contentment (6) security

What makes you feel safe? What makes you feel secure? If you’re not sure, ask yourself another question: What do you most fear losing?

When I found out my husband has cancer, it felt like my whole world was crumbling. When you’re married, you place a lot of your sense of safety in the person you love. And it’s not just our relationship that I fear losing. If the worst should happen, how will I provide for and protect our family? How will I raise our children? How will they cope without a father? These are real questions, but when they fill me with fear, I know I’m looking to other things besides God to keep us safe.

It’s no different if you’re single. Maybe you long for a relationship. Or maybe it’s a high-achieving career that attracts you. Or owning your own home. A young woman once told me she hopes Jesus doesn’t come back until she has a career and is married with children. I get that, because I remember feeling that way myself when I was young. But she longed for it so much that she chose to go out with a non-Christian.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting a relationship, a job, or a home – they are good gifts from God. But what happens when they become the source of our security? What if God never gives us these things, or if he takes them away? Will we still hold on to him then? Will we seek them in places or people he doesn’t want us to?

What makes you feel safe? ...

You can read the rest at TGC Australia

what I'm reading: anxiety and the Burden Bearer

Prayer is God's great antidote to worry (Phil 4:6). But so often, we turn from prayer to something else. Ed Welch could be describing me here:

Too often I will begin to pray, then gravitate to the things that worry me, start trying to solve them, realize I am not really praying, and then decide to attend to the urgent matters and pray later.

Does that sound familiar? There are lots of ways I turn prayer into a personal fix-it session:

• I spend the time thinking through my worries, trying to find solutions
• I turn prayer into self-talk about my fears
• I try and get myself into the right frame of mind before I pray
• I stop praying so I can get on with my to-do list
• I think God won't listen to me unless I get things right first.

But that's not really prayer. Prayer means we give up control, stop trying to fix things, and hand them over to God instead. And this doesn't come naturally, especially to us worriers, who are used to using our minds to imagine and head off every possible catastrophe:

Prayer is harder than we think ... To actually stop and pray is contrary to our sense that we must do something - and do it quickly ... Prayer is counterintuitive. It is the opposite of what we would normally think or do.

God doesn't just tell us to stop worrying and get on with praying. He reminds us that he is the great Burden Bearer:

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you" (1 Peter 5:6-7) ...

We are carrying burdens we were never intended to carry alone ...

In an act that could never have been conceived by a human being, the King comes and beseeches us to lay our burden on him. ... He invites us to cast our burdens on him as we would cast burdens on an ox. ...

In one of the amazing paradoxes of the kingdom, when God takes our burdens and takes the position of a servant, he reveals our inability and his sufficiency. As such, he is exalted as the God of the mighty hand.

Prayer isn't about me trying to get my attitudes right, or talking myself out of my worries. It isn't, ultimately, about me at all: it's about God, my Father, the great Burden Bearer.

Prayer is coming to God, just as I am, and talking to him about where I'm at, right now. It's saying to God, "I'm worried, and I can't fix this. Please help me!". It's refusing to try and solve my fears, and giving them to him to carry instead.

I've got a long way to go, but I'm learning to do this. Will you join me?

God's answer to anxiety from Psalm 131

Simone Richardson on Psalm 131:

A little child rests against his mother and doesn’t bother himself with big and difficult things. He doesn’t worry about how the mortgage is to be repaid. He isn’t thinking about where the next meal’s coming from. He’s not worried about the war in the middle east - or even the war next door. He doesn’t have to. Mum’s got those things sorted. He’s with her and that’s enough. The weaned child knows his place in the world. Nestled in to mum! Mum will sort things out. ...

We can be like kids who grew up in neglectful or abusive homes, who weren’t looked after properly. Kids like that, even after they’re put in safe and caring homes, they still find trust really hard. They can know in their heads that they’ll be looked after, but underneath there’s still this instinct to depend only on themselves. So they’ll steal food from the pantry and hide it under their beds. Just in case.

For many of us here who are Christians, that’s what we can be like. We know in our heads that Jesus reliable. That we can trust him. And we’ve decided to. But our hearts haven’t caught up yet, so we don’t rest against him. We nurture our worries - like a kid stashes food under her bed - imagining that we can stay in control of things that way.

One great theologian said that Psalm 131 takes the shortest time to read but the longest time to learn ...

You can read the rest here.

psalm for the downcast (3)

Have you ever been burdened with sorrow or fear? You move through the world in a fog, and others' voices come to you as if from a distance. You wonder how they can be so carefree.

Sometimes, there's no lonelier place than a crowd.

I escape to solitude, grass below and a gum tree above. Twigs and bits of bark poke my legs. I stare at trees drawing lines on a slope striped with sun and shadow, a sky so lovely it hurts. I scribble words in my journal: "Oh, Father ...". It's good to write, but I want more.

How do you pray when your heart is heavy? Words seem inadequate. Hurt edges into bitterness. Perhaps the only word you can think of is "Help!" - and there are few better prayers. But you want more. You need, not your own words, but God's word. It has never felt so necessary.

I pull the Bible from my bag and open it to the psalms. I turn, not quite at random, to psalm 63 (someone once said it was helpful in times like this). I start reading a little earlier - psalm 61 will do. It astonishes me, as always, how the words give perfect shape to my need. I write them in my journal:

Hear my cry, O God.

From the ends of the earth I call to you.
I call as my heart grows faint.
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

How long will you assault me?
Would all of you throw me down—
this leaning wall, this tottering fence?

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone.
He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.

On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
I sing in the shadow of your wings.

One thing God has spoken,
two things I have heard:
that you, O God, are strong,
and that you, O lord, are loving.

Two dot points form themselves in my mind:

• he is strong
• he is loving.

Those two things are all I need to know.



