The Sanctuary of Life

I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly. John 10

Life. A simple word pulsing with complexity. As you reflect, what images come to mind? Answers emerge from the day-portraits of our years—fun, stressful, challenging, hard, i-wish-i-were-dead, boring, exciting, an adventure, depressing—but I wonder: how often do we ever say, abundant?

And what is an abundant life?

I believe that it is full, when our every sense is alive with wonder, expectancy, and thankfulness for God's grace and mercy. When we awake with purpose and live our moments along undercurrents of joy, even when tears fall with frustration or sadness, when we fume over traffic or agonize over an aching child. For when we are full, we are free to feel. When we are full, knowing we will not be rejected but are welcome just as we are, with no effort of our own, we are free to blossom, free to live and taste what God has given us to enjoy.

With no effort of our own. . .
Women acquainted with spiritual abuse know the depth, the burden of always trying. Of always doing, hoping to measure up one day and find approval within lined faces of austerity. Always darkness, there, for we are taught that it is the will of God to heed the voices which grieve us, which communicate that our best is never good enough.

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light. Matthew 11

These words of Jesus illustrate His heart for those burdened and exhausted from the law. Quite a contrast to the realities of our everyday agony while we stumble beneath the weight of  shoulds and oughts. These obligations shrill loudly, leaving us ashamed and guilty, as though fingers wag in our faces and declare aha! See, you are worthless! You are stupid! You can't do anything right!

Oh, dear friend! I know the torment of these obscenities! We could, each of us, list dozens of items which remind us we fall short.

• I should read the Bible more
• I should have dinner ready by now
• I should exercise today
• I should pray harder
• I should wear dresses
• I ought to speak more kindly
• I ought to turn the other cheek
• I ought to be happy

Don't truly good Christian women find these things easy? In and of themselves many of these things are good—however, all too often those of us raised in authoritarian environments consistently feel unacceptable, perpetually bearing the shame of disapproval. We are subtly taught we must perform or properly behave in order to receive love, affection, or attention, but even our hardest efforts leave us dry. It's confusing, overwhelming, and spiritually exhausting: why do the daily disciplines of godliness leave us feeling empty, drained, unloved? Why do we not feel rested as we kneel before the feet of Christ? 

To the contrary: we sink deeper into shame, proving to others and Jesus how weak, ungodly, and worthless we are.

Shame vs. guilt

It is important to understand the difference between guilt and shame. Healthy guilt produces repentance, restoration, and growth. However, shame drives us away from God, further from His healing rest. It enmeshes with our core until our very identity is toxic with lies—error that becomes the foundation of all we believe about ourselves.

To identify the roots of your feelings, it helps to ask:
Does this make me want to run to God? "Forgive me father, for I have sinned."
-OR-
Does this make me want to run away from God?  "I am so wicked; God cannot look upon sin. I just need to go and die."

Guilt is feeling regret over a committed wrong, externalized, and within proper context. I did a bad thing and I regret what I did. Shame is an emotion of perceived wrong, but internalized: I am bad. I always do bad things so that means I am worthless, no good, and should have never been born.

It can be extremely difficult overcoming a lifetime of shoulds and oughts. By ourselves, it is impossible. But Jesus wants you to become free. No more formulas, no more works, no effort. You don't need to do one more thing to receive His love, His freedom, and grace. He says, Come. Drop everything you are doing, and rest. Let me give you what you need. Let Me be your source.

What would your life be like, if you simply stopped? If you answered His gentle beckoning? Consider His words an invitation to sanctuary. Let Him allure your tired and weary heart—and you will find rest for your souls.

A whole new life awaits.

This is an adaptation of an earlier post. 

Vulnerable

This evening I am stepping away briefly from the general theme of this blog to reveal an intimate vignette from my recent journal that bears significance to the course of my journey.

Perhaps you might find a glimpse of yourself, reflected.

I am resisting the urge to issue disclaimers for balance, discernment, accountability, and truth. We know these things. I think that they have been emphasized greatly unto us.

