Elizabeth’s

The Little Word that Frees Us {A Life Overseas}

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Elizabeth is over at A Life Overseas today, beginning a discussion on the pressures of ministry life for both adults and children.

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I believe, along with William Paul Young, that “since most of our hurts come through relationships, so will our healing.” Sometimes the Church gets stuck in damaging behavior patterns, and we, as a collective people, perpetuate beliefs in the lives of ministry families that simply aren’t true. Lies seep into our souls, and as a community we need to acknowledge them, wrestle with them, and ultimately, reject them – for there is a religious culture at work here that needs destroying.

I love the Church, and I believe one of the glorious reasons God places us in a local Body is so that we can “love each other deeply, from the heart,” and by so doing, participate in the healing of each other’s hearts. That is what these posts are about. Sharing our stories, and finding healing and wholeness together.

It is not about blaming parents or making anyone feel guilty. Rather, it is about mobilizing the Church to dismantle some of our harmful systems. It is about calling on Christians to change the way we do life together. Ministers, missionaries, and their families are the most notable casualties here, but the Body as a whole suffers when any member suffers. I believe we can be part of the healing.

But we need to do something first: we need to give ourselves permission to be honest.

You can read the rest of the post here.

For the times when you hold back the tears

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by Elizabeth

I’ve spent most of my life locked in my head. Keeping my emotions at bay, and not even realizing I was doing so.

I still do this, even though I know by now what’s going on inside of me. I can feel tears rising up inside me, begging to be poured out. But I shove them down and don’t engage.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I blink back the tears. I’m so good at this that I don’t even have to blink sometimes.

I can literally watch myself do this. It’s like an out-of-body experience. I can say to myself,“She’s locked in her head right now, refusing to deal with those pesky emotions. Why is she so stubborn??”

Why? Because emotions take time. They take energy. And after I engage my emotions, I seriously need a nap. So it’s easier for me to detach from them. It’s easier to ignore them.

It might not be easier in the long run. But in the short run, it’s certainly faster. Because I’ve got things to do. People are depending on me. I can’t take the time to deal with this. Crying won’t help my situation.

No, crying might not help my situation. But it might help me. When I’m done crying, my problem might not be better, but I am be better. My problem might not be solved, but I no longer feel like it’s insurmountable.

I don’t always let myself do that. I’m afraid that if I start crying, I won’t stop. I’m afraid it won’t fix my problem. And I’m all about solutions, people.

But. What if the tears are the solution? What if the tears allow my soul to say something that words can’t?

I need to feel.

I don’t always feel like feeling.

But I need to feel.

So today, if you’re like me, and you have a hard time accepting the fact that you’re human and that you have feelings in the midst of all the goals and tasks of life, I give you permission to feel.

And if it’s easier to shove the tears down your throat than to let them flow freely, I give you permission to cry. Cry as hard as you need, for as long as you need. Use all the tissues you need.

And if too much is going on in your life, and you don’t think you have the time to stop and cry, I still give you permission. After you’ve cried a little, or even a lot, you just might find you have the strength to carry on.

And when you’re finished, you can look up and remember that if I were with you today, I’d be sitting right beside you, with a tearful smile and a warm hug.

I promise.

 

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Something No One Told Me Might Happen {Velvet Ashes}

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Elizabeth is over at Velvet Ashes today, talking about how she unexpectedly found her gifts overseas:

About five years ago I said “yes” to the adventure of living overseas. I didn’t know all that might entail, but I knew I loved the God who had asked me to move, and I was determined to follow Him. I didn’t, however, know exactly what to expect.

I heard a little bit of what to expect at our pre-field training. There, someone warned me that stepping on a plane wouldn’t turn me into a different person, or magically make me a superhero Christian. No, I would be the same person as always, possessing the same old faults.

And that’s true — I didn’t turn into a different person. In fact, stepping off that plane and entering an unfamiliar culture had the additional effect of revealing my faults, of laying bare my sin problems and defects in character.

But something else happened, too. Something surprising and unexpected, something no one told me might happen: I discovered gifts I’d never had before. They were new and previously unknown gifts. But they were never meant for me – they were meant to be poured out for others. More importantly, they were meant to be poured out for Him.

You can read the rest of the post here.

More Seizure Coma Death Moments

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by Elizabeth

This blog post is brought to you by a 100% Harm Avoidance gal, in the spirit of a life lived the Seizure Coma Death way. I present to you now, purely for your reading pleasure, true stories from this last month:

I.

A fever and a hacking cough recently afflicted my youngest daughter. One night as she’s crying in pain, I wake to give her more Tylenol, to bring down her fever. I leave her room thinking, “Hmmm, she’s worse than the night before, when she slept all night without her fever spiking.” I begin to worry thus: Oh no, it’s probably that new mutant strain of the flu that’s worse than most flus but starts as a regular cold and gets worse and worse and worse until. . . it moves into the lungs and my baby might DIE.

II.

And then, as I crawl back into bed, I notice that my big toe is hurting. This is my OTHER big toe, because the first one is already fighting an infected/ingrown nail. When I realize both toes are hurting, I think, Oh no!!! I have DIABETES!! I never knew a 5-pound weight gain could be enough to propel me into type 2 diabetes. I am going to be stuck the rest of my life having to take meds for this.