If you enjoyed this post, you might also enjoy:

• psalm for the downcast (1)
• psalm for the downcast (2)
• a cry of hopelessness
• praying your tears.

(Excerpts are from Psalms 61-63.)

what I'm reading: warning for worriers

Anxiety has been a pretty big issue for me this year.

A few years ago, I read Elyse Fitzpatrick's Overcoming fear, worry and anxiety. I highly recommend it!

This time around I'm reading Ed Welch's Running Scared (it's also excellent). I was struck by this warning to worriers:

When you see worry - and you will see it - be careful.

Worry is focused inward.

It prefers self-protection over trust.

It can hear many encouraging words - even God's words - and stay unmoved.

It can be life-dominating.

It reveals the things that are valuable to you.

It can reveal that you love something more than Jesus. It crowds Jesus out of your life.

And here is some encouragement for worriers:

Your task is not to transform into a superficial, sunny optimist. It is to grow to be an optimist by faith. ...

When we belong to Christ, it will end with joy.

As for me, I want to watch and endure, not worry. I want to be like the night watchmen who are waiting to see first light (Psalm 130).

God is the God of suspense, but it is a suspense that teaches us peace.

He is the God of surprises, but the surprises are always better than we could have dreamed.

I can't put him in a box and assume that he should act according to my time schedule and according to my less sophisticated version of what is good.

I need the mind of Christ. I can do with nothing less.

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame. (Heb 12:2)

Amen!


Quotes are from Ed Welch Running Scared 97, 93.

what I'm reading: yes, I can trust him

Maybe you struggle with worry. Maybe you can see it's not getting you anywhere. Maybe you really want to trust God.

Maybe you pray, "Okay, I give up. I can't do it any more. I entrust the future to you."

Maybe you do this unwillingly, with gritted teeth.

You know he's sovereign. You know he's good. You know you're supposed to trust him. And so, knowing but not yet feeling, you give the future into his hands.

Then you read something. Or hear something. Or someone says

something. And suddenly it's okay.

Because now you know that the God who is in control actually cares for you. You knew it before, but now you really know it.

(Of course, you'll have to learn it again. Feelings come and go, but the truth stays the same.)

Here are some words that spoke to me recently. The bits in bold are the bits that jumped straight into my heart.

The King is extravagant. That is the good news for fearful people. Most fears link to our doubts about God's generosity and attention to detail. In response, God freely gives what is costly. And, as the true expert craftsman, he attends to every last detail. (Running Scared 108-9)

The reason we are called to lay up our treasures in heaven [rather than worrying about and pursuing treasures on earth] is because we are his treasures. When you are confident that you are the Father's treasured possession, you are also confident that his loving care will continue forever. (134)

God has not abandoned us any more than he abandoned Job. He never abandons anyone on whom he has set his love; nor does Christ, the good shepherd, ever lost track of his sheep. It is as false as it is irreverent to accuse God of forgetting, or overlooking, or losing interest in, the state and needs of his own people. If you have been resigning yourself to the thought that God has left you high and dry, seem grace to be ashamed of yourself. Such unbelieving pessimism deeply dishonours our great God and Saviour. (Knowing God 98)

God’s gifts in suffering (5) Suffering shows us what we truly fear to lose

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6-7)

I’ve been listening to my fears. I’ve been imagining dire possibilities. Every medical article, every story of hardship, every description of suffering, seems a pointer to our future, a list of what-might-be. There are times when I lie face down on the carpet, sick to the gut, held down by a blank, black dread. I knew that I would cry, but fear? It seems a strange accompaniment to sorrow.

I don’t feel safe anymore. I think it works like this: in suffering, one of the things you most feared has come to you. And if it has, there’s no longer any guarantee that such-and-such won’t happen. That so-and-so won’t be taken away. Life has been shaken to its roots, your comfortable expectations scattered like fallen fruit.

There’s a moment I remember clearly. I’m standing at the end of the hallway, holding my baby son, cocooned in wraps and ready for bed. I gaze at his face, soft and crumpled with newness, and suddenly all that he might become, all the glowing possibilities, flash before my eyes. There is a world of potential futures in this tiny bundle.

Chronic illness has stolen so much from us, things most parents take for granted, school days and childhood play and time with friends. It has the potential to take away so much more. Once I lived with the comfortable illusion that my decisions and carefully protected goodness could control the outcome. Now I know how vulnerable we are, how easily the things we hold can be taken away, and I am afraid.

Look closely at your fears, and you’ll see the mirror-image of your idols, what you count as happiness, what you hold most tightly. The things we think we can’t live without: security, success, control, peace, usefulness, happiness. The places we look for them: family, money, health, career, friendship, children, marriage. Suffering threatens and thus reveals the things we trust in. It loosens our grip and invites us to cling to God instead.

My son is now twelve years old. I’m standing on a bridge alone, and hoping to stay that way. People pass, but I keep my back to them, hiding my face. I lean on the rail and my tears drop into the river. They travel downstream with the twigs and the bubbles and the little eddies around the stones. Once again, my dreams for my son’s future flash before my eyes, but this time I take each one, let it fall, and watch it float away until it’s lost to view around the bend.

It feels hard but good, this giving up, this letting go. My dreams belong where all dreams belong, in the hands of God. My fears belong there too (1 Pet 5:6-7). My future – our family’s future – is in his hands. The things I think God owes me were never mine to begin with. The things I thought I could hold on to were never under my control.

I’d like some guarantees: this much, and no more. Instead, what I have is this: the assurance that a sovereign God has ordained every one of our days, that nothing else counts compared to knowing him, that what matters is not our comfort, but his glory. It’s not a convenient knowledge. It’s not easily come by. But I choose to believe that it’s enough.

