Category Archives: Inner Healing

The Sinking Ship

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2006

I’m too busy. Important details are slipping through my fingers. I’m worried over finances (first the washing machine died, then the compressor on the upstairs air conditioning unit quit, and now the car needs a new muffler). I’m worried over my daughters’ needs, over my health, sleep, and eating habits, over other people’s health, over ministry needs.

I haven’t been at peace for a while. When circumstances go awry or when things spin out of control, is my response always a trigger from the past? Or can it be a new situation? It’s a tangled mess right now. Where to begin to lay it on the altar?

Sometimes it’s simply a choice. And today my choice it to hand God my worry.

My ship floats in a sea of God’s love and care, but in my ship dwell all my cares and concerns. When life comes at me one bundle at a time, I can deal with each in turn and move on. But when the bundles continue to compile, my stress elevates, and my ship sinks deeper into the water. There aren’t too many choices: throw some of the bundles overboard, climb to the top and enjoy the view, or sink with the ship. This could be akin to burnout, and I don’t want to go there.

This weekend was the last bundle to pile on top. Was it from God to test me or simply an opportunity to minister to one of God’s children?

My husband’s name is listed in the phone book under clergy, and we get periodic pleas for help from random strangers. One time I was able to pray with a lady for an hour. Usually, I refer them to the church office. This time it was Saturday, church office closed, when I got a call from Gerry, a 62-year-old homeless Christian widow who was stranded near us and afraid to get on the highway with her car leaking fluid. I invited her to spend the night. It broke my heart not to be able to help her more, but I couldn’t take on one more thing. If I’m feeling this much stress, I cannot even begin to fathom what she goes through on a daily basis to survive.

Was I foolish to take her in? Was she merely working the system to get what she wants? I gave her what I could—a bed and meals, laundry, a hot shower, and a phone card. But I wanted to give her more. I wanted to pray with her intensively to heal a few hurts, but I don’t think she was ready for that yet. I listened, I didn’t judge her, I held her, and I prayed for her. What more did You want from me, Lord? She was a bundle I had to gently place overboard and trust her to God’s care.

Gerry told me a Catholic Father, responsible for his flock, went to bed each night praying, “God take care of Your sheep; I’m going to sleep.” That’s profound. God, take care of my friend Gerry. I need to take care of my family now.

When do you come to the place where you say no to someone’s plea for help? I have control over who I schedule to pray with. It’s a steady stream, usually not too much, but right now, it’s too much. With two graduations, a senior show, and a reception to prepare for, I feel swamped. I feel like climbing out of the boat and swimming in God’s love for a while. I need a spiritual bath.

Now I see barnacles of pride and sin and anger cemented to the bottom of my boat. I must chip them off, break the bonds that hold them in place, and let them float away.

Next day. My boat has suddenly sprung a leak. It appears that our house guest stole my credit card. I called to cancel the card and filed a police report. I feel sad for Gerry. I was taken advantage of. I gave her dollars I could ill afford to give her, and she stole from me. I could be angry, bitter, hateful, revengeful. Instead, I feel sorrow for her. Would I do the same were I in her shoes? Perhaps. Lord, take care of my friend Gerry. I believe she’s Your child. She believes You’re punishing her for her divorce.

That night. Shame-faced, I found my credit card in the pocket of my housecoat—right where I put it yesterday. Lord, help me. Were you protecting me from some future fraud through this incident? What’s going on here? What lesson are You trying to teach me? You’ve just restored my faith in human beings. God, forgive me. I falsely accused an innocent person. Lord, please protect her from false arrest.

Why does money drive everything here on earth? A homeless person struggles for daily bread and survival next to the millionaire who lives in luxury. Money can mean survival or demise. Why do we hang onto it so tightly? Or let it go so easily? What happened to the trusting nature of my childhood? Have I seen too much now of how the other half lives? Is it because I don’t feel in control of what I do have? I’m living in a very stable condition now, but life is so uncertain. You can build a business for a lifetime and then lose it in one disaster. What exactly am I afraid of? What are my worries? How do I let go?

A 2025 Update. Shortly after this, we removed Scott’s title “Reverend” from our phone listing, and the calls stopped. Was that a good decision?

I don’t remember how I processed through this visual, but I realize now that the more bundles I carried, the deeper I sank into God’s love, and that’s not a bad thing. I may not have been in control of the bundles of life’s circumstances, but what didn’t belong and what made it worse was the weight of my worry and the unholy barnacles. I also learned through this incident that I cannot rescue everyone. I am not meant to do God’s job.

Meltdown Day

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2006

Galatians 5:19-21 lists “acts of the flesh” as “immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these.”