So I toss and turn awhile and Jonathan finally notices and asks, “Are you ok?” I answer, “NO! I am not ok! I think I have diabetes. Both my toes hurt. My feet aren’t healing.” He retorts, “The reason feet are a problem for diabetics is because they CAN’T feel their feet, not because they CAN; your feet are fine. Go back to bed.” So I try. Even though my toes are still in pain.

The weather here affects my feet I guess, making them more dry and calloused than usual. So maybe I need to invest in some sort of foot cream.

But probably not Metformin.

Yet.

III.

Later that week, a killer mosquito attacks Jonathan and me. First, it attacks him. We had gone to bed early that night to try to recover from the sleep loss associated with, you know, COUGHING KID. So we are tossing and turning, in and out of sleep, listening to our dear sweet little hacker, when suddenly he jumps out of bed, all flustered, saying a mosquito bit him on the lip. It’s swelling HUGE, and it hurts. I give him the Benadryl cream and we look for, but cannot find, the Perpetrator.

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I cover my entire self with the sheets, except for my face, so I can, you know, BREATHE, and I fall back asleep. Then about an hour later, I wake up with a pain in my lip, and it’s a teeny tiny bit itchy. Fearing the worst, I run to the bathroom, only to discover a bite that is TAKING OVER MY FACE. Numbness and tingling spread all the way down to my chin. My lip simultaneously balloons outward and swells all the way INTO my mouth, where I can feel the bulge on the inside of my lips. I think: And when the swelling reaches my windpipe, I will die.

So I slather on the Benadryl cream and search for that blasted mosquito. When I finally find it, I swipe at it with the electric bug zapper. The zapper buzzes the mosquito no fewer than 5 times (usually 1 or 2 zaps is enough to slay a mosquito). When it falls to the ground, it is STILL WRITHING. Of course, even a mosquito as hardy as that can’t survive my foot: one stomp finishes the job nicely.

It takes all night for the swelling on my lip to go down. The tingling doesn’t fully subside until later the next day.

But my airways are still intact.

For now.

He Unbreaks It

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by Elizabeth

The Twelve Days of Christmas are past; it is Epiphany. Today — the day we commemorate the Wise Men’s visit to Baby Jesus — is our official farewell to the Christmas season. But can I linger on the Christmas story just a little bit longer? Because I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.

I’m amazed by the sheer number of times Heaven enters our world in the events leading up to and surrounding the birth of Christ. First the angel Gabriel, who stands in the very presence of God, appears to Zechariah, foretelling the birth of a son – a prophet — to a barren woman.

Then Gabriel appears to Mary with a message unlike any other, announcing a calling unlike any other: she will give birth to the Son of the Most High. She has been chosen to mother the Messiah, to carry the One whose Kingdom will never end. Of one thing this young Virgin is certain: the God we serve is the God of the Impossible.

And when Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s home and the Holy Spirit fills Elizabeth, causing her to prophesy over Mary, oh, it just takes my breath away. For here in this moment, God trusts not an angel but a fallen human being to deliver confirmation that Mary isn’t crazy, that she isn’t alone, and that the Child within her truly is special.

Joseph is visited in a dream that both confirms the Virgin Birth and ensures that the Babe’s birthplace will be in Bethlehem, just as the Scriptures promise. I’m not one to put too much stock in our night dreams, so I’m thankful Mary’s husband takes heed of his.

And then there were the shepherds, night-shift-workers minding their own business. Non-essential players all – until they hear the host of Heaven, that is. Nudged onto the stage of the Nativity, they travel to the city of David, where their arrival on the stable’s doorstep confirms to Mary and Joseph yet again the specialness of this Child.

Joseph and Mary, good Jewish parents that they are, dedicate their son at the Temple. And God confirms His word once more, this time through a praying woman and a dying man. The identity of God’s Son is revealed to Simeon and Anna, bolstering both the freshly-minted parents and the elderly faithfuls: this is the beauty of the gift of prophecy.

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I’m overwhelmed by the lengths God went to in order to confirm His Word and the coming of His Son. Over and over again, He speaks. Mary certainly had many things to treasure in her heart, to remind herself that she was indeed NOT crazy. But the part about the Christmas story I cherish so very much is what we celebrate today – God’s inclusion of pagans in His redemption story.

These pagans, these Wise Men from the East, were not of the family of Israel. These Magi, these star-gazers, placed their trust in the sky. But God speaks their language: He gives them a sign in their beloved sky. And when their faith leads them to seek and find the Promised Child, they worship Him. God rewards their sacrifices with another sign, this time a dream to send them safely on their way back home. I absolutely love this about God, that He invites ALL people to be part of His story, to be part of His family, to receive His salvation.

Epiphany means “to make manifest.” And today, we rejoice in this Epiphany. We rejoice that God makes Himself known not only to Israelites but also to Gentiles like the Wise Men — to a Gentile like myself. We rejoice that from the very beginning, God wanted communion with every single person He created – and that when He made Himself manifest to Abraham, it was to bless all families on earth. His covenant was not only meant to set Abraham apart, it was meant to draw all people to Him.

So on this day, we honor the heart of the Father, a heart that beats with longing for us.

For all of us.

This world He made, we broke it.

But He unbreaks it.

He unbreaks it, through a tiny Baby.

He unbreaks it, one recaptured soul at a time.

All people may come — praying saints, dirty shepherds, unexpected pagans from afar.

His will is for all to hear His voice, to see His star.

His will is for all to turn toward Him, to journey to Him.

His desire is for the nations.

Glory be to God.