Robin's Nest

For those of you who know my husband, I think you’ll agree he’s a positive guy.  But, when hit with a challenge, Jeff’s mind often jumps to worst-case scenario. It exaggerates reality. A few drops of coffee are “all over the floor,” a simmering pot is “boiling away.” That’s how his mind works. It jumps to action. Perhaps, it’s his military training, or niggling childhood fears, or simply a flair for the dramatic. Probably all three. Whatever catapults his hyper thinking, I’m thankful. It has saved my sanity on countless occasions. Like when I left my baby on a train … but that’s a drama for another day.

We know  fear is automatic. A wired-in, needed response to danger. Research shows  when faced with a threat, real or perceived, our brains and nervous systems kick in with at least one of these responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fold. Jeff tells me there’s a fifth: Freak-out. It’s that worst-case panic button.

While Jeff goes into fight/freak-out mode when feeling threatened, my initial response is to freeze, fold, and retreat to safety. And, yes, I freak-out. Internally.

This reminds me of the day I stood on a riverbank with my tennis shoes squished into Tennessee mud. Rain drizzled onto my ponytail as I glanced from Jeff, to the raft, to the rapids. Then to the river guide, back to the raft. There were no seats on that red devil and it looked really bouncy. Like bouncy-house bouncy. The river’s white caps reached and grabbed and swirled and my mind swam.

Growing up near the Mississippi, I learned about a river’s undertow. It hides, even under peaceful waters. Stay shallow, stay safe. So, I understood when our guide, Birdman ~ yes, that’s his real name ~ warned me, “If you fall out, don’t let your feet touch bottom, it will grab you and it will hold you under.”

Thanks a lot, scary mountain man.

Why did I ask for adventure? I was tired of small living—of needing control and fearing what I couldn’t see. But my bring-it-on attitude was drowning in irrational thought.

Oh. Heck. No. I will die. Stay with sneakers stuck in mud. I like mud. Wait right here. Make mud pies. Who likes sitting in wet denim shorts with river water soaked through their panties? Ew. Gross. Chafing. Not I. Yep, safe, comfy, dry-ish. I’ll stay on the riverbank, thank you very much.

Safe sounded good. Chilling in the rain was cool with me. Stay shallow. Stay safe.

Fear’s undercurrent grabs us and drags us in the opposite direction of the life Jesus promises. “The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.”

That day I was stuck in the Tennessee mud, I had a choice. Live in a box or live in abundance. Fear or freedom. Let me tell you, I was shaking like a Chihuahua surrounded by toddlers punching Mylar balloons.

And then there was Jeff.  My fighter, with his mischievous grin, volunteering to sit up front. Oh God, no.

Would I stay frozen and fold? Would I punch fear in the face and not only get in the raft, but sit up front?

We’ll see next time. Until then, my friend, choose abundance. Pay attention to how you react to fear. Hold on to God and to rational thought. Perhaps it’s time to try something new.

Joy and courage for your journey.

 

Thank you,  Pixabay.com, for  the photo:)

 

I’m sorry. I gotta keep it real. Again. There’s a season in a woman’s life that may breeze in and out on a daisy-laden path. But today, it’s slamming my mind and body with the chaos of a hurricane and the slow inside-out burn of a volcano.

My dear male readers, if you’re still here: Run away or proceed on tiptoes. I know. Just when you think you understand women, we change again. It’s like trying to stabilize tectonic plates in a tug-of-war with the sun, moon, gravity, and lava from the earth’s core.

“The Change.” That’s what my mom’s generation called it. What a weak word for this bizarre paradigm shift of body, mind, and spirit. “The Chaos” is more like it.

Here I am, in this holistic onslaught, hoping to tap out rational thought onto my computer screen as my mind bounces on a toddler-filled trampoline. Stretched tight, pummeled and pinging, clashing and screaming.

And I really need my brain right now. After signing my pending book contract, I’ll get stretched even further. Already am, just thinking about the writing and marketing which includes all sorts of scary stuff. Like speaking in public. With my voice. In front of people. About my book, which is halfway done but has turned sideways in the birth canal. Yes. Ouch.

Drastic change, even a happy one – a move, a new job, or publishing a book– is scary and disorienting. And the unwanted ones are even more difficult.

They happen and we have little or no control. We can only control our response to the fear and chaos. At first, we might recoil and resist then we rock and roll.

There’s something to learn in this gut-wrenching process. From loss to new normal. Though the pain and struggle are very real, we give ourselves permission to feel and heal. To let go of how our life used to be and accept where it is now.

Here’s where we ask God for courage to see and to change what we can: Us. We ask for strength to accept what we can’t change: Everything and everyone else. We breathe deep and ask for new vision and new purpose. We use change to make us better, not bitter.

It’s not easy. I know. But, remember God’s promise:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;  and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2

God knows your name, he knows your voice, and he knows your struggle. Talk to him and then to a friend or a counselor. We aren’t meant to do this alone. That’s why I see my counselor every Tuesday. She’s helping me unravel this hot mess and giving me courage to face my fears.