I’m not too worried about drunkenness, orgies, sorcery, and idolatry. But what of selfishness? Or outbursts of anger? Or envy? Are we not all guilty of these at some point?

This is more than a list. It’s an admonition for self-examination. And so my prayer today, Lord, is for You to reveal and expose any area in my life that does not exhibit a fruit of the Spirit.

Later. That’s the quickest answer to prayer I’ve ever had! Yesterday was an emotionally draining day. It will forever be known in my mind as “Meltdown Day.”

Probably ten years ago, I got ticked off with a friend over an issue that affected me. She promised to take care of it, but she never did. Year after year, I stewed inside, waiting for her to fulfill her promise. Up to now, she’d always put up a brick wall when I brought up the subject.

Well, yesterday, the subject came up again, and I was surprised when she said she’d handle it. Now, it appeared that a little door had opened in her wall, and it felt safe to walk through it.

Wrong. She got triggered and slammed that door in my face. The why is her story, her issue. But my response was so out of character and out of line that I knew it tapped into something deep inside. I had been working through a grief issue just before this incident, and it was not finished yet. This seemed to blow it wide open.

I grabbed some Kleenex, hopped onto my bicycle, and rode to our local playground. I cried for over an hour before I started to process my anger, envy, and grief. It took another couple hours to talk it out with my friend.

Deep wounds take a long time to heal and release, I think. But why are they there in the first place? Perhaps because of our own sin. Perhaps because of other people’s sin against us. Or maybe it’s just lies we believe. Guilty. I raise my hand. Guilty.

Lord, forgive my stubborn heart.

Burnout Is a Dead campfire

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2006

Burnout is a dead campfire. No spark, no heat, just cold ashes. No life left to warm others. No energy to cook. Useless. It needs an outside source to reignite the wood. And rain further diminishes any chance of catching a spark. Cool and damp, I retreat to my tent.

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AI-generated

I remember my experience in Grade 6 at Camp Barakel.* One night we were scheduled to camp outdoors, but for some reason our counselor decided to forgo setting up tents. In the middle of the night, rain sent us dashing to our cabins—clothing, hair, and sleeping bags soaked. Shivering and shaking, I wrapped myself in my one dry towel for the rest of the miserable night.

I don’t know how to release the bone-chilling shivers in this memory. It reminds me of the day my dad, my brother, and I got caught in a downpour on our motorcycle on an African footpath. As soon as we reached home, Mom stoked the fire in the wood stove to heat up some water, stripped off my clothes, and plopped me into the tin bathtub. I think I’ve hated being cold ever since.

As I sit with the memories and release my anger and blame, I notice my campfire has a single flame, fed by a wick where oil flows steadily beneath it—God’s eternal supply. I venture out of my tent and savor the warmth. Perhaps I’ll have enough strength now to face tomorrow.

*I haven’t thought about this camp in years. What fun to discover it is still in existence. Camp Barakel | A Year-round Christian Camp in Northeast Michigan

Blessings and Curses—the Power of Words

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2006

Why is it sometimes easier to absorb negative comments than positive ones?

When someone says something negative to me, I tend to accept the curse of their words, allow the knife’s edge to pierce my heart, and begin to believe the lie that their words are true. And then I protectively shroud my heart. But when I agree to let go of my protective cover and feel the hurt, God heals the wound, and the curse of the words dissolves. Once the curse is broken, someone may repeat those same ugly words, but this time they’ll be deflected by the shield of truth.

When someone says something positive to me, however, it’s sometimes harder for the blessing to sink in. For example, you might tell me I’m beautiful. But if I believe I’m ugly, I will deny your blessing, and it will bounce off my head and never absorb into my heart. It’s all about lies I believe.

James 3:10 (NIV) says, “Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be.” I am responsible for what comes out of my mouth, and I am responsible for processing what’s in my heart when it comes out of yours.

For further reflection, here are some examples of blessings and curses in the Bible.