And as I choose to believe, here in the dark, he opens his heart to me. The one who gave up his Son for us is tender and generous in his love, not capricious or cruel. He rejoices over his people with singing (Zeph 3:17). Our names are written on his hands (Isa 49:16). He shelters us under his wings (Ps 91:4). We are never out of his thoughts.1 I begin to know – I’m just at the beginning of knowing – that, whatever happens, we are safe here with him.


1. A few books bring this home to me: JI Packer’s Knowing God, particularly this quote; Cs Lewis’ “He’s not safe, but he’s good”, from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; and Ed Welch’s reminder of “God’s generosity and attention to detail” in Running Scared (p. 109). ↩

what I'm listening to: nothing can harm me

Last night I listened to an encouraging sermon about why we don't need to fear so-called random events.

Our pastor told us this story:

John Chrysostom was a church father in the fourth century known for his preaching.

When he was a young Christian he was brought before the emperor, who told him that if he didn't give up being a Christian he would be exiled from the country.

Chysostom replied, "You cannot banish me because the whole world belongs to my father."

Then the emperor said, "I will take away your property."

"You cannot", replied Chysostom, "because my treasures are in heaven."

So the emperor warned him that he would place him in solitary confinement.

Chrysostom responded, "You cannot, because I have a friend who is closer than a brother, I have Jesus Christ forever."

Finally the emperor threatened him, "We will execute you."

To which Chrysostum said, "You cannot, because my life is hidden with God.

There is nothing you can do to harm me!"

It was a wonderful reminder that nothing can ever really harm us, because nothing - not even death - can separate us from the love of Christ (Romans 8:28-29).


You can find John's ongoing sermon series here.

what I'm listening to: how not to win the anxiety Olympics

If you, like me, could win the anxiety Olympics, you'll love this quote.

It's from a talk our pastor, John Diacos, gave a couple of weeks ago, from his series Freedom from fear.

I love the way he defines "anxiety" and distinguishes it from "fear".

Here's a nourishing, encouraging, very readable chunk from his talk, which is online here.

We are not in control.

Our fear betrays us. It tells us we are not in control. We are finite, and the world around us is unpredictable. We are not self-reliant. We are not capable of tackling the universe alone. We can't stop undesirable events from occurring.

Not wanting to be afraid or out of control, we look for solutions.

Most of us start by simply trying harder. We like to think of ourselves as capable of handling any and every eventuality, if only we pursue the right strategy or simply try harder. And so we attempt to consider every eventuality, take the necessary precautions, mentally rehearse the details, so we’ll be ready when the time comes.

At its best, we call this "forward planning". Otherwise, we call it "anxiety" or "worry". For anxiety is when we try to anticipate the future. Anxiety is us trying harder to be ready for our fears, and not being sure that we can.

Some of us worry a lot - personally I could represent Australia at the anxiety Olympics! - and others not so much; but all of us worry.

Hear what our anxiety says. It reflects our suspicion that we can overcome anything, meet any challenge, if only we try harder. Maybe if we ponder long enough, anticipate and plan, prepare more, then maybe we will be able to master any threat. Anxiety holds out the hope that we can regain control.

This is why those of us who worry hold onto anxiety so stubbornly. This is why anxiety can be so resistant to correction by reason or facts.

We will do anything to control our fear. We so desperately want to deny our human limitations, that instead of admitting that the world is beyond our control, we give ourselves over to being obsessed with anxiety.

And anxiety can become paralysing, because we’re thinking so far ahead, anticipating every possible problem, that we’re afraid to act at all.

But the fundamental problem with our anxiety is that the world is too big for us. We cannot control everything no matter how hard we try. 

Anticipating and preparing for the future is prudent, but so is recognising when you can't control your circumstances, that none of us can control what happens next, and that we need help.

So at some point we reach out to someone else - someone who can help us deal with our fears, overcome our obstacles. Some of us, stubbornly independent, put that off as long as possible. Others of us are quicker to admit we are not self-sufficient.

It's extraordinary how much it helps simply to share your worries with another, even if all they do is listen and sympathise. It soothes our fears simply to know that we’re not alone.

But the best solution of all is someone who can deal with our anxieties by giving us real help that makes things okay. Someone who can take on the source of our fear and deal effectively with it so we don’t need to worry any more.

Other people can help us, but other people are just like us: they are limited in what they can do. Sometimes they’re simply unreliable: they have their own things going on, they let us down. Sometimes the problem is outside their power: no one can prevent you from being rejected or hurt by other people. Doctors can’t cure every disease or stop death.

On our own we are finite, limited, not in control. If we’re going to be able to successfully deal with fear and anxiety, we need someone who can really help, who is actually in control.

The God who is on control of all things can be relied upon. He wants to relieve us of our anxieties: "Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). He invites us to bring all of our fears, all of our worries, to him in prayer (Phil 4:4-7).

The first step in dealing with our fear is to admit we need help - and what a wonderful relief to be able to acknowledge the truth! - that, yes, I am finite. I am rightly fearful of the world around me, because I am not in control. I need the help of the God who is in control.

This is the essence of prayer. It's why we can find it difficult to pray, because prayer is an admission that we are not self-sufficient or in control. Prayer is seeking God’s help because he is in control.

And the great news is that God is not bothered by our requests. God doesn’t reluctantly help us (Luke 18:1-8). God welcomes our prayers. He loves to help his people. He wants us to give all our fears to him, so that we no longer have to worry about them, for he will take care of them.

And this means that we are no longer alone.

One of the features of anxiety is that it is inward-looking and isolating. We worry and turn over issues repeatedly in our mind searching for a solution because we assume that we have to solve the problem ourselves.

Being able to approach God in prayer means that we are not alone. God is with us. God is for his people, and not just to sympathise. God promises to help us, to relieve our anxieties and fears.

Being able to approach God in prayer is where the solution to fear and anxiety starts.

