When I was a kid, being still was as easy as "an RC cola and a moon pie," as they say in the South. I was an only child with very limited TV access, so learning to entertain myself was essential. I would watch the clouds roll by on my favorite grassy knoll while having conversations with God. I would read a good book cuddled up with the barn cats in the hay or snuggled high in my favorite tree, watching the leaf shadows caress my pages with the wind's gentlest touch. I caught butterflies and fireflies, picked wildflowers for my mother's bedside table, and gloried in creation's beauty - spiritually walking hand in hand with the Creator. I would sit on my wooden fence overlooking the lake and welcome my good friend Evening with her lightening-bug hugs of cushy twilight. I would watch the snow fall while pretending to do my homework sprawled on the smoky cedar-smelling rug by the crackling fire. I knew full well that a snow day was coming and if my homework was done early it would be an uninterrupted day of snow angels and snowmen, hunting animal tracks through the marshmallow woods, sledding on icy back-country roads, and watching the fire flames dance with hot cocoa in my hands to warm up again. While looking back on the enchantment of childhood can seem more nostalgic than it really was; ask anyone who knew me - I knew how to be still.
But I grew up in one day when I was 14. As the Christmas carols rang through so many hearts, mine was broken with the news my best friend, my mom, had cancer. Thirteen months later, we were opening the cold earth to receive her casket.
Suddenly, I hated still. I hated having any time to remember the memories of her last months of chemo and radiation, her last weeks on a respirator, her last words fighting through the coma drugs to tell me she loved me. I didn't want to have time to think. So, I embraced my new friend, Busyness.
With Busyness, I could do a lot of great activities that would wear me out so that when I was forced to be still in my bed, pure exhaustion-induced sleep would come. It also had the great side effect of making everyone comment on how much I was holding it together, how strong I was. I was numb, so not crying at Mom's funeral and singing a solo in her honor were doable. I liked being perceived as strong. I liked making straight As in school. I loved running and turned to this with animalistic fever - feeling the endorphin rush and a glimpse of what happiness felt like again, even if only for a moment.
Then there were the nights when even though I was exhausted, the mafia trio came for me. They were three brothers: Pain, Depression, and Loneliness. They beat my heart into a bloody pulp, telling me of my failures as a daughter, as a follower of God, as a person. I would retreat from my bed and seek solace on the same grassy hill where I used to watch the clouds and talk winsomely to God. I would bravely try to watch the stars, but I always ended up in a sobbing fetal position, crying so hard I thought I would vomit my insides out - and hoped I would.
People sometimes ask me why I believe in God. I can give them the philosophical answers on morality's origin. I can give them the scientific facts debated by the MDs and PHDs of humanity's beginnings and science's wonders. I can give them the historical evidence of the miracle of the Bible and prophecy. I can give them the love story of Jesus. And, I often do, because the real reason is too experiential for most to accept. The fact is, if you weren't with me, inside my head, seeing what I've seen, you would simply think me out of my mind. I have had many more mind-twisting miracles and experiences with God during our friendship, but the first, simplest, and most earth-shattering for me is how He saved me.
When my mom died, I really wanted to die too. The pain hurt too much. I lost my dad to his own grief and subsequent remarriage and felt completely alone. I thought about killing myself, but I knew I would have to face God someday and explain why I gave up the gift of life He entrusted to me. So, instead I just hoped I could cry myself to death; then it wouldn't really be my fault. That first night, in the inky blackness on my grassy knoll, as sobs exploded through my body and I lost my ability to even breathe, I felt warm strong arms encircle me. It was so real that it caused me to look behind to see who was there. When I realized a physical person wasn't there, I relaxed deep into the embrace - I knew Who it was. The peace and warmth that flooded my heart could not have come from the ragged life that was left in me. Only One greater than me could quiet me in such a way with such a love. Many nights afterward, this was how I met God. I would cry, and He would hold me. Every time, like the troubled stormy seas, I experienced, "Peace, be still."
I still came to God for peace throughout my life, but the coping mechanism of Busyness was there too. Through high school, college, and marriage, God would always meet my restless heart with stillness when I came to Him. I just stopped having time to do it as much as before. Busyness and I were still tight, and I had picked up a new friend, Security, along the way. Security was something I manufactured so I wouldn't have to need anyone else. He brought along a stone heart to replace my broken one. This one didn't feel, and it was a welcome relief to go numb. I learned that if I walled people out, they couldn't hurt me. Security was manifested in martial art classes, shooting practice, athletics to become strong, free climbing at heights that would have killed me had I fallen to show I wasn't afraid, cliff jumping, jogging at 2 a.m. through the streets of my college town daring a predator to just try to take a piece of me, and working three jobs simultaneously in college to prove I could make it in this world - no help required thank you very much!