  • God spoke a blessing after He created the earth. “This is good!” He declared. (Genesis 1:24)
  • God cursed the ground after The Fall (Genesis 3). To live under a curse is a terrible thing. Heaven will be a lifting of the curse and a return to beauty and perfection.
  • God cursed Cain as a punishment for murder (Genesis 4:11). Yet, even in the curse, God placed a mark on Cain as a way of escape. Mercy.
  • Abraham understood the power of blessings and curses.  God said to him, “I will bless you … You will be a blessing … I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse him who curses you … In you shall the families and kindred of the earth be blessed, and by you they shall bless themselves” (Genesis 12:1-3).
  • Jacob wrestled with the angel and would not let him go until the angel was willing to “declare a blessing on him” (Genesis 32). What does this mean anyway?
  • Pagan Laban said to godly Eliezer, “You are blessed of the Lord” (Genesis 24:31). He spoke true words even if he didn’t understand them.
  • The Lord blessed Potifar’s house “for Joseph’s sake; and the Lord’s blessing was on all that he had in the house and in the field” (Genesis 39:5).
  • Jesus became a curse for us. “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree” (Deuteronomy 21:23). If just ONE curse on our heads brings wounding, my imagination isn’t great enough to fathom the curse of the world on His shoulders. He felt all my sin, all the curses I’ve ever spoken. The world itself—that He made with His own hands—rejected Him, thrusting a giant sword through His heart. In one agonizing, painful moment He knew—He could identify with soul wounds. He never believed a lie, but He felt the curse. A terrible moment in time. But He broke the curse!
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I love this AI-generated photo.

Guilt and Forgiveness—a Visual

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2005

Guilt is like walking on a sandy beach, leaving footprints for all to see. And when shame tries to smooth over the prints, I create more footprints in my retreat.

Forgiveness is God sending His wind (the Holy Spirit) to blow across the sand, erasing all the prints. And even if I fail again, the wind continues to blow.

How much better to scramble onto a rock, where no footprints can be made, and no guilt and shame exist.

I’m on the Rock, hallelujah,

I’m on the Rock to stay,

For He lifted me from the miry clay—

I’m on the Rock to stay.

(Hymn, public domain)

Bad Mood Thunderstorm

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2005

With a satisfying morning behind me, as I entered the room with a smile on my face, I immediately sensed a shift in the atmosphere. This person’s bad mood challenged my response.

I see a dark cloud swirling above her head. Since she’s cold and damp and miserable, no wonder she grumbles and complains. (Or does she relish the attention she gets from her drama?) Anyway—what is that to me? The problem is, I can’t get near her, or I’ll get drenched too—or worse, get zapped by the lightning coming out of her cloud. I confess I prefer to avoid prickly people, but if I do, I forfeit relationship and I can’t help them.

As I pray about my dilemma, the Lord says, “Wherever you are, rest in the eye of the storm, and the swirling wind about you will push her rain away so that you can draw near. You don’t have to be affected by her weather patterns.”

Lord, keep me in the center of You.

AI generated photo

Out of Control

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2006

This was not my favorite day! I had my goals, expectations, and vision of an uninterrupted day to catch up on my work. It started at 4:30 a.m. with the cat waking me up, and it went downhill from there. I spent very little time at my desk, ran errands instead, met others’ needs, and ended the day an emotional wreck. No alone time and thwarted at every turn, I felt off balance, out of kilter.

How do I balance plans with interruptions? Why does it upset my equilibrium when I don’t get my way? I should have known . . . I should have anticipated . . . I should have been others-centered instead of self-centered, runs through my brain.

I used to have a tight control over my schedule. I was on the dance floor without a partner. I could sit on the side and play solitaire, get up and get a snack at my leisure, or sway to the music if I wanted to. I affected very few people with my decisions.

And then I got married. Having a dance partner meant I couldn’t sit down as often. Sometimes he served me drinks; sometimes I served him, and at all times we were aware of each other’s presence and needs. If we both were in the mood to dance, we did. If we both wanted to rest, we did. If one did and the other did not, we had to compromise or sacrifice. It was easier sometimes to give in than to fight over it; other times easier to think only about my own needs.

And just as I began to learn that dance, we had children. We adjusted to their varying heights and were less free to move around. I spent far more time fetching drinks for everyone and making trips to the bathroom than keeping time to the music. There was no standing still.

Next, a lot of messy people joined the dance floor asking for help. Some were unseemly characters. Others dressed nicely, but they didn’t know how to dance. Others were too weak and sick to dance. And the world of the dance floor suddenly became more complicated. While I was responding to the needs of the lonely ones on the bench or the thirsty ones in wheelchairs, my husband may have been in the mood to dance. And out of the corner of my eye, I watched one of our girls dancing her own dance with a guy. And my eyes and my heart were torn or divided or distracted or overwhelmed.

Add to that the God-element. In a fifth dimension, unseen to the human eye, the Holy Spirit and the evil one mingled among and through us, stirring us up, catching us when we stumbled, whispering lies or truth in each of our ears as we danced and sat and ate and drank.

I have a restlessness inside. Some days I just wish life would return to the days when I was a solo dancer, in control of my own decisions.

I know I must get away, and so I slip away from my dance partner, away from the tug of the needy ones, away from the vigilance on my children, and head to the balcony to drink in the night air and enjoy the stars. But just as I reach the top step, a noisy group comes spilling out of the room to join me, and the magic of the night is lost.