God will one day rescue us from all that we fear. In the meantime, he reorients our perspective. He realigns our values so we see what is important and what isn’t. He shows us that sometimes what we fear is actually trivial, and what we value and love is unimportant. 

The more we trust God, the more we are liberated from the fear that controls us. This won’t be instantaneous. It will take time to learn to trust in someone other than yourself; to change your priorities and what you value.

God enables us to face our fears and worries by showing they are really nothing when we are God’s beloved people.

He changes us so that we value and love what is truly valuable: the eternal things that only God can give us, and that we can never lose.

what I'm reading: when worry comes from a need to control from King's Cross

I came across this quote while reading Tim Keller's King's Cross the other day, and found it profoundly helpful. It reminded me that my worry - including my worry about those dear to me - is so often rooted in a need to control:

At some level, your normal assumptions, your pride and your egotistical way of thinking, are blinding you to the truth.

One prime example of this is worry. Naturally, if you love people, you're going to worry about them.

But do you know where constant worry comes from? It's rooted in an arrogance that assumes, I know the way my life has to go, and God's not getting it right.

Real humility means to relax.

One of the hardest things for me is trusting God about things that I have absolutely no control over. Usually, when I worry, the first thing I do is try to fix things. But there are some things you just can't fix.

My son's ongoing illness is one thing I can't fix. God has ripped the reins out of my hands. Yes, I can take my son to (lots and lots of) doctors; I can structure his days and care for his needs; I can talk to his teachers about how to care for him - but nothing I do can make him better.

Sometimes it feels like God has been whispering - no, shouting! (I'm a little hard of hearing) - in my ears, over and over, for years now, as I've loved and raised my children: "You aren't the one in control - I AM!"

I don't find this easy to hear. I'm stubborn. I like to be in control. I worry, I struggle, I fight. But then I give up and give my son up to God. I don't do this by choice. God has left me with no other choice.

I guess God, in his severe mercy, sometimes lets these things into our lives to remind us that, ultimately, we really have very little control at all. All we can do is give up our striving and pray and trust him. And that is HARD.

But if God is all that we believe he is - if he is all that we can see he is in Jesus - if he is love, and power, and compassion, and wisdom, and sovereignty, and grace - then we can give up our striving, our worry, and rest in him, knowing that he wants what is best, both for us and for those we love.

Quote is from Tim Keller King's Cross 147.

the joy of service (2)

In a recent post, The joy of service, I wrote about the need to serve practically when all you want to do is teach. Karen asked a great question: “Does it work the other way, Jean–when you’re good at (and often prefer) to stuff envelopes, stack chairs and wash dishes, but the thought of leading Bible study fills you with extreme terror?” 

Here’s The joy of service re-written (with apologies) for such a person. Because, yes, I have friends who lead Bible studies even though it terrifies them. And, yes, it works both ways.

I’m no up-the-front servant. My love is given to behind-the-scenes ministries: cooking a meal for a friend, stacking chairs, organising events. If I’m honest, I also love the safety of this kind of ministry. There: I’ve said it.

The word-y roles, the out-there roles, the people-can-see-me roles: they don’t come naturally to me. Sitting next to a stranger at church, reading the Bible during the service, welcoming newcomers, leading a small group, walking into a room full of people: I try to avoid these things. I have to fight down my terror as I do them. I don’t like this about myself, but it’s true.

I know this isn’t good enough. I know that to stuff envelopes and avoid people is as far from our Lord’s example as hell from heaven. And so picture, if you will, a recent morning at our church. The usual leaders aren’t there, so I sit with people I don’t know. When we split into small groups to pray after the sermon, I find myself leading the prayers.

Then there’s this moment. This crystal-clear, earth-touches-heaven, joy-filled moment. As I say a stumbling prayer for one of the members of the group, it’s as if I’m speaking Christ’s words on his behalf. If it was Paul’s privilege to suffer with him, it’s mine to serve with him.1 Looking at this group of strangers, awkward with unspoken fears, I touch the tiniest edge of what it meant for him to serve.

The One with the right to a universe of worship gave up his own interests, his right to equality with God, and made himself nothing. The King of heaven and earth got off a chair, tied a towel around his waist, and knelt to wash his follower’s feet. God’s own Son was stripped naked and hung on a cross, abandoned between earth and heaven, bleeding out his life for his bride.2

Leading a group in prayer is just a baby-step as I follow in his footsteps. But if so much joy can be found in such a simple task, I wonder what else we miss out on when we refuse to serve.


1. Romans 8:17; Colossians 1:24; John 13:14-17
2. Philippians 2:1-11; John 13:1-17; Mark 10:35-45

This post first appeared at The Briefing.

image is by HidingHeart at flickr

following the fearful apostle

I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. (1 Cor 2:3 NIV)

These words startle and comfort me. They remind me that the apostle Paul felt like I do. He was weak. He feared. He trembled.1 This is exactly how I feel:

• before I read the Bible with friends. What will they think of Jesus? What will they think of his outrageous claims? What will they think of me?


• before I lead a Bible study. Who will turn up? How will the discussion go? Will they want to come back next week?


• before I visit women from other cultures or religions. Will I be able to enter their world? Will I trangress some unspoken cultural law? How can I share the love of Jesus with them?


• before I go out for coffee with a friend. Will I get any opportunities to talk about my faith? Will I have the boldness to take them? Will I know what to say?

I love doing these things, and I love the people I do them with. I bring my fears to God (Phil 4:4-7, 1 Pet 5:6-7), and my worry lessens as my trust and confidence grow.2 But I still feel anxious. I’ve come to accept this – the apprehension that builds over several days, the wakeful hours in the night, the butterflies’ wings tickling my stomach – as part of the cost of living for Jesus (Rom 12:1). Feeling a little nervous is a small price to pay for helping people get to know him.

