father’s and Mother’s Days remind me more of grief than of ecstatic enjoyment the marketing gurus would have us buy. These days remind me more of what is wrong, exhausting, hard and difficult about family, than of bliss, and this worldview is supported through a broader experience than merely my own.

The man who wants his kids but is refused them, the woman who wants her kids’ father around, the man who won’t have a bar of his kids, the woman who refuses her kids’ father access to them, and so many more impossible situations are on my heart right now.

If a father wants his kids, and he’s prepared to devote his life to their wellbeing, he’s got his priorities right. If he’s alienated, he must dig deeply within. It may be beyond his present will, but if he wants them, he will do whatever it takes to earn his way back into their lives. He can’t demand respect, but he can win it. It’s worth the hard graft.

Likewise, for the woman who wants her kids’ father around; she may have no recourse to that desire, but she can work toward a life where a significant male role model can sow into her family’s life. She believes in her children that much that she believes in faith that a solid male role model is worth hoping for, not that she can’t be an effective role model herself. I’ve always maintained that one loving parent is enough, and infinitely enough as compared with no parental love—especially if there are two parents but no love.

The man who doesn’t want a bar of his kids is a fool. If there is ever a day when he’ll honestly face his reality, he will face scorn and regret. It’s the same for the mother who could have her kids’ father around, but won’t, because he won’t be manipulated, and she can’t bear over him the control she desires to inflict. If only she could be honest, she’d face a world of sorrow and regret for what her kids are missing out on. There will come a day when it is all too late.

There are cases of abuse that preclude certain parents’ access. These, however, while they do happen, are not the norm. If the father loses his kids because he lacks respect for his former partner—the mother of his children—however, then he’s got a decision to make as a man. Is he going to learn some humility or insist that he remain a child? Every day wasted is a day wasted, but it’s also a day where his children will only see despicability in their father.

There’s so much grief in families, and children bear the brunt of it. Where fathers are estranged, it’s heartbreaking where they would be part of their children’s lives for their betterment. But children who have been deserted by their fathers are understood when they’re envious of children whose fathers are active in their lives. If a woman denies her children’s father with no good reason, she brings grief on her entire family. These and many other situations cause an alienation of soul and spirit and that bleeds its way all the way through to the soul.

We ought to always seek ways that the alienation of human beings be avoided. It rots not only one human’s soul, it rots entire families.

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Humility don’t come easy but it sure is a delight… for others

It’s a daily experience that flies under the radar the majority of the time. Every frustration, every inconvenience, every time we don’t get our way, and even in the portion of pain, there is a time—an opportunity—for humility.

Let me take you deep into one of my most recent moments: we have been getting some electrical work done in our house. Improved lighting, better power points, and the like. When the electrician arrived this morning, he knocked on the door and said, looking to the heavens, with his friendly, engaging smile, “It’s not good news, I’m afraid.” The forecast for a storm and 80mm (3”) of rain meant climbing on the roof wasn’t such a good idea. As an ex-safety professional, I certainly understood. He arrived sick on Monday and quickly returned home. He’s already been on the job two full days (it was supposed to take two days). And he’s a lovely older guy.

But I was watching myself as I heard these words. I know the nature of my heart. Part of me wants my way, part of me doesn’t want to rock the boat, and another part of me wants to see if there’s any innovative way to solve the problem at hand. It can be a real internal battle even if I do have the countenance of peace.

Here was part of the range of the thoughts and feelings running through me:

·      “… don’t you want these parts of the job?” – the part of my heart that sees I wouldn’t want to do this work.

·      “… I didn’t expect this… Steve, you didn’t expect this… okay, so what now?” – the part of my heart that doesn’t like surprises.

·      “… he’s right. Look up and see for yourself.” – the part of my heart that is compelled to wrestle with truth.

·      “… wow, if only he knew how much work we’ve done to prepare the house (twice now) for this! This is a ‘massive’ inconvenience.” – the part of my heart that sees first world problems as bigger than they actually are.

·      “… I wonder if he can be talked around…” – the part of my heart that resembles ‘the player’.

·      “… stop making this out to be bigger than it is, Steve!” – the part of my heart that sees things realistically.

·      “… but my wife really wants this work done!” – the part of my heart not wanting to disappoint someone I love.

This was literally a moment of time in the context of my life, and whilst not all our moments bear such unanticipated displeasure, we do face many of these moments, and some days are filled with them!

