One of Those Times

Do you ever have those times when you fall into a funk?  Something happens or maybe something doesn’t happen, but somehow you fall into this state of being where your world doesn’t feel like it used to.

And you desperately want to get back to normal (whatever the heck that is or was).

But as you try to figure out how to get back to normal, you have no idea what to do to get back there because you don’t even know exactly it was or why things got un-normal. 

You do things in your routine like you normally would.  You eat good food.  You exercise.  You hang out with and talk with good people who you trust.  You try to do those things that usually made you normal. 

But nothing seems to work.

Then you come to realize that so much has changed that you fear what was once normal will never be normal again.  What was once that comfortable state, where you had things figured out, where it wasn’t always perfect but at least you understood things…you knew who you were and what your purpose was…that “normal” is no longer even remotely possible. 

There are times when you realize that life doesn’t always bring you down the path of least resistance.  When you can’t take the easy way out.  When what you are meant to do isn’t what you thought you wanted.  There are times when people need you to do and be what you’d prefer not to.  When God needs you to do the really hard work.  When God wants you to grow and be more than you thought you could be.  When God asks you to trust.  When God asks you to be the person God meant you to be even though it requires sacrifice and patience and perseverance and lots of other virtues you would rather not practice.  

Now is one of those times.

Usually when I write, I gain some perspective on the experiences I’m writing about as I write.  Through writing things become clearer for me and I find the words to express what is going on in the chaos of my mind and my soul.  There have been many times when I have a moment of insight and I’m able to understand whatever circumstance I’m writing about and I’m able to sum it up in a clear way with a tidy conclusion.

Now is not one of those times. 

A Slammed Door

There’s the cliché metaphor about God opening and closing doors.  I’m not entirely sure how theologically accurate it is to think that God opens doors (provides opportunities for us by smoothing out the way to get to those opportunities) and closes doors (God actively prevents us from doing something).  There are some situations where I think God does actively work like this but there are other situations where we may use the metaphor as a way to cover up other factors or forces that are actually working.

Whatever theological limitations there are on this metaphor it has been helpful to make sense of a difficult situation.

God closed a door on an opportunity I was pursuing. 

When I tried to enter the door, God slammed that door right in my face and sternly yelled from the other side of the door something to the effect of “Melissa, what did you think you were doing?  Was I not clear that this was not where I wanted you to go???  Why are you so unhappy with what I have given you right now??  Stay where you are!”  A huge door slammed directly in my face.  A loud slamming door with God on the other side of that door leaving me alone in a pitch-dark hallway with absolutely nowhere to go and no path leading me to whatever was next.  This hallway was scary and terrifying and confusing.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  I had begged God to be with me through all this because I didn’t know how to do it alone.  I didn’t even have a clue where or how to pick up and begin again once the door closed.  All I could focus on was that closed door and the harsh loud sound it made when it slammed shut. 

But after a while the sound of the door slamming faded.  Or maybe I had imagined the sound all along.  Yes, a door definitely closed, but maybe it was closed in a different manner than I had first imagined.  Maybe it was more like God closing the door while gently saying, “No, Melissa, not right now.  Come back later.”  Or maybe God softly closed the door because God knows it just wasn’t a door I should be going through even though that’s what I thought I wanted.  Or maybe God opened that door so I could look in and see it but then God is trying to tell me, “Melissa, you see how wonderful and beautiful that is?  Well, I’ve got something planned for you that is even better.”

As I was able to think about the door closing in a different way it eased the pain but not completely.  When you see so much beauty and possibility behind a door, it is impossible to forget it.  You cannot erase the thoughts of what might have been.

When people use the metaphor about God closing doors, a closed door almost always means God is opening another door for you, and I think that’s true.

However, I don’t yet see the open door and it really stinks right now (to put it nicely).  But what I didn’t realize when I was focusing on a slammed door is that there are at least nightlights in the hallway.  And I’m not alone in the hallway.  I’ve got the best Guide in the universe walking with me who will help me knock on doors.  And there are some really amazing cheerleaders cheering me on and supporting me in the hallway.  

Awkward Saturday

The proper term for today in the church year is “Holy Saturday”, but if they had asked me I would have called it “Awkward Saturday.”  It’s awkward because it is the day in between the greatest tragedy in history and the most triumphant event in history and it leaves me trying to figure out how one is supposed to feel and act on such a day.

We are supposed to be in mourning because Jesus was crucified on the cross, a horrific painful undeserved death that we remember each Good Friday.  But I know that tomorrow I won’t have to mourn because Christians around the world will be celebrating Jesus’ resurrection from the dead.  So why waste time and emotion mourning?  Why bother feeling the guilt and pain of knowing that I and my sins are the reason Jesus had to die?  It would be so much easier to just bypass that sorrow and celebrate but then I feel guilty for not recognizing the sorrow of the crucifixion. 

Even if I could figure out some sort of compromise between mourning and rejoicing, doing anything besides mourning and doing anything besides rejoicing would tarnish either extreme.  It’s awkward.

And so on Awkward Saturday I am forced to embrace the tension between Friday and Sunday, to struggle to find a balance, to consider all that the tension means.

But what really frustrates me is that the awkwardness doesn’t stop on Easter Sunday.  In reality, an awkwardness on a whole deeper level began that first Easter Sunday.  It is the awkward period of time in history, that in-between period when we know Jesus is coming back some day to restore the world to the perfect creation that God created in the beginning but we still have to wait for an unknown amount of time in this mess of a world for him to come back.