In all this, Paul is my example. For while he trembled and feared, he never let it stop him talking about Jesus. Instead, he boasted in his weakness because it highlighted Christ’s strength (2 Cor 12:9-10). He became all things to all people, so that by all means he might save some (1 Cor 9:22). He asked people to pray that he wouldn’t give way to fear (Eph 6:18-20). He set his mind on the goodness of God and the love of Christ that would never leave him (Rom 8:18-39). He revelled in the chance to share in Jesus’ suffering (Col 1:24). Why? Because he was compelled by the love of Christ to live not for himself, but for the one who died for him (2 Cor 5:14-15 NIV).

I’ll probably never have as much reason as Paul to fear. I don’t expect to be thrown into prison, shipwrecked, flogged, beaten with rods or pelted with stones (2 Cor 11:23-33). If his troubles were ‘light and momentary’, mine are a speck on the face of eternity. Still, I’m tempted to choose an easier path. So I say to myself, with Paul:

…we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Cor 4:16-18)

With God’s help, I’ll follow Paul’s example, fears and all.

1. See also 2 Cor 2:4, 7:5, 11:28-29; Gal 4:11; 1 Thess 3:5. ↩
2. This is not the place to develop a theology of anxiety, but if you’re interested, see Ed Welch’s excellent Running Scared: Fear, Worry and the God of Rest. ↩

This post first appeared in The Briefing today.

image is by Rakesh Rocky at flickr

Tim Keller Praying your fears

Last week I told you about Tim Keller's talk Praying our Tears. Today I'd like to tell you about Praying our Fears, in which he continues his series on Psalms.

If fear is not just being scared of real danger, but also worry about things that may never happen, then I'm an expert. I've known months when there was a band of anxiety around my middle and a sensation of butterflies in my stomach. If you're an anxious person, you know what I mean.

Tim Keller talks about both kinds of fear - fear of an immediate threat, and persistent anxiety - in his talk Praying our Fears on Psalm 3. Here's what he taught me about fear.

There are 2 steps into fear.
1. Fear: a healthy response to danger, which drives us to fight or flight, and then is gone.
2. Anxiety: a lingering, generalised, undefined sense of fear which paralyses us.

If fear is a thunderstorm, anxiety is a constant, cold drizzle: the first produces green growth, the second mildew. Fear can be good for us - it gets us out of danger! - but anxiety makes us agitated, nervous and upset. Constant anxiety can permanently turn on our autonomic nervous system, which is only meant to respond to crises, and so lead to all kinds of health issues.

What causes this second, debilitating kind of fear is not a threat to life or safety, but a threat to our identity: when something that makes us feel in control is threatened or taken away. In Psalm 3 David faces both kinds of fear: the physical threat from Absalom's armies, and the threat to his identity as the beloved, honoured, upright king of his people.

But how do we escape from this second, debilitating kind of fear?

There are 4 steps out of fear.
1. Follow your thread.
David describes God as a "shield around me" (Ps 3:1): a full-body shield which curves around the body, meant not for hand-to-hand combat but for following your commander into situations of extreme danger. If you turn and run, the shield won't protect you. It's only useful when you're heading into danger. Obedience takes us not away from fear, but through and beyond our fear.

2. Relocate your glory.
David says, literally, "but you are my glory" (Ps 3:3). He says "but..." because something else has become his glory: he has built his emotional and psychological identity on something other than God. When we put our worth and security in something finite, out there in time and space, we are always vulnerable. So we need to relocate our glory: not in our talents or our role, or others' opinion of us, but in God's approval.

3. See the substitute.
But how do we know we have God's approval? David says that God hears him because of his "holy hill", the temple (Ps 3:4), the symbol of our Saviour Jesus. Our significance doesn't come from what we have achieved or what we have, but from Jesus, the one who was cut off from God so we don't have to be.

4. Remember the people.
The opposite of fear is not an absence of fear, but love (1 Jn 4:18 cf Ps 3:8). Fear is self-centred, love is other-centred. You can't deal with fear by yourself: you have to get your mind off yourself by serving others in love.

So here's the solution to fear:

• go forward in obedience, whatever the cost
• seek my identity in God, instead of the thing I'm scared to lose
• look to the cross, where my significance comes from
• forget myself in love for others.

It sounds about right to me!

imags are from stock.xchng and sentex64 at flickr

the princess follows her thread

Have you read George MacDonald's The Princess and the Goblin? It was one of my favourite books as a child - and a great one to read with your kids, not least for the hidden messages about trust and obedience.

In the following passage, the princess follows a magic thread that her "great-great-grandmother" has said will always lead to her and safety, but which takes the princess into the dark passages at the heart of a mountain.

But presently she came to a huge heap of stones, piled in a slope against the wall of the cavern. On these she climbed, and soon recovered the level of the thread only however to find, the next moment, that it vanished through the heap of stones, and left her standing on it, with her face to the solid rock. For one terrible moment she felt as if her grandmother had forsaken her. ... She threw herself upon the heap, and began to cry. ... At length the thought struck her that at least she could follow the thread backwards, and thus get out of the mountain, and home. She rose at once, and found the thread. But the instant she tried to feel it backwards, it vanished from her touch. Forwards, it led her hand up to the heap of stones - backwards it seemed nowhere. ... She burst into a wailing cry, and again threw herself down on the stones.

In his talk Praying our Fears Tim Keller uses the princess's story as an illustration of obedience in the face of fear. When the princess follows her grandmother's thread, it leads her into dark places and she's tempted to go back; but when she tries to go back, the thread disappears.

When God calls us to obey, there are only 2 possible responses: obedience, which is hard; and disobedience, which is impossible. Obedience may seem to take us into danger, but backwards lies disaster: and so we face our fear and go forward.

