Fear Addicts Anonymous

I am a believer in Jesus Christ who struggles with fear, and my name is Reagan.

Sometimes it’s hard not to let my fear shape my decisions.  My beliefs.  My perception of God, His will, everything.

When it comes to any decision more life-changing than do I want Chick-fil-A or City Bites for lunch? here's how the process normally goes:  I want to explore/make a decision, but I don’t feel total certainty or peace about it, and I’m not really sure if that’s what God wants anyway, and then I start believing He must not want that, because where’s the peace? but the thing really seems to make sense, and the door is wide open, and I know it would bring about good, glorifying-to-God things, and everyone who also loves Jesus is affirming it, and really all signs are a go except that peace, but I can’t pursue it because I’m not quite sure what the will of God is, so I wait and wait and the fear of making the wrong decision builds and builds until I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it and become convinced that I’m walking in disobedience by not choosing to walk away from it and I’m now inviting the discipline of the Divine.

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I made a decision once.

I had been wrestling with this particular choice for months, primarily for those reasons.  But I was ready to put my foot down and make a decision.  I wasn’t sure it was where God was leading me.  I sort of stopped asking Him (and other people) because I didn’t want to analyze it all anymore (or be told I was wrong).  I wanted to dive in “in faith”, hoping God would reward it if it was right and make it pretty clear if it was wrong.

I kept coming across things talking about how we let our past sabotage our future, define ourselves by our patterns, and those things weren’t okay.  Yeah!  That’s what I’ve been doing!  No more of this.  It’s a new day.  I want to start new and fresh.  I’m ready.  This must be a sign from the Lord.

I still wasn’t sure sure.  I feared that my feelings and confidence would falter once the decision was made.  That all the same junk would resurface, and that I was just having a particularly good day before.  But I still wanted to try.

So I made a decision.

The result?

No.  Not now.

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That’s the funny thing about making decisions.  Sometimes, the thing you choose after months and months of praying and over-analyzing doesn’t work out.

And that sucks.  A lot.

I wasn’t sure what to do with the pseudo-confidence I had before.  Or with the suffocating fear that had been prevalent for months, that fear I so often confused with the voice of God.  What was the truth?  Had He been saying no the whole time?  Did He say no this time to prepare me for a yes later?  Was that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach His voice?  Or was I creating that for myself out of a false belief about who He is?

But don’t forget, there’s always the Donald Miller approach of living a great story and "breaking down the door".  Was that the answer here?  Was the door being slammed in my face the will of God, or was it just a plain old closed door that could be opened a different way?  Was it supposed to present me with the opportunity to know what I actually wanted instead of floating around in la-la-I-don’t-know-anything land and motivate me to actually pursue it?

So there I stood, staring at the empty palms of my hands, thinking, What now?

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From what I’ve gathered from being alive, I’m not the only one who wrestles with this.

And that’s a really, really important truth to grasp.  Because way too often, I act as if I am.

No one else struggles with this the way I do.  I’m just being dumb and need to make up my mind.  Jesus will eventually make it clear; I don’t need to ask anyone else’s opinion.  Besides, everyone is sick of listening to me process through all this junk anyway.

The lies and the fear frolic around, hand in hand, and my paranoia of both disobedience and insignificance envelopes me in a toxic, lonely fog.

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It’s no wonder the most frequently given command in the Bible is “Do not fear.”  I mean, besides fearing God (not just the reverent kind) and anacondas, what good does freaking out really do?

But how do you give it up?

What the heck does it look like to trust in the Lord with all my heart? 

To not be anxious about anything?

To take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ?

I don’t have the formula for this.  I wish I did.  For myself, and for those that find themselves in the oscillating, never-ending cycle of fear and decision making.

But in the middle of my personal Crazy Land, I’ve been hearing God say things like this: Reagan!  Look!  See how I am in control and you are not.  See how much you can trust Me.  I’m taking care of you.  You are not lost.  You are not a failure.  And this is only the beginning.  I have so much for you.  I’ve got you.

What I know is that God is trustworthy.

What I know is that He is capable of accomplishing His purpose outside of our intentions.

What I know is that we were made to thrive in a community where we can be encouraged to keep fighting the good fight, finish the race, and keep the faith.

At the end of the day, that’s what it really comes down to.

I don’t have all the answers for my fellow fear addicts.  But I can extend the hand of someone who gets it.  You are not alone.  And together -- guided by the all-surpassing grace of the God who is our Shepherd -- we can probably work through some of that junk that would otherwise keep us from doing anything at all.

Because who can stay out of Crazy Land all by themselves?  Really?