Instead, I find a quiet bench in the garden. I can still hear the music, and I know I can be interrupted at any time. I just want to go Home (with a capital “H”) where it’s safe, soft, peaceful, quiet. But it’s not time yet.

And so, for now, I slip further into the gardens, hiding behind a tree, hoping not to be found. But my dance partner is lonely and comes seeking me. And I set aside my own needs and return once more to the dance hall.

And the restlessness continues. It has nothing, really, to do with what’s going on around me. It’s not the people, the noise, or the distractions. It’s what’s going on inside my heart–an open door, a furnace burning inside my chest, stoked by anger. And even when I go home (lowercase “h”) the fire remains. Hot. There’s no escaping it.

In the middle of the dance floor, with my permission Jesus reaches out His hand, extinguishes the fire, and says, “Give Me the treasure of your heart.”

I’m willing, but I don’t understand—I don’t know what’s in it. Again, with my permission, He reaches into the door of my heart and retrieves a box. “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” He explains. And I expect Him to take it up to heaven and deposit it under the throne. (Isn’t that what Matthew 6:20-21 teaches? “Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven . . .”) But, instead, He places my box inside His own heart. “For safe keeping,” He says.

And now it doesn’t matter what goes on around me because I’m following my Treasure. When He says, “Dance,” I dance. When He says, “Rest,” I rest. When He says, “Serve,” I do that.

It’s not about controlling my world but about controlling my mind.

Fashion Rebellion

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing

Journal 2016

I have been rebelling against fashion since I was in junior high boarding school. While girls were begging to wear shorter skirts, I insisted on lowering my hems. One day in home economics class we learned what colors supposedly looked good together. Apparently orange and pink was a no-no (this was before the crazy ’70s entered the scene). One of my classmates dared me to put together a clashing skirt/blouse combo and wear it to breakfast that morning. I felt proud that I had enough guts to go against established rules of fashion and confident enough in who I was to pull off the faux pas.

But, to my chagrin, one of the Aunties pulled me aside to inform me that my wardrobe choice was a less than desirable combination of colors.

“How could she think so little of me?” I thought indignantly. Even when I told her that I wasn’t ignorant, that it was done on a dare, the damage in my soul was done. I felt embarrassed where before I felt confident.

I take this emotion to Jesus, and He smiles.

“Why are You smiling?” I ask.

“I love that you have self-confidence to be who you are. Never mind the Auntie. She didn’t know. She was simply trying to be helpful. Wear whatever you choose—with confidence.”

I wish I’d known this the year we were on furlough for my junior year of high school. Someone kindly donated their rejects to the poor missionary barrel, and I ignorantly donned a dress that apparently was out of style. One ill comment, and I never wore it again.

What I choose to wear reflects who I am, and to which master I serve. I want to be confident in who God made me to be.

A 2024 Update. Admittedly, I still have poor fashion sense and find it helpful to take a daughter along with me to shop for clothes—though I maintain the power of veto. I tend to follow my mother’s advice: wear only what’s comfortable.

I made this dress in 1975. This really was in style then!

Judgmentalism

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2017

Two or three times in church today I found unwanted thoughts in my head—critiquing (I refuse to use the word criticize because I don’t want to go down that road) the person or event. We all do it—okay most of us do it.

It irritates me a little if a person says everything is perfect ALL the time. They are too delighted in everything—and then I realize as I say this, that all the people I know like this are sanguines—which I am not. Declaring everything is always perfect, good, and wonderful, feels disingenuous. It’s not reality. But neither is the doom and gloom of the pessimist. I’m somewhere in between.

What I don’t like is the unbidden thoughts I have regarding others. I used to judge and feel superior and all that nasty self-righteousness stuff. Now I just notice. But why, I ask myself, do I even need to notice? I guess the only way NOT to notice is to be blind.

Okay, I really must be honest with myself. It’s not the noticing that’s the problem. So what is it? Why does it matter? That’s where the emotion lies.

I find the memory and process it, and it feels better now. Noticing is okay; judging is unproductive.

See-saw Memory

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2016

I felt a trigger this week that took me back to the sensation of being at the end of a teeter-totter. My playmate sat on the end of the board at ground-level, suspending me in the air, feet dangling, afraid she might step away and leave me to crash to the ground.

All my solutions for this discomfort didn’t work, so I invited Jesus into my picture. He stood beside me and grabbed me when the teeter-totter plunged. Safe in His arms.

Amazing how our minds work. I’m 63 years old, and the cells of my body and brain still remember the sensation I felt at age 8. We human beings are walking messes of triggers!

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