In moments where we are rattled by disappointment, surprise, frustration, betrayal and the like, we have our greatest opportunities to be humble, because humility isn’t required until we’re tempted into pride.

The way we handle our disappointments, the horrible surprises, our frustrations and betrayals are evidence of our humility or lack thereof. Humility, whilst it seems the champion of all virtue, is hard won. It never feels virtuous. It feels as if we’re losing out, and the very best of this is the delight we can enjoy that someone is blessed.

And people are really blessed when we smile pleasantly instead of becoming angry. People are blessed when we restrain our initial emotion, when we exercise patience and self-control.

There is no shortcut to humility. It always requires a sacrifice. We can only ever be humble each moment as it comes. But, as we sow in humility, resisting the overtures of pride to have our own way, we reap untold blessings in the relational realm, and these may encourage our hearts to keep the faith.

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What you’d do to be back there, IN the pain

Five years ago, about now, we were holidaying; the four of us. Now as we consider taking a little break soon there are three. It all feels interminably normal, until the collection of our thoughts turns to who is missing. Like the moment it dawned on our son (when he was 5) that his brother didn’t live and there were instant tears. What he would do for a brother to play with!

It’s like saying goodbye to the person you love who visits for a time, then leaves, and neither of you know when you’ll see each other next, especially if ever. What an incredible void is created; a spiritual vacuum that nothing on this earth can amend. And yet there are the purposes of God in this. These are the depths of love outbound of loss that furrow so deep in sadness they reach down to the other side of the world and out into space and keep going.

Then I think back to 3 years ago. If five years ago was hard, for me personally, three years ago to the day was so much harder. As a person looks back to that 2016 period, the worst year of that person’s life thus far, such a milieu of silent grief, it was made all the starker because the more public grief was over. Something happened in silence at that time that should not have happened. And silent grief in this way is anguish atop abandonment.

Part of him wants to disassociate from that person who was abandoned. And yet another part of him can hardly believe that that person in him got through such a time. That person wore all the responsibility back then. That person reeled out a narrative that cared for the reputations of others even while he torched his own reputation for taking all the responsibility for how things went down. Let the record be straight. That person could be dead tomorrow.

Wanting to dissociate from painful experiences is normal within the existential. The experiences of scarring imprint themselves on our psyches, and we’re left with no reparation other than therapy and time and our own processing in order to make meaning of what shouldn’t have happened.

But a big part of me wants to be back there, at the time before everything went wrong, before we lost our son. A big part of me has moved on, but an equally big part of me laments for what happened, for what took place.

There’s a big part of all of us that laments for a time when we were pushed to the point of despair. We never forget what that pain cost us, but that sense of being pushed beyond your limits, dims with time. But if we’re not careful, if it doesn’t matter to us, we can all too quickly forget what it cost us, the faithfulness of God to get us through those days, and what we hoped for, which is possibly only now coming to pass. Yet, as we cherish what we got through, we’d be back there in a flash; even for a five-minute sojourn to sense with our senses the taste, the sight, the touch, the smell, and the sound of a grief that overcame us. And the bizarre thing is we wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

We know we’ve definitely recovered from our grief when we experience grief that that part of our lives is over. See how a sorrow couched in acceptance is both good and sad at the same time.

It seems absurd to say “what I’d do to be back there, IN the pain,” but the experience has become part of us, what we lost was precious, and there is something sacred that we take from such a time that is a loss when we lose recall of it.

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One keystroke from brokenness to wholeness

Most of our lives we make our best of efforts in the direction of effort. In giving all of ourselves to the quest for change, we tend to make a meal of what could otherwise be a powerful work of God.

Like everything in life, we make the path straight for ourselves when we get out of God’s way and allow divine forces for good to have their way in and through us to the glory of the Lord.

But such things are interminably difficult for us because we’re all, of a sense, control freaks when it comes to our own lives. We want change and the things that we feel God is calling for us to do to get there, but at various points along the journey we fail to trust, fear gets in the way, and our love for not-so-good things besmirches our opportunities to redeem wholeness from areas of brokenness in our lives.

Just as God’s plan for our lives is just and wholly good, our Lord gives us the simplest of cues for how to step forward; from whatever position of life we find ourselves.

Take the symbol of a keystroke. The simplest of figures that is literally typed billions of times every day.