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My People

The rain poured heavily outside as we sat cozily inside her kitchen.  A sharp contrast to the cold, dreary, wet outdoors, the room was warm and colorful, rich with an ambiance that simply made you feel at home.  As I relaxed comfortably at the table with my legs propped up on the chair in front of me, my friend spoke of her life’s goings on:  adjusting after transition, learning a new role, and moving into the future.  I soaked in each second, but I’m not sure how well I actually listened.  All I could do was look at my friend and grieve for the time to come – for what would no longer be the same.  Not just for her.  For all of us.

Over the past seven or so years, I’ve acquired a handful of “worlds” that have gifted me with some of my favorite people.  Olivet Nazarene University:  seven girls who went from college floormates, to college roommates, to real life best friends.  Anderson, IN:  people with whom I worked, lived, watched The Bachelor, and learned to be vulnerable.  The World Race:  those traipsed across the planet alongside me, saw me at my best and my worst, and encouraged me to just be.  And then all the “miscellaneous-es” who changed my life along the way.

It had been over a year since I had seen many of them; it felt like both yesterday and forever ago.  It wasn’t that hard to leave.  It was time.  But I also knew I would be coming back to visit “sometime after the Race,” so really, it wasn't like I would be gone for good.

After seemingly countless hours of car time, I finally made the roundtrip across the mid-eastern side of the country to find my people once again.

There has been a great deal of surprise and pain in my life over these last few weeks, and I found myself emotionally whoring myself out to these people, my people, who have deeply known my heart at one time or another.  We had shared stories of failed relationships.  We had held each other during heartache.  We had counseled each other through difficult decisions.  And we had simply listened when answers seemed elusive—an act that was often more significant than the answers themselves.  Confiding in them once again felt simultaneously refreshing and completely exhausting, and the retelling of the trials and tribulations never lessened the pain.  But there was a freedom there.  An affirmation that were meant for community, bearing one another’s burdens, and not navigating life on our own.  There is healing out in the open.  Out in the light.  Maybe it has something to do with being fully known and loved anyway.

Chalk writing on wall by Kylee

It’s times like these when I want to gather those I love into my arms and stick them into my bright blue Gregory Deva 70-liter backpack so I can take them with me wherever I go.  Some of them might have to share sides of the packing cubes, because honestly, I’m running out of compartments.

Who can say that they have even one community where they are always loved, accepted, and treated with utmost grace?

My heart aches with loneliness, loss.  But I know, too, that I can’t walk away without feeling unbelievably blessed.

Grace's Amazing Hands

Today isn't too unusual, as far as Wednesdays go. Except for the fact that I drank coffee in the morning. I usually don't drink coffee in the morning. I would rather be moved gently and soothingly into a state of wakefulness by a cup of hot tea, not punched in the face by a cup of coffee. But today I opted to be punched in the face, and I never looked back.

Photo found here.

This week has been marked by a beautiful state of acceptance. Acceptance of what was, is, and is to come. An acceptance that drives me to move forward and to do so with grace. It's nice to be friends with reality, for once.

I read a devotional yesterday that talked about seeing the big picture as a mountain. If we get too focused or discouraged by each individual cleft or foothold--however insurmountable they may seem--we forget the glory of the summit we are to overcome. Each hurt, habit, and hangup is only a stepping stone to the blessing to come; the fulfillment of the promise that "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Phil 1:6).

Photo found here.

I can honestly say that I'm really excited to see what God is going to do--for the glorious redemption of the ridiculousness of the present. I can feel something brewing. Maybe it was that coffee this morning (HA). Maybe it's a stirring in the innards of my soul. I don't know. I can see His fingerprints in so many different areas right now, and I know they will only become more apparent the more I keep my eyes open. I think the key is to always be looking.

In other news, and on a much less spiritual note, I will be making the long trek down to Oklahoma on Saturday. I'm starting to freak out a little bit, as I've never driven by myself for more than 5 hours. And this trip will be at least 12. So say a little prayer for me, if you remember. But I am really excited to be home for a week, despite the drive. It will be great to see everyone again. So, next time I update this, I'll probably be drinking a Sonic cream slush and putting a hurt on some Johnny's onion rings. Mmm.

Lost?

I feel like I only ever write when I'm frustrated with my life. Maybe that's the norm. I've spent most of the day alone, which is refreshing every once in awhile. I'm an introvert, so "being still" with myself/God/a book/seasons of LOST on DVD is my time to recharge. But it also gives me a lot of time to think.

