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Is Jesus Enough?
“I just wanted Jesus to be enough,” flashed in my mind with a faith-battering force as I sat frightened and alone in the Turkish psychiatric hospital. My life had imploded. I was the wife to an adoring husband, the mother of 4 beautiful children, and lived my days as a missionary in a predominantly Muslim country sharing hope in Christ. Childhood trauma, effortlessly concealed behind a well-manicured appearance, gnawed away at my mind going unnoticed by even those closest to me. Dangerous thoughts, strangely coexisting with Scripture, had taken up residence in my mind, secretly threatening my life by irrationally presenting death as the only option of escape.
Can You Release the Jar?
The other day, a jar of enchilada sauce defeated me. I gripped the lid tightly, twisted the bottom in the opposite direction from the top, and tried to access the sauce inside the jar. The lid stubbornly refused to budge. I re-gripped and tried again, but the lid remained in place. A third attempt also proved useless. Various family members passed through the kitchen, and I solicited their help to release the grip of this tenacious lid. Finally, my husband appeared and saved the day. The lid opened with a pop and the jar surrendered its contents to the enchiladas lined up in my pan.
The jar’s top functioned as it was designed. It kept the sauce contained and protected until the contents were needed. If anything, the protective lid struggled to release the sauce when it was time.
I know how the top of that jar felt. I have prayer requests that I have gripped as tightly as the lid gripped that jar because I’m sure they are the right solutions to my problems. You might do the same.
Why Can’t I Surrender?
I was on a conference call when it happened, but I could have easily been on the phone with one of my young adult kids, or in the kitchen when my husband came home, or having lunch with a good friend. Someone made a comment that shattered my peace and filled me with dismay and devastation. The rest of my world stopped while my thoughts started spinning. How can I solve this problem?
Should I Stop Striving?
Years ago, I remembered thinking, One day, I won't be tempted to sin anymore. One day, I will fully trust God with all my son's health issues. One day, I'll stop searching for approval from others. One day, I won't struggle with God anymore.
How can I be sure that I’ll make it to Heaven?
God's grace is so mysterious because we often feel like we don't deserve it, and we're exactly right. We don't. But He gave it freely anyway. Grace is absolutely scandalous! How could a seasoned criminal skeet by with a free pass? How could the adulterous woman be given a second shot? How could God look upon me as I was drowning in a sea of drugs, alcohol, and promiscuity and decide that I was worthy of His love?
Does God Know What He’s Doing?
Have you ever experienced a moment that turned your life upside down and left you feeling disoriented and distraught? Maybe that describes your current reality and you’re wondering if the future will ever feel promising again. Whether we try harder or deny its existence or numb it or push through it, emotional pain isn’t healthy to ignore. It must be addressed, or it will start to control our actions.
Perfect Peace
Someone(s) is perfect. There, I said it. Behind the door marked “do not enter,” in that wing of my brain where guests aren’t invited, locked inside a secret safe with my files of fears, diary of shame and private collection of insecurities was the belief that perfection might be possible.
Why Can't I Get it Under Control?
You’re not alone
I see you. I feel you. I understand. It wasn’t that long ago that I woke up on a Sunday morning, a holiday or even a weekday, feeling like a failure. Mornings were the most painful. Sure, my head hurt with hangover, but my self-confidence was shattered by shame. Once again, I felt defeated. Despite my best efforts to control, my promises to play it safe, my determination to only drink a couple, I’d failed again. No one knew the level of loneliness I was living, the solitary confinement I had self-imposed. I was convinced no one would understand. I didn’t look or act like an alcoholic. Everyone in my social circle drank too. How could I ever ask for help? How could I ever consider living life without drinking?!