Peace, dear sisters.

_______________________

Twilight.

Not the book, but the moment when day slips into her negligee, and the world nestles down for sleep.

I stand on my balcony.

The air is cool and I breathe deeply, refreshed as the sweet breath of dusk envelopes my skin. Spring's lush fingertips have painted a living masterpiece of greenery; recent rains have swept along gnarled roots, planting secret creatures among the twisted knots rising from the creek bed.

Suspended, it seems, miles in air, I watch a trio of brightly finned goldfish drift beneath me, a huge lazy turtle who paddles happily, slowly, and four growing ducklings who find an island of displaced wood which storms have lodged in the midst of our creek. Beavers have been spotted, and as always, the nightly cacophony of frogs lift their chorus to the darkening skies.

Peace, serenity.

As I drink the sensual cocoon of coming night, I realize that I cannot not enjoy it, for if I do, it will be taken away.

I cannot allow myself to revel in the lusciousness of soft evening breath, swirling across my face with the tender aroma of freshly mown grass. I cannot afford to pause a moment and savor, for it would only end, and the pain of life take over once more. I cannot exhale with the deliciousness of husband, creeping up behind, and wrapping arms around my waist.

I cannot enjoy it, for it will be taken away.

The little girl said that, speaking from her secret sanctum. There is wisdom cradled in her being—yet she holds it closely, dearly, and fiercely; she knows the inner mysteries that remain elusive despite my frantic seeking, yet speaks up only when I least expect. She tugs on my skirt, this wee one, and opens her mouth to whisper softly, briefly. Perhaps she waits to see if I will listen, to see if I am safe, to see if I can be trusted with the enigmatic messages she keeps locked away.

I cannot enjoy it, for it will be taken away.

That's enough, they say, and remove the pleasure, the fun, the savored morsels, the pretty things, the light things, the relief. That's enough relief. They are distracting from things more important: the necessary things in life.

Die to the flesh; die die die.

Loving something is to curse it, for loving is an element subject to rigorous discipline and scrutiny. We must not love the wrong things, or love even the right things too much. Doing so might prove that we are, in fact, absorbed by the lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.

Liking something too much means that it is material for sacrifice; we are to hold loosely to that which we find dear, to that which brings solace. If something appeals, it is automatically suspect.

Therefore, much like a friend held at arm's length, we must keep these things away from ourselves and not feel too much. Feeling too much means that there is undue focus on temporal things, which takes our mind off of the Lord. We must be sober and temperate, not given to the exuberance of living, not feeling with much passion—rather, be self-controlled and not given to foolishness. Feeling too much, loving the wrong things, having interest in unnecessary things welcomes pain through the door; it welcomes criticism, opportunities for chastisement, an invitation to die.

What do I say to the little girl?

The true God knows how to give good things to His children.
The true God delights in bringing joy to the hearts of those made in His likeness; it is not for nothing that He appealed to all senses in His glorious work.

Pushing these things away, in the name of godliness, denies His goodness. His blessings. He wants us to feel. He wants us to love, to savor, to live, knowing that "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. Of His own will He brought us forth by the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures." James 1

If we were not meant to feel, why would He have gifted the sense of touch?
If we were not meant to see, why would He have set our eyes, like jewels?
If we were not meant to hear, why would He have fashioned our ears, and sound, to meet them?
If we were not meant to taste, why would He have unleashed myriad flavors upon our tongues?
If we were not meant to smell, why would He have lavished us with fragrance?

He has given me my very own set of eyes, to see for myself—not for another to see for me.

He has given me my very own mind, so that I may think and reason, for myself and not for another to stomp upon and tell me what to think.

I have these ears, to listen, discern, and channel, for me and not for another. I am wholly individual and unique, created fully for the pleasure of He who is eternal. "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

God knows that all I have, all I am, belongs to Him. It is His will that I use, that I enjoy, and that I glorify Him with what He has given.

But how does the little girl know that loving something makes it go away?