Over this last month in Anderson, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I think a lot anyway, so that's not unusual. And I've met a lot of people here who try to help me think more clearly. And that really is a blessing. But I still feel as directionless/tired/ineffective as I have for the last year, and that's really frustrating. More than one person has told me that God has me in this (metaphorical) place for a reason. I'm a planner, so the only way for me to start to living by faith is to have my plan slowly and painfully pried from my aching fingers. And gosh darnit (I try to say cuss words only in my head), it is painful.

I've started attending Celebrate Recovery at The Bridge Community Church here in Anderson. It's a group of people who gather together for worship and a time of personal sharing. It's pretty neat to see people gather together and be real about who they are and what they're going through. As I have begun to share what's going on in my life, I have found that I live in a lot of fear and need to control. (This is as recurring theme in my posts, I've noticed.) And it's not like I'm afraid of dying. I'm afraid of the unknown. I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of walking into a situation without knowing the sequence of events and the outcome that will ensue. I'm afraid of starting something I shouldn't, or being unable to finish. I'm afraid of being passionate about something I'm no good at, or being good at something I'm not passionate about. I'm afraid of doing something, but I'm afraid of doing nothing. I live in the limbo of mediocrity because I refuse to do anything at all.

I don't want to live like that. And I haven't given up hope. I feel like God has placed certain passions on my heart, but I'm still discovering what those are. I haven't lost my drive to go out and "do stuff." I still want to serve God. I still want to impact lives. I still want to live outside of my own "self." But I am feeling overwhelmed with all that I desire to conquer and even discerning what the first step is.

Honestly, though, today was a good day. I witnessed other people serve and love just because. I sat on a swing in the rain, admiring a beautiful scene of fireflies and the twilight fading into darkness. I was real with God. And I ate cookie dough.

Maybe tomorrow all my deliberation will stop oil spills and save earthquake victims, but not today. And that's okay for now.

Better Days

Sometimes you just have those kinds of days. If you know what I mean, you know what I mean.

Those days when everything seems to go wrong.

Those days when you aren't really sure where God is.

Those days when you just aren't really feeling like yourself.

Just those "freaking out" kinds of days.

Yuck.

Here is my haiku in tribute to this less-than-awesome Tuesday.

Tuesday, you were dumb.

I said cuss words in my head.

Better tomorrow?

Praying for discernment and peace. Clinging to 2 Timothy 1:7 - "For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline." Hoping for the good kind of change. Mustering up the willingness to accept the bad with grace.

Jaded

Every now and then, I listen to sermon podcasts. Today, I listened to one by Matt Chandler, the head pastor of one of the Village Church campuses down in Texas. The message was entitled "A Change in Perspective." He talked about the idea found among many churchgoers that there is a sort of "sacred-secular divide" - that God is only concerned with things like church, theology, missions, etc., and that everything else (business, politics, agriculture, art, psychology, etc.) is only of concern to us humans. But Chandler refutes this idea with Scripture such as Genesis 1:28, known as the "cultural mandate": "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it..." He made men to be creators and doers and women to be their helpmates in those tasks. He created the world to function in a certain way, thereby demonstrating his interest and sovereignty over it. Isaiah 28 talks about how God designed agriculture to operate in a certain way; if it is done the wrong way, things won't grow. Romans 2:14-15 discusses how His Law is so prevalent that those who aren't even educated in it tend to live by it: "(Indeed, when Gentiles, who do not have the law, do by nature things required by the law, they are a law for themselves, even though they do not have the law, since they show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts now accusing, now even defending them.)" The entire book of Proverbs is itself a testament to the wisdom God has imparted to us concerning all things, not just the "sacred." Solomon wrote of wisdom in relation to business, right conduct, good manners, economics, war, etc. 2 Corinthians 10:5 speaks of taking "captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." Why shouldn't this include thoughts about education or art? Didn't God create those too? God is the God of everything! He delights in knowledge and beauty and physics. He created those things for us. He wants us to delight in them too.

I'll admit that I have found myself silently judging Christians who major in things like business or fashion or political science - things I wouldn't consider "holy." I have wondered these things about myself as well - was my failure to major in something like ministry or Biblical studies somehow displeased God? Is anything else worthwhile to Him? And I've let myself feel guilty about these kinds of things. I've let lies about God seep into my way of viewing and interacting with Him, turning Him into a frustrated, sighing, legalistic kind of God whose only wish is that I would stop screwing up more stuff. This view has manifested itself in the way I view and do my devotions, my perspective on the purpose of church, etc.

Slowly but surely, however, He is revealing Himself to me in new and profound ways - ways that are freeing rather than oppressive. God doesn't desire that we constantly struggle under the weight of conviction and worry about what He thinks or might do if we turn the wrong way. He wants us to delight in Him and the gifts He has given us. He wants us to use those gifts for His glory. He wants us to live in love and be thankful. And that's the kind of God I want to know better.