It’s not just awkward like an uncomfortable awkward conversation you have with someone you just met.  It’s an acute tension between now and what is to come.  The tension between the complete brokenness of humanity and the earth and a world of perfection on a level we cannot even comprehend.

Humanity has been waiting for about 2000 years and I’ve often felt impatient waiting while there is so much suffering, brokenness, and anguish.  I know I should continue to have hope and look forward to what is to come, but I often can’t see past the suffering and our feeble attempts to repair the brokenness of our world.

We must live in the awkwardness and the tension.  It is the longing for restoration that drives us to work for restoration, to turn to God and seek what we can do to be a part of God’s plan for restoration.

Just like the resurrection means nothing without the crucifixion, the restoration of creation means nothing without experiencing the brokenness of it, without struggling to understand, without so many failed and some successful attempts to create a better world.

What I Didn't Learn about Myself from Surfing: Part 2

In my last post I wrote about learning to surf in San Diego and some of the things about myself that prevented me from surfing well.  In the end, I realized I already knew these things about myself but I also came to appreciate some of my strengths in my surfing experience:

I’m not afraid of learning new things or experiencing new things (even sometimes scary things).  I had traveled across the country by myself, to a city I had never been to, where I knew no one.  I was in the Pacific Ocean with a surfboard and a surf instructor I had just met.  As Randy and I were about knee deep in the water, he told me about the jellyfish.  Apparently sometimes there are jellyfish in the water by the sandbar we were on, and they sting.  So Randy showed me how to do the “Jellyfish shuffle” by more slowly moving my feet forward rather than taking big steps in order to allow the critters to move out of the way before stepping on them.  Randy told me a few other people learning how to surf had gotten stung. 

I don’t give up easily.  I don’t even know how many dozens of times I fell off that surfboard.  Sometime I barely even managed to get going forward in a wave.  But time after time I forced my way back out against the waves to try again.  When I failed to get up using one method of getting up on the board I tried another way.   I was determined to surf and my actions reflected it.

I’m not afraid to fail.  While I had visions in my mind of me surfing like the professional surfers, I had a pretty good idea that this wouldn’t be the reality.  I knew learning to surf would be hard and I knew I wouldn’t be an instant success, but I did it anyway.  Also, I wasn’t afraid to fail big.  I’m really glad there weren’t many people on the beach that day because I’m sure some of my falls were some of the most ungraceful things I’ve done in my life.

I’m not afraid to dream and do what it takes to make my dream a reality.  As far as dreams go, learning to surf isn’t a huge or important dream, but it is something that I’ve wanted to do for a while so I made the plans and figured out a way to make it happen.

I know when it’s time to rest and renew.  This is something I’m still learning to be good at, but when I was surfing I demonstrated the skill well.   When I had tried my best, I had fallen more times that I could count, and I was just plain tired and hungry, I got some seriously delicious nachos and ate them on the beach while watching the clouds roll by and listening to the waves.

What I Didn’t Learn About Myself from Surfing: Part 1

I was in San Diego last weekend in part to cross something off my bucket list: learning how to surf.  I sort of learned how to surf.   I had a few decent surf rides, but I won’t be entering any surf competitions any time soon.

My surfing instructor, Randy, told me I was a challenge to teach.  He didn’t mean it in a bad way (although I immediately took it as an insult).   He meant that he was grateful for the challenge of trying to figure out the puzzle of the way my brain does/doesn’t communicate with my body and help me surf.   

Randy kept telling me that I needed to stop thinking about certain things and thinking in certain ways because this thinking was preventing me from standing up on the board and surfing.  However, I can assure you that there wasn’t much consciously going on in my brain other than wanting to be a cool surfer.  After I had returned the surfboard I continued to think about what Randy had told me about my thinking.  Maybe if I wasn’t actively thinking about the things Randy told me not to think about, perhaps it was on an unconscious level that I was thinking things that prevented me from succeeding.  This makes sense because the things that Randy told me were preventing me from surfing were the same things that I know I struggle with in life.

I’m afraid of failure and I think about failure too much.  Randy kept telling that I was thinking about falling.  He me that as long as I was looking to the side of the board rather than straight ahead toward the shore I was going to fall.  If I was looking to where I would fall, I would fall.

I am slow and too deliberate.  Randy wanted me to stop thinking about it as a bunch of different steps and just quickly push up, get my feet in the right position on the board, and stand up.  Instead I took things slowly, one step at a time.

I need to feel in control all the time.  I was taking it one step at a time because pausing at each step allowed me to make sure I was completely balanced before I went on to the next step.

I hold on to what I know rather than letting go of what is holding me back.  Even when I did manage to get my feet close to the right places on the surfboard and get into a somewhat upright position, often I failed to stand up all the way because I was left hanging onto the side of the board for stability.  I knew the board, I knew I was safe when I was holding on to the board, so I held on in an awkward half crouched position.  Randy told me to stop thinking about being unbalanced and just let go.

I didn’t learn anything new about myself.  I knew all this already and I was super frustrated that it prevented me from surfing well.  While my character flaws were evident in my struggle to surf, some of my character strengths came out too.  Wait for What I Didn’t Learn About Myself from Surfing: Part 2.