We really can be whole and free in the middle of chaos, my friend.

Strength, peace, and love to you.

 

 

Photo by Robin Melvin

 

It was my childhood faith pulling me into that little Arkansas church. The hand clapping was weird, but a welcome weird to a spiritually starved, mentally battered twenty-six year old.

The people there were comfortable with God and weren’t afraid to talk about him. The Father. The Son. The Holy Spirit. They not only knew him on a first name basis, they aimed to be like Jesus.

That was my first glimpse of down-to-earth holiness. It dawned bright in the light on those sweet southern faces. It grew skin. It was touchable and huggable. And I wanted it. I hungered for peace to get over my past, strength to get through my present, and hope to get moving on a path with purpose. That’s when “Just as I Am” wooed me from the pew and I made the best decision of my life. To ask Jesus to save me and guide my life.

By spending time with other seekers, the Sunday messages, and my own Bible reading, holiness—a weird-yet-wonderful concept—became more real to me. It floated down to earth, desirable and doable. Why wouldn’t it be? God calls us to it.

“As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance. But just as He who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do.” Peter, a once reckless and fearful disciple, found confidence in his Christ identity. He challenges us to strip ourselves of sin, our moral impurity. He quotes Moses who quotes God, “Be holy, because I am holy.”

Whoa. Wait a minute. So, I have to be perfect? No and yes. Not perfect in the sense we never make a mistake. It’s a heart perfection. God sees a heart that is set, devoted to knowing better and being better.

As a brand new believer, I soaked in God’s Word. In Galatians 5, I read that the Holy Spirit produces fruit in our lives: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!”

There were options ~ Holy options ~ to living a defeated life. I decided to go after each one and become a lifelong learner.

Ephesians 4:21-24 challenges us, “Since you have heard about Jesus and have learned the truth that comes from Him, throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception. Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy.”

Our call is clear. Do you want to live out this calling and become a lifelong student, a disciple of Jesus? Hebrews 1:3 tells us he is the “exact representation of [God’s] being.” To know Jesus is to know the Father. To know Jesus is to know the Holy Spirit.

We don’t have to let sin and shame and unhealthy self-talk dictate our thoughts and attitudes. Our new nature defines us. The more we seek right living, the more peace, joy, and freedom we find in our true selves.

Holiness, once a mystery to me, is the gift that grows us into our God-given identity.

Are you ready to join me and wholly surrender to a holy pursuit? It’s a daily, conscious commitment. We  die to truly live. Die? That sounds a tad dramatic. Perhaps, we’ll dig into that next time.

Grace and courage for your  journey, my friend.

 

Photo from www.Pixabay.com

 

 

As a child, holiness was inconceivable to me. Hovering somewhere beyond the clouds, it was reserved for God, priests, and popes ~ not mere peasants like me. Webster defines it as “a title of address used for high ecclesiastical dignitaries and especially for the pope.” So, I sang to a distant being. An obscure word sung to an obscure god. “Holy, Holy, Holy … only Thou art holy…”

Outside church, the word was misused and mumbled. “Well isn’t she holier-than-thou.” I heard other good words—even Jesus’ name—twisted ugly, muttered, or yelled. My sister cautioned me about that. I believed her because she seemed somehow connected to him.

I attended classes, performed sacraments, checked the boxes, and recited a prayer every night before bed just in case a sin snuck in that I didn’t know about. I wasn’t taking any chances. I believed a higher being existed, but feared it was watching and waiting to zap me with a lightning bolt. Mine was a faraway faith for sure, but it was all I knew. And I’m thankful for it.

But, holiness remained a superior secret—zipped up tight in an other-world feel, remote and unattainable. So, I figured if God was holy, he was distant and unreachable too. Now, I know that’s not true.

In Ezekial, we read  “… I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.” Jesus’ Spirit replaces our spirit. Our heart is now God-centered, not self-centered.

We still struggle. We still have limitations. We’re not perfect ~ whatever that is.

But, we have a perfect heart. A heart that’s teachable and committed to new life in Christ. It will lead us to a full, satisfying life. Not one without pain but one that reflects love and peace and joy in spite of it.

For this inside-out cleansing, “The Holy Spirit cannot be accepted as a guest in merely one room of the house—He invades all of it. And once I decide … my heredity of sin should [die], the Holy Spirit invades me. He takes charge of everything. My part is to walk in the light and to obey all that He reveals to me.”*

I’m in year twenty-seven of this lifelong journey. It’s been a bumpy-but-beautiful-to-God process. Yes, in this messy world ~ with our messy lives ~ a holy pursuit is possible.  

Next time, we’ll go back to that little Arkansas church where I saw my first glimpse of down-to-earth holiness. It took me many years and countless tears to get there. But, God’s not distant. And he’s totally reachable.

May you find peace on your pursuit, my friends.

 

*Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

Photo found at Pixabay.com