You know the keystroke! It’s the semi-colon. It depicts an incomplete sentence. What comes after the semi-colon further defines the previous section of the sentence. Indeed, the semi-colon clarifies the previous part of the sentence and gives the whole sentence meaning. And the most inspiring life stories are come-from-behind, against-the-odds stories motion pictures are made of. Such stories make us believe what is the very best about life. And all of us want such a life story.

The semi-colon literally means that the future is open, that the past has only certain relevance, and that everything turns on how we use the present.

We all need hope. But some need more hope than others. Or, better put, there are times in all our lives when we seem to need hope more desperately than at other times.

The symbol of the semi-colon suggests that we transcend the past, the reputation, the limits, and the barriers that would otherwise hold us away from achieving what would give us hope for change.

And if we seek with all our heart to convert our brokenness into wholeness, acknowledging that reliance on God will lead us all the way there, with the concept of the semi-colon, we have the belief that we have both the method and the vision to get there.

No matter what you’ve been through, no matter what plagues you, no matter what your internal scripts are, and no matter how arduous the way forward is, you can do it. God can be read in the Scriptures as saying, “Look to me! Rely on me! Do not rely on your own understanding.” (For instance, Proverbs 3:5-6)

God is calling each of us at every point in our lives to live a semi-colon kind of life. Nothing speaks to the purposes of life itself amid the context of each of our lives better than the concept of the semi-colon. What is now and what is coming is all that is relevant.

The past, more and more as time goes on, has less and less relevance. God calls us constantly to transcend the ‘pasts’ that hold us apart from our potential.

Do you see how GOOD God is?

That dark descent into dread isn’t your fault

Oh, I’ve had them, I can certainly tell you that I’ve had them—those dangerous descents down the slippery slope of despair, not knowing how or why or why so quickly.

Sometimes it’s a soul sense of sadness that has no rhyme or reason, that reveals no source, and gives no clues as to how or why it came. At other times, there was stimulus, either too much stimulus or the production of the negative, and discouragement came mounted on the wings of the biblical leviathan or behemoth. And then there are the times when something of unknown origin becomes the trigger. None of these are flights of fancy beyond the pale. They are all curiously common.

That dark descent into dread isn’t your fault. You need to know that, don’t you? You need to know that in the midst of being pulled down with the suction force of water going down a drain that you would prevent it if you could.

Ultimately, we can do something about the long-term pattern reaction to the seasonal trend of these dark descents. But this article isn’t about that.

This article is about resolving the kind of matter that is beyond your control, so you may have peace and a lessening of shame and guilt, for shame and guilt and a lack of peace never had anything to do with healing.

God loves you no matter what—whether
you’re susceptible to the dirge or not.

We are enough. No matter who we are or whatever we’re susceptible to. You would not believe the weaknesses, addictions, secrets, fears and phobias, and other vulnerabilities your neighbour is harbouring. You are not alone. We are measured with the commonalities of humanity far more than we are with the frail aloneness of our, at times, fragile minds and failing hearts.

Travelling the deep dark descent, without word or gong of warning, is frightening to us and for those bystanders who love us. None of us enjoy that pitch-dark descent. But we can be encouraged to know that we can be there for one another; that our strength is in our unity, if only we can be weak together. And where there is such weakness, there is much maturity, for humility mounts up on the wings of reality, and one who can be weak without feeling berated is someone adept at accepting what they cannot control. And out of such acceptance comes the want and wherewithal to act upon the climb. We descend so as to ascend.

It’s not your fault when you sink in a moment. Feeling inadequate or worthless or useless are commensurate reactions. All so predictable. If only we had the awareness, the insight into our condition, enough to call ourselves to gentleness with ourselves; to experience the kindness we could truly do with; the gentleness and kindness we would issue to anyone else in empathy for their descending into darkness. It’s time for us to partake of our own empathy.

Some things we need to tuck away for a necessary moment; for when that moment comes and for when we need the reminder. Some things are useful to be kept, tucked up safe in a known place where retrieval would be efficient and easy.

When we’re giving life our very best and for some reason we just don’t seem to measure up, what life throws at us is a lie. We know deep within that we are enough. Be gentle, refute the lie, don’t fight the descent, go with it, and when you come to rest at the bottom, make your climb from there.

