Drafts on Unbraiding

You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.

Psalm 139:5

I’m feeling unbraided.

The strands of my life that hold me together have come, well, unbraided. My little world is unraveling strand by strand. Have you ever watched a well-worn sweater start to fray at the edges? You think, oh, look at that. I wonder what is going to happen? Do I need to do something or can I just ignore it?

It starts slow. Almost unnoticed, this unraveling. A little catch here, a twig that pulls at us. Maybe a relationship that is strained, a strange sound in the car engine. We think this will right itself. Then we get hooked on something more substantial like a gate latch, that actually yanks us back. We feel it. A fight with a spouse, a surprise bad review at work. We see a few strands of fabric come out.

I have this beautiful airy scarf that is swirls of yellows and blues. It is so delicate I can see through it, and subsequently, it is easily damaged. Large loops of thread pull out and I am startled and upset; immediately I drop everything and set to work pushing the strings back through, attempting to rethread them into place.

Why am I so quick to reweave this scarf and yet allow the sweater to slowly come undone?

The sweater is hardy. Thick yarn twisted together to protect me from the cold, where the scarf is purely ornamental. I have high expectations of the outerwear, it is meant to keep the chill out, take the brunt of what the world throws at me. I hope it will not allow the elements to seep through to the next layer. Yet, of the scarf, I have no such demands. Its sole job is to look pretty. It will not do any heavy lifting. A slight breeze will blow directly through its almost invisible form, like a net meant to allow sea life to keep swimming.

When my surface life unbraids, I’m often quick to react. I don’t want to appear unraveled, like a mussed French braid that makes me look like I’m losing it. I can pull my outside self together. Shove the toys and dirty laundry in a backroom. Shape my mouth into a smile. Swallow down the sadness or anger that is trying to work its way up. I pull the threads back in, rearranging my life to look pretty.

One day, we unshelve that old sweater. It’s getting cold. Life is getting harder. It’s more difficult to pretend we have it together. The pretty scarf isn’t really working anymore. It’s too delicate. It’s too airy. It is meant for good days when the sun is shining and we are meeting a friend to share good news like a new love or a business idea. The smile is real(?). But on dark days, in the middle of winter, we need this sweater.

I have ignored this sweater. Its problems. I completely forgot it was snagged and snarled, its edges coming undone. It has become unbraided. I don’t need the pretty scarf. I need the warm sweater. I have given all my attention to the ornamental and I have ignored the practical, the substance, the needs.

My life has frayed these last few weeks. The things I hold dear have dissipated in my hands. The touch stones in my life have sunk and I’m staring at a wide river to cross. My beautiful little house is sold. There is no stepping stone in place. Busyness has crowed out my writing. This website has fallen along the wayside. Relationships once easy have become strained. Places we frequented have changed. The things I have held onto to keep me above water have overflowed.

So. . . I put away the lovely scarf and I reach for the solid sweater. Yet, I have let it unravel. I have not kept my eye on it as I should. It is something to be monitored—like my faith. To be clear, not who my faith is in, but my faith, the part I’m responsible for. He, God, does not change! But faith is not given and then stored away for when the storms roll in, like the sweater in the closet. This is my mistake. I think the sun is out, I’m fine, this light-as-air scarf will be perfect. I tell myself that I don’t need to make sure my protective wear is in good order. It will be there when I need it.

But our faith can, and does, get caught and tugged and torn. When I get a tug on my faith, I must get out my Bible; I must search around in the linen closet for my neglected sewing kit and set to repairs. Reading the Word of God will rebraid the strands that have come loose.

I must deal with these rough thoughts left blowing in the wind.

Why is this hard thing happening to me? My faith begins to unwind.

Where is God? He could stop this? The unraveling continues unchecked.

God must not love me or care about me. I got caught on the gate latch.

When I read the living Word of God, it sets to fix the unraveling. The truth begins to knot the loose threads so they don’t lose their form.

Psalm 120:1 In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me. The Lord hears me. This rebuilds my faith.

Isaiah 26:3 You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. The Lord gives me peace when I seek Him. I am covered.

Isaiah 40:10 Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you in my righteous right hand. God fills in the holes in my faith.

I hear the truth through the Bible and I activate the peace it gives through my prayer life. The layers of my defense against a bad day, a bad season, a lifelong challenge are rebraided in my relationship with God. When I do the work in the spiritual realm through time in prayer, my soul is strengthened, the parts that have come undone are made whole again.

There is so often not a change in the physical (because that would not take faith); our faith is strengthened by being woven with truth and the peace of the Holy Spirit. The Bible teaches that a three cord strand is not easily broken. A braid has strength. Ecclesiastes 4:12b ”…A threefold cord is not quickly broken.”

Are you trying to get through life in a thin scarf?

Perhaps you are feeling the damp cold of uncertainty and doubt seeping in?

Have you let your faith come undone?

Is there a hole in your protective layer?

Don’t despair. Faith can be rebraided. Pull in strands of truth, prayer and the Word to strengthen your faith. Keep pulling those threads tight. The Holy Spirit is the Author and Finisher of your faith. Ask the Lord to strengthen your belief so you can withstand the bitter trials with a peace that passes all understanding (because it’s supernatural). This faith and peace has nothing to do with the outside, but what is in our souls; the warmth of God’s love and the promise of eternity where faith will not be necessary because we will be with The Lord.

Our trials of faith are but temporary, but we need a good sweater for these seasons.

Drafts on Ebb Tide

Change is a constant companion in our lives. Like the ebb tide of the waves, the new washes up and the old is swept away. It is relentless. When we are young, this feels slow, as if we will be children forever; remember when summer felt like it would go on forever? One sandy beach day disappeared into the next, marked by dripping popsicles in the hot sun and counting fireflies in the evenings. I never once thought about change on those long carefree days. But change was always there, with me, even when I was unaware. Now as a middling adult, I’m keenly aware of change and the passage of time. My childhood seems a lifetime ago. The changes I have gone through are staggering. The hardships and the growth that followed has formed me into an entirely different person.