Beginning married life way below the poverty line, I decided in our single-wide trailer surrounded by unpaid utility bills and an empty food pantry that I would never be in a position to not pay my own way. In a classic dramatic Scarlet O'Hara "never-be-hungry-again" moment, I wanted financial Security and I pursued him with gusto. Soon, people noticed, as I still had Busyness along who was highly valued. I was promoted from a temp job to a territory sales manager in a global blue-chip corporation, selling multibillion dollar brands from two different global-market-leading companies to white coat professionals with the first name of doctor. As my demanding job ate away my life and health, I gave less time to seeking stillness with God, but ironically, more time to His work. In my free time, I sang in the praise band, did outreach projects, fed the homeless, went to group Bible studies, had one-on-one home Bible studies, picked weeds at a church work day, mowed people's lawns for free, volunteered my vacation days to visit sick children twice a month with our therapy dog at All Children's Hospital, put on church drama productions, sat in on church committee meetings, became a disaster-relief volunteer, visited the victims in the aftermath of the Alabama tornadoes with my therapy dog, helped with health clinics and vegetarian food education. I was even training for triathlons and road races in my spare time.
I had everything, Security in a lucrative job, Security in a beautiful house on a golf course in Florida complete with hot tub, fire pit, and rose bush, Security in my health and athletic strength, and Busyness in Christian activities and employment to make sure I went to bed good and tired before the brothers could keep me up with beatings. The fact that there was no time for my relationship with God or my husband didn't seem to concern me outwardly, but inside I was dying slowly. The mafia gang was back, and happiness seemed as elusive as the freedom to be still.
I was close to breaking, and the final few straws that fell were enough to finish the job. Some I can talk about, the most painful I can't, but suffice it to say multiple outside forces hit my inward storm and my facade of having it all together crumbled. I was standing alone in my perfect life with my perfect things in my perfect house, and I was that little lonely girl on the grassy knoll all over again. But, this time I had strayed so far from God in my heart, I didn't feel His arms anymore because I was too ashamed to run to Him. I broke down and gave up in an exhausted mess. Depression closed in around me, blocking out all sunshine. I clung to a denial of how messed up I really was until I was past the point of seeing hope. The rivers had turned to stormy seas, and those seas now burst through my lying inner voice that I really was keeping it all together to end in a tsunami of complete devastation.
So, I finally gave up. God had my attention. I admitted my attempt at this life was a horrible failure and asked if He had any ideas. He did. "Go and sell all that you have, and follow Me."
"Um God, do You know how long I've worked to get where I am? How much I've sacrificed? How blessed I am to have this career? How can you ask me to do something so drastic? You are asking me to leave Security behind!"
The answer was the same, strong as granite.
So, the whirlwind began all over again. First, I fasted for days, trying to make sure I had heard Him correctly. I even asked for a very specific "Gideon's fleece" set of circumstances, which He kindly provided as my faith was much too weak to simply trust His first answer. The battle between really giving everything up and holding onto the only life I knew raged within me. Then, the cascade of tasks began: the financial whirlwind of a short sale, as our house had lost half its value in the seven years we had owned it; leaving the security of my job and saying goodbye to the friends I had made; the huge task of selling all our possessions except for a line of boxes we sent to my kind mother-in-law at the end because I just couldn't go through any more stuff; canceling all our financial commitments and paying penalties where we couldn't break clean; figuring out logistics of bringing our dogs into the foreign country where my husband was attending school, which had caused us to be separated for the past year. I often retreated from these terrifying tasks into depression, procrastinating the final acts of giving the life I enjoyed a love-hate relationship with up. But in the end, God worked everything out despite my unwillingness. He even gave me angels in my friends who came at the last minute to help me get packed and provided for my transportation needs after I sold our car.
So, like Jonah covered in whale vomit, I went to my assignment. My face hard as steel, ready to jump into the next big thing God had planned for me. Busyness bought a ticket too, and sat with me on the plane to a tiny tropical island I had hardly even heard of, let alone visited. I said goodbye to Security at the airport, and left him in Florida.
Just as a dazed passenger staggers out of the debris of a plane crash, still trying to gain footing after suddenly ending the experience of traveling the speed of sound, I joined my husband, from whom I had been separated a year physically and many more emotionally, in a new country. Busyness immediately pulled me into triathlon training, the new social scene, and ministry work. I started filling up my days with creating new relationships and training for my next goal: a full Ironman race.
God kept asking me to be still, but I didn't want to look into the still water and see who I had become. I was honestly afraid of what I would find. There was a lot of healing I needed to do, but I didn't want to face it yet. God was patient as I scurried around exploring my new surroundings, cliff jumping, participating in church dramas, learning my new work at the radio station, playing with sea turtles, snorkeling in the crystal waters, running up volcanic jungle mountains with my triathlon team, biking on busy pot-holed streets at night in darkness where He needed to intervene more than once to save my life, sunset endurance open-water swims with my fellow athletes, visiting orphanages, helping pregnant teens, Bible studies, preaching to student groups, putting on raw food health seminars, praying with students during exam week, playing volleyball, meeting friends for beach runs, cleaning up mission homes, going to big tent crusades, passing out home-made cookies during Christmas to children in poor neighborhoods, hosting dinners and parties for friends...
"I don't want to surrender Busyness. I don't want to be still, not yet..."