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The very best response to failure

I really don’t know why it takes us so long to discover this truth: the very best response to failure is to take responsibility for what we, alone, can do to learn, to grow, and ultimately to change.

But change does not come without a change of heart. It’s like the person who promises to change and never does, simply because all they have is their willpower. 

You need more than willpower to institute sustained behavioural change.

What is needed is a change of heart, that sees the need to change from a very visceral level. It’s almost like, the need to change comes from within, because the heart has seen how damaging or inefficient or futile the previous way was.

So many people in life never ultimately change, even though they make many attempts, simply because they cannot take responsibility that the buck stops with them.

The moment we take responsibility for what we have failed to do is the moment we establish what is called, in psychology speak, an internal locus of control. Having an internal locus of control suggests that things don’t just happen to us, but that we are integrally part of the dynamic. Internal locus of control, though it might sound tough to take responsibility at times for what is not ours, is, in other words, empowerment.

Having an external locus of control, on the other hand, means we see that ‘stuff’ happens to us, that we cannot be to blame, and therefore we do not have control. This is a chosen disempowerment. Not good!

Think of it this way. The more we protect ourselves by resisting the blame, especially to the point of blaming others, the more we reduce our only source of empowerment, because we essentially believe other people have more control over us than we have over our own results. This is an unwise way of living. We refuse to take the only control we have to take.

If only we can accept that occasionally we will fail, and if only we can take responsibility for that failure—all of our own contribution—we can learn a great deal, and in learning a great deal, we refuse to be controlled by external means.

By refusing to control others by blaming them,
we take the fullest control available to us.

Isn’t that liberating! The more responsibility we take, the more freedom we experience, because the more responsibility we can take, the less fear of failure controls us.

The more responsibility we take, the less we blame others, the better our relationships are, and all the more respect flows as a result, and that produces great peace which comes from great rectitude.

If we desire success, and every single human being does, we need to understand that taking responsibility is the very best response the failure. Only when we take responsibility amid failure do we demonstrate we’re fitted with the character for success.

If we were rather to blame others in the case of failure, we lose every sense of credibility, and our world sees that we would rather blame others than get on with getting it right next time. Blaming others not only burns relationships, it is a waste of time.

Think how inspiring it is whenever someone is not defined by their failures. When they get up off the canvas, when they show up the day after defeat, when they are determined to practice past a failing technique, and when they keep coming back, we admire such a person. Every. Single. Time. They show us what we all want to embody. Sure, dwelling within the failure at the time is a wretched experience, but how humbly we dwell in it says a lot about our character. It says a lot about our mental, emotional and spiritual resilience. But those who cannot bear such humiliation will not improve for they’re too busy minimising their own contribution.

The very best response to failure is to keep going, to resist blaming others, to define the positive in the negative, and to convert the disappointment into an opportunity.

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A prayer for those experiencing soul exhaustion

God of all consolation and comfort

For the one who is inundated with grief, forlorn with a soul sorrow that brings them not only to fatigue but to exhaustion, who contends with a contention that seems broken from hope, encourage Lord, give the peace of a joy that transcends their reality.

For the one at the end of their tether—You know which one—many is the one—give them a reason and the reasonability to continue, to hold out one more day, then one more, and so on. For this person, their purpose has faded to null or the pain they bear has become all too real or it always was. Alleviate, Lord. Send Your mighty troop of angels to their stead.

For the one whose flame is barely flickering, for the whose flame fizzled out long ago, fan and revive, Lord, and give attention to the haste at which this help can arrive. Breathe Your Spirit. Glory in them. Bring them to a life that they scarcely believed possible.

For the one who is despondent and discouraged, grace them with an encouragement and a hope that can only come from You, even in spite of their circumstances. We know, Lord, You are capable of these spiritual feats. Break them clear of holding their identity in the things they do, but show them their covenant identity is in whose they are.

For the one who has all but given up on that relationship that grew toxic so long ago, grace them with the peace they could reconcile in a moment; a peace that sustains and attains a spiritual joy beyond all human explanation. For this one, who has rallied at Your behest, who has been compelled to continue upon Your quest, give them the sanctity of a holy union that brings unconquerable hope.

For all those experiencing soul exhaustion—whether in the day of spiritual attack, whether by season within the warfare, whether by a life of confoundedness—give to each one the gift of life amid their experience of existential death.

Only You can do it!

In Jesus’ mighty and precious name,

AMEN.

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