As I write, I’m perched at the window bar of a coffee shop and my view consists of blowing leaves and pumpkins on hay bales: it is autumn. This is my favorite season. I identify with its many layers—a clear sun followed by unexpected clouds, cold rain and gusty winds. I have often wondered what our favorite seasons say about us. Fall is a time of change, cooling temps, tall boots and burnt orange sweaters, The days are short, but bright. It is the last brilliant moment before the world resets with a long sweep of cleansing cold, unforgiving air. It is change wrapped around me like a scarf, held in my hands like hot apple cider.

The older I get the more I realize that change is part of the game; it’s not going away. I’m constantly growing and learning. And in that growth, I must face the fact that there needs to be growth, because I’m still not there yet. I see this in my marriage. After 15 years together, we are still figuring it out. Our partnership, all and all, is fairly smooth, but then last weekend we had a fight about a juicer. Yup, a juicer! So guess there is still room for growth there, or at least a glass of carrot juice.

Parenting is arguably the biggest vehicle of growth around. Having a baby is like an instant death to your old self and born in its place is this soft squishy person who cares about bizarre things like the shape of pacifier nipples and who keeps a journal of wet diapers. Who is this person? And in a way you relive your childhood all over again with all the great things, like reading Make Way for Ducklings, but also all the hard things, like when your first fish dies (R.I.P. blue beta fish). And you change. . . you are a parent to a baby and then a toddler and then suddenly the baby is driving. And while you were fine to drive at 16, surely that cannot be true today!

Twisting in the Waves

Change also comes in the form of hardships. Tragedies like divorce, loss or severed relationships that can close off parts of us until they shrivel up and die. We can’t even access that part of our heart anymore. Maybe you have lost someone or perhaps your marriage feels like far more of a struggle than it’s worth, a needy child is chipping away at you and there is no time for anything you enjoy. The grind of life . . . has well. . . ground you up. Those long easy days of summer are a distant memory that play in your head like a movie you watched once. Ten-year-old you would never recognize your life now. Your dream journal seems completely unrealistic. Obviously, you are never going to work for SeaWorld at this point (although, the Blackfish documentary really finished off that dream).

Blackfish aside, I don’t know where you are at today. Perhaps life has come up roses with a few thorns or perhaps it’s thistles with a few flowering weeds. Life is always in motion, the waves are always reaching for us, trying to push us forward or pull us back. Sometimes there is little we can do about our circumstances. My childhood was punctuated with tragedy, there were long summer days and nights on the porch counting fireflies, but storms blew in unexpectedly. Loss and tragedy are big part of my identity. Of who I am. They shaped me young into twisty ways that are taking a lifetime to untangle. But I’m working on it.

The enemy has spent years whispering in my tender ear that this is who I am. That these knots cannot be untangled. The blood supply has been cut off and growth cannot take place. And you know what? In many ways it’s easier to let these areas lie dormant. I’m strangely comfortable in it. Like when your foot falls asleep and you are unaware until you try to move it and as blood flows back into those veins, it is painful. As I have reopened some of my past, it too, is painful; but I no longer want to be pushed into a shape that God did not intend for me.

So I look back at things that happened to me and I start to look at it all through the eyes of the Lord. Sure, He can use these things and He absolutely does, but also He does not want me to be bound up in my losses, my hurts, my disappointments.

When the waves reach for me, I start to sink in the quicksand of my emotions, being sucked under by the past. Bound—unable to swim; sinking into depression and despair. At times, the Lord sends others to swim along side of me to encourage me to keep swimming; but more so, Jesus Christ, my Savior, wants to see me unbound, free to swim over the surface of what tries to pull me down.

Learning to swim

He will Walk on Water

When our minds turn to depression/anger/bitterness/ apathy, we start to feel the weight of our past, our pain, the things that haven’t worked out. It’s too heavy, we are tempted to stop swimming and just sink. We look away from God and we start to go under. We are trying to swim with broken legs and twisted arms. If we are standing on the beach and we see our child or a friend struggling in the water, would we not rush out to help them? Of course! And God our Father does the same. If we cry out, He will walk on water to save us from sinking. But more so then save us from drowning this one time, He wants to teach us to keep our eyes on Him so we don’t sink; showing us how to navigate rough waters, to swim because He knows storms will arise often in our lives. While I want Him to remove me out of the water altogether and put me up on dry land, He knows the world we live in and that it will never stop trying to pull us out to the depths. In John 16:33, Jesus says, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

The waves will roll over my head, the enemy will try to convince me to stop swimming. But the Lord, the Lord Almighty will teach me to swim. The Holy Spirit will buoy me, the Great Physician will heal me, the power of Christ will strengthen me. We will face my crippling hurts together and He will breathe new life into the dead parts of my soul. He will unshackle the weights the enemy has chained to my limbs, and teach me to use them again. I will keep my eyes ever on Him—reading His word to renew my mind and speaking His truth to my hurting spirit. I pray in the power that changes things, changes me; I try (in His power) to cast off the old weights and get my stride. It does not come easy, it is work. I’m fighting the current. But the more I immerse myself in the things of the Lord, the stronger I become. I can only write about this because I have lived it. I have been bound up and I have been set free. Matthew 11:28 says: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest! “ The ebb tide will never stop, but the difference now is that (in Him) I can navigate the rough waters—I can swim..

In what ways is the ebb trying to take you out? How are your limbs bound up?

What would it look if you let the Lord unwind the areas in your life that are twisted up?

Are you being called to help someone else learn to swim?