That was just to whet your appetite! Tomorrow I'd like to follow up on last week's post and share what I learned from Tim Keller's talk on fear.

yes, grace enough just for today

Three months ago I was staring down the barrel of a busy, busy term. I wrote about anxiety and how God promises to give us grace enough just for today. Today I'm writing to let you know that he is faithful: he did just that.

Yes, it was one of the busiest terms of my life. Against the advice of wise friends (sorry friends!) I added a second seminar to my already heavy load. Looking back, it's clear that I took too much on (note to self: never write a complete set of Sunday School lessons and a seminar - let alone two! - in the same term again). It could have been a recipe for disaster, and really, it's only by God's grace that it wasn't.

But God is faithful.

He answered my prayers. I prayed about my anxieties (Phil 4:5-7) and he lifted the burden of worry from my shoulders so that I felt virtually free of anxiety and despondency the whole term long. This is nothing short of a miracle for a woman who struggles with anxiety as frequently as I do. (It doesn't always work that way. Sometimes feelings of anxiety aren't taken away, and we have to battle them and trust God in the face of them.)

He answered my prayers. I was determined to trust him for "grace enough just for today" - time and energy to do ministry preparation, love my family, lead a Bible study and care for my friends. I'm sure many things slipped through the cracks, but most of the important stuff got done.

He answered my prayers. He gave me the blessing of watching my children excitedly discover great truths about God during Sunday School, the privilege of helping young women grow deeper into the grace of Christ as I led seminars on change and spiritual disciplines, and the joy of catching up with old friends and making a new friend (you know who you are!). Truly God is good.

I'm facing another busy term or two. Nothing like last term, thankfully - but do any of us really face a term that's stress-free and easy? Not this mother! I'd like to say I'm stepping forward in confidence that the God who provided for last term will provide for the next. Truth be told, I'm still battling anxiety and apprehension.

But I know this: however I may feel, whatever I may face, God hasn't changed. When he promises to provide for our needs (Phil 4:19, 2 Pet 1:3) that's a promise that holds true for any and every circumstance. He is trustworthy and true.

Whatever sorrows or joys you and I may face during the coming months, I pray that we will be able to trust him together, in the confidence that our loving heavenly Father will never let us out of his hands.

Ed Welch on fear

The advance course in fear is this last thing. All I can do is to throw it out to you, and ask you and others to teach me over time.

"I am crucified with Christ, nonetheless I live." I died. There's nothing to lose.

Are you going to take away my life? Well, I've already died! There's nothing you can do to me! You, as an enemy, there is nothing you can do, nothing you can say, because I've already died.

When my worries and fears are kicking up big, the apostle Paul leads me into the advanced course. What does it mean to have been crucified with Christ? It means that there's absolutely nothing to lose. You can't hurt a dead man who's alive. There's nothing you can do to such a person.

So, when you're afraid, die. Die to the opinions of other people. Die to wealth. Die to possessions. Die to reputation. Die to your demand to be loved.

Know this freedom of being able to die with Christ and being able to live with him.

Ed Welch Issues in Biblical Counselling talk 16

images are from stock.xchng

Issues in Biblical Counselling by Ed Welch

I've been listening to a fantastic talk series during the last couple of months: Ed Welch's Issues in Biblical Counselling. It's a 24 talk short course which he gave at the Melbourne PTC.

If you meet one-to-one with other Christians to disciple them, if you're in ministry or Christian leadership, or if you struggle with issues like suffering, anxiety, anger or guilt (don't we all?!) you'll find these talks encouraging and challenging.

Ed Welch talked about

• the nature of biblical counselling and the person
• the 4 staples of counselling - suffering, guilt, anger and fear
• unusual problems - mania, schizophrenia, depression, addictions

Here's some things I learned:

• Christ is the centre of the process of change. We often use the Bible like an encyclopedia of proof texts. If a word ("anorexia", "OCD") isn't there, we assume the Bible doesn't address it; and if a word ("anxiety", "anger") is there, we stick to the "relevant" verses. But the Bible is the story of Christ, and of how God saves and transforms us through the gospel. This bigger story shapes how we respond to every issue - even those the Bible doesn't name. If someone wants help with a problem, don't just look up verses which address or condemn the problem: read passages which reveal Christ and win our hearts. The ultimate solution to every problem is the gospel of Jesus Christ.
• The Bible is sufficient to deal with all sinful behaviours and negative emotions. We often divide people into body, soul/psyche and spirit. The first is treated by doctors, the second by psychologists, and the third by the church. We hand people with issues like depression, addictions and anxiety over to professional counsellors. But if you trace any psychiatric illness back to its historical roots, you'll find that people once turned to the church for help. We can learn from secular counsellors, and medication can relieve symptoms. But God's word and gospel alone can change the heart. God's word is clear - it's not just for scholars - and we'll find our answers here.
• Our behaviour and emotions come from our hearts (although our emotions are also affected by our bodies). With our hearts, our inner selves, we think and believe, and with our hearts, we worship and desire. We can't blame our actions on our circumstances, personality or upbringing: we choose how to respond. Christian counsellors often speak of the person as someone with needs for love and relationship. But our hearts are not so much empty vessels waiting to be filled, as rudders directing us towards what we desire. Our hearts are active not passive.
• The horizontal reveals the vertical. If you see me get angry, or hear me complaining, you learn that I'm ultimately angry or resentful towards God. Our emotions and actions show who has our allegiance, God or Satan. Who do we worship? Who do we trust? Whom will we serve?
• The four staples of counselling are suffering, guilt, anger and fear. We'll have lots to say to anyone who's struggling if we learn how the Bible responds to these four issues. Ed Welch spent hours talking about suffering, specifically about how he would respond to someone who was sexually abused as a child. His two talks on guilt and legalism shook my perfectionism to its core. He called the angry to become like Christ. His talks on anxiety encouraged me deeply.
• Move towards those who are suffering. If there's one thing I took away from these talks, this is it! Those who are suffering are prime targets for Satan's attacks, so even if you feel completely helpless, move towards those who are suffering. Don't ignore them, don't say nothing, don't forget to call. At the very least, say "I'm so sorry." Don't just offer to help, give practical help. If you have nothing to say, listen, and pray with them from God's word. God pursues us, so we should pursue others.
• Aim for self-forgetful love not self-esteem. The gospel is the story of the God who saves unworthy sinners not because there's anything good in us, but because he loves us for his own glory. The gospel doesn't so much encourage us to think better or worse of ourselves as less frequently about ourselves and more about Christ. True humanness is about loving others, not being loved; about glorifying God, not having my needs met.
• Ask the next question. Often, the most useful thing you can do is to ask one more question: "Why do you ...? Did you know that you ...? Do you want to change?" If you seem to be missing the point - if they're looking blank, like you're not taking them with you - stop and ask again, "What am I missing? Is what I'm saying helpful? Help me to understand what you're feeling." Walk beside people, don't stand over them.
• Find the normal in the abnormal. If someone is behaving bizarrely, or is making bizarre claims, treat them like anyone else. Ask ordinary questions: "What's going on here? Why are you doing that? Why do you feel scared?" Look for the person behind the behaviour. Listen for the issues we all struggle with: suffering, guilt, anger and fear. Ed Welch puts the Bible through its paces - is it sufficient to deal with addictions, mania and schizophrenia, and depression? - and shows how God's truth reaches ordinary people struggling with extraordinary problems.
• Christians should have a high tolerance for eccentricity. Have you noticed the space around unusual people in social gatherings? Christians should be moving towards people, not away from them! Ignore the bizarre behaviour unless it stems from deeper issues like anxiety, or leads to sin, then deal with it as you would with any other Christian, by encouraging faith and repentance. If the Bible doesn't address the behaviour, you don't need to either. If it's just odd behaviour that's putting a barrier between the person and others, don't ignore it: give honest advice out of love.
• There is hope for change. A great God is working in us through his powerful gospel by his indwelling Spirit, and he promises that we will one day be glorious creatures who perfectly reflect his glory. We should have boundless optimism for change in ourselves and others. When you see people change, take off your shoes: you are standing on holy ground.

images are from stock.xchng

grace enough just for today

I wrote this at the start of the school holidays. It's for you, if you ever struggle with anxiety and fear about the future. I've included a cluster of quotes about how God gives us grace enough - just for today.

I tell you, do not worry about your life ... But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Jesus - Matt 6:25, 27, 33-34

It's school holidays here in Victoria. First term wasn't easy, and I'm tired out. I settled Thomas into his first school year. I led a weekly Bible study. I combined all the usual duties - helping my husband, raising 4 children, caring for our home - with all the usual ministries - blogging, reading, thinking, writing. I felt overwhelmed, even though it was the easiest term of my year. So I've been worrying about next term.

Such strange creatures are we that we probably smart more under blows which never fall upon us than we do under those which do actually come. Charles Spurgeon

Next term, I'm writing a book review for a Christian magazine. I'm writing and leading a woman's seminar. I'm writing and teaching a 10-week Sunday School program. I'm helping out at Thomas' school every Wednesday. It all runs round and round my mind, and I wonder how I'll cope. Which is just the state of mind Satan wants me in:

We want him to be in the maximum uncertainty, so that his mind will be filled with contradictory pictures of the future, every one of which arouses hope or fear. There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human's mind against the Enemy [God]. He wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them. (CS Lewis The Screwtape Letters)

You've probably noticed this is a common pattern for me (and perhaps for you!). I felt the same at the start of last term. However hard I battle worry, I have to battle it again. Always there are things to be feared. Always there are anxieties which threaten to overwhelm me. Always there are 1000 possible futures which loom large in my mind.

[T]he problem with fears that exist only in our imagination is that, since they aren’t real, we must face them alone. God’s grace isn’t available to help us overcome imaginary problems that reside only in our mind. He will help us to put these imagined fears to death, but it’s only in the real world that His power is effective to uphold us in trouble. It’s only when He calls us to actually go through difficult times that His power is present to protect, comfort, and strengthen us. (Elyse Fitzpatrick Overcoming Fear, Worry and Anxiety 46)

Today I listened to a talk on anxiety by Ed Welch, which spoke to my heart and calmed my fears. He was speaking about the verse, "do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own" (Matt 6:34). He compared this to the experience of the Israelites in the wilderness.

Then the LORD said to Moses, "I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. ... Each morning everyone gathered as much as he needed, and when the sun grew hot, it melted away. (Exod 16:4, 21)

When God cared for the Israelites, he didn't provide enough manna for more than one day, except on the day before the Sabbath. Those who disobeyed and collected more found that it went bad before morning. Every morning, these hungry desert-wandering nomads woke up with empty hands. Every morning, they opened the tent flaps to see God's miraculous provision - just enough for that day! - lying like snow on the ground.

I wake up in the morning and say, "I can't do it. There's no way I'm going to get through this day." And at the end of the day, ... God gave grace for me to get through the day, and I could never have imagined what that grace would have looked like. ... Fear and anxiety, they live in the future tense. I'm asking you to do the impossible. I'm asking you to move toward the present by faith in Christ. ... So let's ask this question. What is now? What does now look like? What does obedience look like now? What is the grace that you have been given today? (Ed Welch Issues in Biblical Counselling talk 16)

I'd like to be fully prepared for every day of the coming term. I'd like to collect enough trust, enough energy, enough resources, to make it through each day. But that's not what God promises. He promises me grace for every day as it comes. He promises me grace for the present moment, not for 1000 possible moments. He knows what lies ahead, and he'll give me the grace I need exactly when I need it.