However, the slow island pace has finally forced me to allow all the junk to come up, as much as I've tried to fight it off. After leaving Security, my stone heart, which had already started to crack much earlier after claiming the Ezekiel 36:26 promise, finally was replaced with the heart of flesh. I have decided it was far better to feel pain than nothing. I also have grown tired of Busyness the more time I spend in God's sweet presence. While I can't promise that he will leave me entirely, he no longer is the crutch I use to avoid the silence. Within the stillness, I hear God's voice more clearly.
When I was ready, God helped me cut some additional areas out of my life where I wasn't fully surrendered to His will, turning my back on them hopefully forever. I started to long for the still moments of my childhood. My husband and I faced challenges in rebuilding our marriage after years of neglect. We faced many outside pressures as well. We went through crashes and subsequent miracles to get us out of our worst-case-scenario nightmares. I hope shortly to touch on what God has done here, but the final pieces still remain just out of reach to conclude that part of our testimony.
Through it all, I have learned a valuable lesson. While Busyness and Security certainly aren't to be demonized as they have their place, when they become the gods we worship, happiness and freedom will never be found. If you think about it, most horrible things in the world are done by unhappy, trapped people. It shapes the world because it shapes each person. You are the product of your deepest heart-stopping experiences. Those that shape you most are comprised of the actions of people who either hurt you deeply or the actions of the people who love you unconditionally. It just stands to reason that if I can allow the change of one unhappy heart - my own - into a heart full of God's love, I stand the chance of shaping other lives for good and being a still pool reflecting God's image to the world. The other side of the coin is that if I'm unhappy in life, I will leave a wake of pain and tsunami destruction stamped upon the hearts of others who are unlucky enough to be swept away in my path. While God was very appreciative of all my good works I was doing for Him, He really wanted me to stop and just focus on two simple, yet much more difficult, tasks: 1) healing my heart through a passionate pursuit of Him, and 2) healing my marriage through a passion pursuit of my husband. Both required a lot more pride swallowing than I felt ready for, but God has been faithful to make up the difference where I fall short.
One of my favorite freedom stories from scripture is in Exodus, when the Israelite people were freed from the oppression of Egypt by God's miracles. Just when they thought all the fighting and pain was over, they were trapped between the Red Sea and an approaching murderous horde of Egyptian warriors. I'm sure the people were running around fanatically, uselessly, in a state of pure panic. They felt trapped with no way out. Though I tried desperately to avoid it with Security, I found myself just as trapped. Moses' response sounds laughable under the circumstances, "Don't be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord."
Stand still? When you have maybe minutes to live before a sword cuts through your throat? Stand still? When you are between a chariot army and the Red Sea? Stand still? Are you crazy? It goes against everything in our nature. But, we finally stop the pointless panic and do it.
Then God shows up. He creates a fiery pillar between the Egyptians and His people to stop the armies in their tracks and He parts the waters of the Red Sea. He opens the way before them to freedom and protects them from behind with fire, and all He asks is that we stop being afraid and just stand still. Just stop... and trust.
So, today I'm celebrating a different type of freedom - freedom from the tsunami of Security, Busyness, Depression, Loneliness, and Pain, and the freedom to "Be still, and know that I am God." You see, not only does a still pool reflect my own image so I'm forced to introspective inward study, and not only does it reflect God's image as a witness to others, it also allows Him to move in His timing.
Try casting a stone into a moving river. The ripples are immediately consumed among the current. While a moving river has its place and certainly gets much accomplished, it's hard to tell who is doing the accomplishing - me or God. But, if my heart is a still pool before Him, He can cast a stone into the water, and the ripples reach every boundary of my soul. There is no doubt as to the Author of those waves. Even the smallest stone, the smallest whisper of His breath upon the waters, can stir within me actions that will impact the world in ways I can't even begin to imagine. He can't completely work His full purpose in my life, until I am still in my heart.
Here's a video of a play my husband and I did with friends for a benefit concert when I first got here. This play represents my life in so many ways - rushing after the wind until I come to the point where life is something to escape, not celebrate, and then realize that the best place in the world is in the arms of Jesus, right where I used to be ... Maybe it's your story too? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hHXzfxEpaU
Enjoy the fireworks all my dear American friends and family. Tonight, I plan to celebrate my new-found freedom in a more personal way. I will always be grateful for the freedom brought to me by the sacrifice of many brave servicemen and women. I will always honor that sacrifice. More personally, the wounded involved in my past rebellion unfortunately don't just include my own broken heart, but others I have broken in my own unhappiness. I will have to leave their healing to God, as I have done all I can to seek forgiveness for my part of the pain. The ghosts of the past and the soul-crushing guilt for things I have long ago confessed stir up the rivers again, but I won't go back there anymore. I'm healing now. For me, as great as the American freedom story is, my own story resonates more intimately within my now softened heart, as far deeper freedom has been found in the stillness of God's presence. I will find it tonight among the singing melody of the tree frogs under the palm-framed full moon in the quiet of this night of celebration. When the storms come, I now know what to do. I cry to my Father for help from my tiny boat, and He smiles lovingly and tells the waves one more time in a whisper more powerful than any warrior's battle cry, "Peace, be still."
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