Dreams Be Dreams

Sometimes, I realize that I have weird expectations. For example, whenever I come home after being gone for a long time, and I walk into my room, I either expect or sincerely hope there will be some sort of surprise for me on my bed. I can't explain it. But I know my sister does the same thing. I think I'm usually looking for a letter or package. Or something my mom got for me at the store. Regardless of what I think it will be, I always get a little excited to walk in and turn on the light. Obviously, I'm almost always disappointed.

Another expectation of which I've recently become aware is that I will receive some new and previously hidden revelation from God, one that has never before been revealed to mankind in this present age. Not that I want to go start a new denomination or religion or anything, but I do find myself thinking that one day I will have a special epiphany. And I will feel closer to God than ever before. And I will be wise and legitimately able to impart my insight to others. And life will suddenly make sense.

I've "lived in the future" since I was a little kid. I particularly remember reflecting on the significance of important holidays or events, such as Christmas and the Olympics. I always thought, "By this time next [year/Christmas/winter Olympics], I will have [this] and will have done [this]. I will have [this] all figured out, and I won't have to worry about [this] anymore." Or I'll do the same thing with a certain future age. "By the time I'm [this] old, I will be awesome and have it all figured out. I will have arrived." It really isn't healthy. But I think I'm becoming better as I age (now that I have everything figured out, obviously). I was a senior in high school last winter Olympics. Now I'm a "senior" in college. It's crazy to ponder how much has changed since then and how much will change by the time I'm... wow, almost 26. Will I be married? Will I have 2.5 kids? Will I have a dog? Will I still be living at home? Ha. No, but seriously.

Lies and Fear Go Hand in Hand

So, I have to be honest. I really don't enjoy blogging. Actually, I really don't enjoy writing. I enjoy the action of copying and pasting all of my wisdom and insight into the blog box and then clicking the button at the bottom that says 'Publish Post.' I don't particularly enjoy editing that particular post 16 times before submitting the final draft, but it does give me a small sense of accomplishment to know that I have just exposed another part of my life and soul to the rest of the world. It's a little freeing, in a way. Being able to be held accountable for the things you say and think. Getting feedback, knowing other people are thinking the same things, or just the fact that other readers now know you a little better than they did 5 minutes ago... These are the things that make writing worth it. At least that's how I convince myself to keep it up.

Lately, I've been thinking about fear. It was the topic of Pastor Dave's sermon on Sunday, and we talked about it again at the college group gathering last night. Fear is something that, when embraced excessively (or obsessively?), leads to a lot of false perceptions and beliefs. These can be delusions about yourself, the danger, or God Himself. I've never really considered myself a 'fearful' person. I'm just realistic. Right?

Over the past few months, I've started to become afraid of more things. Some of this downward spiral has to do with graduating college and desperately searching for the next step. Some of it has to do with unfulfilled dreams and expectations. And some of it has to do with the rose-colored glasses I am slowly but surely learning to remove. One of my biggest fears right is that my life won't be meaningful. That I will be a wallflower forever. That the world will be no different after I am gone. That God will look at me and say, in the words of Francis Chan, "Wow, well done. Well done. You lived the safest life possible. You didn't slip. You didn't fall" (see the clip here). I don't want to live a life completely void of risk. I want to take chances and make mistakes. I want to witness the seemingly impossible. I don't want to bury my talents. I want to be sent out into the harvest field.

On the other hand, I'm fearful of failure. I don't want to try anything too crazy because I don't want to fail. I don't want to put my heart on the line because I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to say what I really think because I don't want to be criticized. When I want to make myself feel better about being wildly mediocre, I just compare myself to other people who are even more boring than I am. As if I'm trying to justify my wasted breath.

Sometimes I'm afraid of my ability to hear and understand God - that I'll misinterpret what He says to me. Other times, I'm just afraid I'll disappoint Him. Which isn't unusual, really. At other times, still, I'm afraid that God will ask me to do something I don't want to do. Like be homeless. Or eternally celibate. Or a customer service representative. Now, I know God isn't a big, mean bully who just loves to watch us squirm. But this fear is somewhat legitimate. Just think about Moses, when God asked him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Or Jesus, when God told him to give up his life. At the same time, though, it's key to remember that God will never move you out of your comfort zone without a greater purpose. He doesn't delight in our misery.

It's a vicious thing, fear. In a way, though, it compels us to flee stagnation. It keeps us from making careless choices. It makes us think about things like meaning and purpose and the character of God. The key is to find the balance. Clearly, I don't know exactly how that's done... But I can take comfort in the fact that God is bigger than my fears. My life is a small and seemingly insignificant blip in the span of eternity, and people have had bigger problems before I came along. And really, even if I screw up, God can work through that too. He won't waste an opportunity to teach me, even if it's in a little less comfortable of a way than I would have preferred.

