Dusting off that Shield

Every once in awhile, I succumb to this self-hate spiral, and almost anything - even the most insignificant things - can set it off.

This morning it was having to throw away spoiled food I found in the back of our fridge.

And then thoughts like this start to circulate:

I hate throwing away food, it feels like I just threw away money. Why did we eat out last night? Oh right, because I was too tired to cook. And take out food is so unhealthy. I am going to give my whole family cancer from processed take-out food because I am too lazy to cook dinner. I can't believe I'm making this big of a deal about throwing away food. There's pain in the world that I can't even imagine and I'm letting something that I'm sure happens to everyone drive me crazy. But does it happen to everyone? I'm pretty sure all my friends never have to waste food like this - and if they eat out it's because they're changing lives for Jesus and doing other super-woman type things. 

Anyone else? Just me, then?

During Z's two-hour afternoon nap (glory, hallelujah) I was talking to God about how stupid I felt for letting something like throwing away food send me into a whirl of thoughts about myself that were completely negative. 

And then this verse popped into my head: 

"...in addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one." Ephesians 6.16

Here's the thing, I like to think of myself as a very deep and spiritual and mature person.

But truthfully, I am a person who struggles to even believe that she doesn't have to do everything right to make God love her. And by everything, I mean [[everything]] - like not letting food spoil. 

Man, Christina, that sounds exhausting... and possibly a bit dramatic? 

It is exhausting, and often dramatic; but really, there's deeper issues there that aren't so dramatic as they are damaging if left unattended.

Because maybe the arrow is made of spoiled food or a dirty bathroom or misspoken words, but the fire that they burn with is generally made of such stuff as:

Not enough.
Failure.
You'll be left alone if you keep messing up. 

On days like today - the hard days - rather than picking up my shield I allow myself to be pelted by these arrows of condemnation, and let me tell you, it's not so much the arrow wounds but the fire that will leave scars. 

So I stopped telling God what a terrible person I was and asked Him: If this shield I'm supposed to be bearing against those arrows is made of faith, and it's all too often left laying at my feet, what am I missing?  

And then I listened, and God spoke.

In that way He does sometimes, when it's not really like speaking as much as Him just... being, because God has this way of answering a lot of questions by giving the fullness of His presence. And it sort of feels like He just passed by and along with a room full of peace, left a sentence or two on my heart.

I love you, Christina. 
Have faith in that. 

And it seems to me, that's the kind of shield worth carrying. 

Holding

I long for the sweet moments when Z finally stops moving long enough to settle his head against my chest and rest. 

Sometimes, I long to make this heart & soul & body stop moving long enough to lay my head against my God, and rest. 

And I have to remind myself that Z is still so new at being in this world, because it feels like he's been here always. And wouldn't being new require a lot of moving and wrestling through some tough things, like figuring out how to crawl? 

And then comes the self-reminding, that I'm still so new at being in this world but not of it, all eternal things considered. And doesn't this newness come with it's own set of things to wrestle through?

Even if it means the holding looks like wrestling, I delight in having Z in my arms. 

Even if it means the holding looks like wrestling, maybe God feels the same about me? 

Because really, if I'm in His arms it means I am His. 

It is really inconceivable to think that God's arms do not tire like my arms tire of wrestle-holding twenty-one pounds of adorable, but heavy, baby-chunk. 

Though I can't wrap my mind around how God never tires of wrestle-holding me, I am so thankful for it. 

Why I Ask Questions

At first, the process of working through tough questions about the Christian faith frustrated me - the back & forth, the complexity, the hard truth that there is no quick answer.

For example, a big one for me is gender roles within the church, this issue is revisited ever-so-often in my head. Most times the waters are too muddy to come to any definite conclusions; and so, after wrestling for a few weeks and maybe clicking one or two of the pieces into place, I table it for next year.

Now I see the beauty in this process.

It will be comforting, if and when I come to a conclusion, to realize it is one that has had time to prove itself wrong.

One that is fed by more prayer & Bible study than can fit into a few hours & the wisdom and council of those who's walk with Christ has been tested and proved faithful much more than mine. 

I've come to find that rarely do I wrestle through an issue that is solely theological (or political, or logical, or philosophical for that matter). More often than not insecurities and flaws are neatly wrapped up in my paradigms & interpretations of the Bible. 

However, running into my insecurities & flaws when wrestling through questions I have about my faith no longer discourages me, because God has met me there.

The Arena of Questions, where I often battled myself & others, is where God brought the deep healing I needed.

And it seems, when entering this arena, in particular, the only armor I can wear is that of God, and not of my own hubris.

A helmet, a breastplate, a shield, a belt, shoes, and a sword.

Salvation, righteousness, faith, truth, the Gospel of peace, and the Spirit.

These are what I'm called to carry when I seek truth.

I remind myself that if I don't approach tough questions with humility, properly outfitted in the armor of God, I risk bringing injury to myself or others. I risk not being equipped to block the arrows of deception, of pride, of anger.

But when I do approach with humility, sometimes I can see God holding His breath, thinking, "Yes, dearest, that one... ask that one! I can't wait to answer you."

Life always comes from the asking when we ask & listen to His words.

His Word has always, always brought life.

That's why I ask questions.