"When I was a little girl," I said, "I went to my father and said, "Daddy, I am afraid that I will never be strong enough to be a martyr for Jesus Christ." "Tell me," said Father, "When you take a train trip to Amsterdam, when do I give you the money for the ticket? Three weeks before?" "No, Daddy, you give me the money for the ticket just before we get on the train." "That is right," my father said, "and so it is with God's strength. Our Father in Heaven knows when you will need the strength to be a martyr for Jesus Christ. He will supply all you need – just in time…" (Corrie ten Boon letter)

There will be days this term when I'll go to bed empty, at the end of my tether, with nothing left in reserve for tomorrow. But when I wake up, I know that God's manna will be lying like snow on the ground. As I read his word, he will give me encouragement. As I walk in obedience, he will give me strength. As I struggle - and yes! at times, fail - he will give me grace. That's God's way: he drives us to the end of ourselves so we will find our hope in him.

And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Phil 4:19

first image is from Cecilia Levy on flickr; others are from stock.xchng

Overcoming Fear, Worry and Anxiety: book review

The book that's encouraged me most deeply recently (apart from the Bible!) is Elyse Fitzpatrick's Overcoming Fear, Worry and Anxiety: Becoming a Woman of Faith and Confidence. I wanted to loan it to a friend, and I had no trouble gobbling it up in a single day.

It's not a long book, and it's very readable. Each chapter begins with stories of women who struggle with anxiety. You're bound to see yourself in some of them! It's comforting to know we're not alone, and to hear how God has helped people to overcome their worry and fear.

Section 1 the nature of fear
Elyse Fitzpatrick starts by talking about the physical nature of fear, and how it can lead to panic attacks. I was challenged when I realised that caffeine, sugar, and insufficient exercise and rest can feed into the vicious cycle of fear. There's a few changes to be made there!

Section 2 the source of your fears
What had the most profound impact on me was realising that there are "three primary causes of fear" (196):

• the desire to control
• the desire to please people
• the desire to be perfect

There they were, in black and white! I'm an expert in all three, so it's no wonder I sometimes struggle with discouragement and anxiety. I bought the book because of the chapter on perfectionism, but I found some of the other chapters even more helpful, particularly the one on people-pleasing.

It's hard to struggle with anxiety, depression, guilt or any difficult emotion over a long period of time: if you're human, I'm sure you know that! It's easy to run from the situation which is causing such pain. It's easy to start questioning whether God really is working in you, or whether you'll be stuck this way forever.

So it was so reassuring to read these words, and to realise that I can trust God to change me, in his own good timing, through the circumstances he's given me:

Think about the trials or difficulties that you are facing. … Is it possible that God has allowed these specific difficulties into your life to teach you of His goodness, of your inability to control events, and to set you free from your fears? … Could He free you from your fears? Yes. Will he free you? Yes, when it pleases Him to do so. In the meantime, He's using your fear to draw you to Himself and to change you. If you didn't struggle with these problems, you wouldn't see your need for Him. You see, God is interested in this change in you because He is going to be glorified because of it, and that's the goal of everything He does: His glory. (60, 133)

Section 3 - God's answers to your fears
Elyse Fitzpatrick's answer to worry, anxiety and fear is to unpack 4 themes in 4 chapters:

• God's sovereignty - God is in control, however hard it is to see this during times of suffering
• the fear of God - the fear of God is big enough to displace all smaller fears
• the opposite of fear: love - as we love others rather than giving in to fear, we overcome anxiety
• God's grace - God's grace sustains us and gives us confidence to change

I found the chapters on the fear of God and love the most helpful. It seems to me that no human fear can possibly stand before the combined power of these two!

Only the fear of God is big enough to drive out all other fears: not a slavish fear, that cringes from God, but a childlike fear, that delights in his awesome majesty and runs to him in love and trust.

We might be scared to leave the house, or sit through church, or talk to a stranger, or lead a Bible study. Only as we dare to trust God and act in obedience, even when our hearts are pounding and we have a tight band of anxiety around our chest, will we overcome our fears.

As we reach out to others in love, even when we're afraid, we'll discover that love is stronger than fear. Our love for others will become greater than our fear of their disapproval and our worry about them loving us.

I found myself praying that my fear of God and my love for others will become bigger than my fears, so that I will love friends who don't know God by joyfully sharing the hope I have in Jesus. I'm also trying to pray for, rather than worry about, those whose opinions and criticisms I fear.

Two days ago, I prayed with some good friends. We talked about how it's a battle - every single day! for all of us! - to let go of our fears and to trust God. Every day, we battle to depend on faith rather than feeling. Every day, we struggle to do the things that are hard for us, trusting God to give us the strength we need. Every day, we fight to believe that God is bigger than our fears, and that he is working in us by his grace according to his perfect timing.

If you struggle with fear, worry or anxiety, I encourage you to read this helpful book.

images are from stock.xchng

surely goodness and mercy

How are you feeling about the year that's just begun? Are you optimistic and ready for its demands? Or are you anxious and stressed, worried that you won't be able to cope with the months ahead?

I've been regarding this year with trepidation. Normally by early January, I've reflected on the year that's passed and the one that's coming. I've thought about what areas of godliness I want to work on, and written a list of resolutions to be observed or ignored, as the case may be. I've drawn up a budget, and typed out a daily and weekly plan. But an overly busy December and illness during our post-Christmas vacation left little time for reflection and planning. What's more, last year was a hard year, which scared me a little. I feel anxious about my ability to cope with the unknown, and worried that the known will look all too familiar.

Or I was feeling like that until I picked up my Bible the other morning. I turned the pages to the well-known words of Psalm 23, and read each sentence slowly and prayerfully. ...

Read the rest at Sola Panel today