God Put a Smile Upon Your Face

One of the biggest highlights of my life was the summer of 2009, when I spent over two months in Alaska volunteering as a counselor at Echo Ranch Bible Camp. I first heard about it at Olivet’s mission fair held in the fall of 2007, though I opted not to go the following summer. As the next year progressed, however, I couldn’t get Echo Ranch out of my mind. Wondering whether it was more than just a feeling, I decided to pray about whether I should go. About a week later, I got an e-mail from Jon-Michael Gwinnell—the guy in charge of recruiting—saying they were looking for counselors who would be willing to serve in the summer of 2009. I knew it was more than a coincidence. I printed out an application and had everything turned in before January.

I didn’t know exactly what to expect when I got to Alaska. I knew there would be more natural beauty that to what I had been accustomed, but I could not believe how much green they have there. If there aren't buildings, there are only forest, mountains, and ocean. It was incredible. I didn't even want to talk during the drive from the airport to camp because I just wanted to look around. The camp itself is literally situated in a forest. The beach is probably 150 yards or so from the dorm/dining hall, where we lived when we weren’t in the cabins with the campers. If you stood facing the bay, you could clearly see the mountains in front you, as if they just sprouted out of the ocean. Behind you was the forest, which encompassed the dorm, cabins, bathhouses, barn, and various other buildings of the camp.

As much as I loved the scenery, however, I loved the people and experiences even more. I stayed in a cabin with a different group of girls each week and witnessed several of them come to know Christ as their Savior. It was so humbling to be there for the moment their names were signed in the Book of Life. Through chapel messages, prayer, worship, devotions in the cabins, and love, I saw kids' eyes opened to Christ in a whole new way. Through seeing the innocence of their faith, hearing the stories of other counselors, and developing lasting relationships with other believers, my eyes were opened as well.

Of course, camp had its share of difficulties. There were times when I couldn’t answer every question a child had about God. There were times when I felt I was at the end of my rope—that I had no love or patience left. There were times when I felt exhausted and completely helpless, and all I could do what cry out to God to give me strength for each day and love for each child. I was always delighted (and surprised!) to see that when I finally surrendered a situation to Him, He would take over and do more than I ever could on my own. I was able to see all the things I knew about God—that He is faithful, loving, and attentive to our prayers—played out right in front of my eyes. It was as if my faith and spiritual knowledge were finally brought to life.

If you'd like to read more about my experience at Echo Ranch, click here.

I Don't Want to Miss a Thing

Well, here we are: another year down, and another year to make resolutions, fail at keeping them, and pick up the broken pieces to create new goals and ambitions we will try all the harder to maintain. This year, I have "resolved" to write. Maybe it's for my own good, or maybe it's for the inevitable enlightenment of others. We'll see.

I'm feeling excited about the future. Excited and apprehensive. And scared. But eager to see what's out there. I want to do big, crazy things for God. I want to see the world change. And I don't want to be on the sidelines when it happens. In the words of Don Miller, "No one gets to watch the parade."

I learned about the idea of 'story' from his book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. Each of us has our own story, but many of us choose to be spectators to the plot rather than participants. I've been a spectator for awhile, now. Sometimes I think about the end of my life, when I have passed to the other side. Do I want to stand before God to hear, "Well, good job. You played it as safe as possible. You never got into trouble, but you never accomplished anything either"?

I want to do something. I want to sow the seed of the Gospel among those who have never heard it. I want to make lives better because I lived. I want to be faithful with what I have been given.

I few days ago, I submitted an application through GoCorps to serve for two years in overseas missions. Today, I heard back from the director of Adventures in Missions (AIM). If I'm accepted, I'll be doing a compassion/justice mission to fight human trafficking in Thailand. The guy sent me his blog so I could get a feel for the kind of work they do. It's intense. It would be incredible to serve in such an exciting, scary, heartbreaking, hands-on way--to break out of my middle-class American bubble and actually get a taste of the pain of the world.

But what about when I come back? How will I have changed? How will everyone else have changed? What would it feel like to put my "normal" life on hold for two years? What would it feel like to truly understand how spoiled and selfish the existence to which I've become so accustomed?

But what if I don't go?

When it comes right down to it, I'm just praying that God opens and closes the right doors. I'll keep "just doing stuff" in the meantime. "Dream big, and watch God blow 'em up." (Mark Holcomb)

No matter what happens, it's going to be a good year.