Dealing With Despair

According to those very smart, very funny Nagoski sisters, our bodies are super smart. Part of us (they call it the Monitor) understands what our goals are, how much effort we are investing in that goal and how much progress we're making.

My Monitor understood during the pandemic that my goal (to help my community survive a pandemic without losing our collective minds) was requiring extreme effort (the things that foster community were not always possible in a lockdown) and we were not making progress (I am called lazy because I cannot figure out how to create a church environment "like the old days"). This blew all my circuits.

Despair, stress on steroids, became my friend - albeit an unwelcome guest. My pit of despair felt deep and wide. Despite what my Monitor was saying, I also have these core values that continually compel me to do things that my Monitor thinks is crazy. Like refuse to give up.

But I needed more support if I was going to get through this battle. How about you? Have you ever been at the end of your rope?

Tomorrow will be different

In Richmond, we say if you do not like the weather, wait a day because it will surely change. This is good soul care advice too. I suspect we all find greater equanimity and peace when we realize that our highs and lows and in-betweens shift and morph and change. The mountain top experiences are lovely but temporary; as are the deep valleys of despair.

Whether I find myself up high or way down low, I remember this:

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.

Psalm 30:11, 12 NIV

My own view of life is shifting. It helps me, and I hope it is helpful for you too, to know that there is ALWAYS the possibility that God will gift us with singing hearts and joy. When I ran away from home that Spring Break oh so many years ago, I finished my quiet time and strapped on my boots. I went for a long hike. I RESOLVED to choose to believe that my wailing was valid but not permanent. I went looking for joy; I’ve practiced the discipline of joy for so long now that most days I find her.

As I write this, I am at NSC and we are readying ourselves for our Saturday night service. I’m a voyeur as the band practices their set list. I listen as they discuss and choose and wrangle over chord progressions. I am reminded how hard they work to sing and play for us and in this I recognize the joy. They practice; they prepare. Tonight, the music will pour out. It will be a sacrificial offering. And I am lucky enough to know what that costs them and the joy they receive from the offering. Joy is a beautiful contagious lover of God and his people.

One final thought on joy; I cannot find her in isolation. All my joy stories revolve around others. I do not know what this means, only that it is true for me. Where do you find joy? Are you looking for her like a jealous lover?

Hope and despair

Once, many years ago, I was in a despair the likes of which I could not shake. Scott was at Va. Tech in school; Meredith was far away working; Pete was out of town. Michael was in high school and on Spring Break. I needed hope so desperately and my skin, my being, could not stay at home and go to work one more day in such a state of hopelessness.

I asked Michael if he would agree to a road trip, and he was kind enough to oblige. We threw some stuff in a bag and headed west. I dropped Michael off at Scott’s apartment in Blacksburg for a guys’ night, and I went to a local hotel. It was nothing special but this is what you get in Blacksburg with no notice.

That night I was in bed as soon as I got to the room; I woke early the next morning, went out to get coffee and a breakfast sandwich and returned to the solitude of the rented room. I transferred the steaming coffee into my favorite mug and retrieved my quiet time materials. Then I sat. I just sat. I reminded myself that I sit because there is a God and I am not him. I sit to honor his presence, without expecting to hear his voice. It is enough to sit. I sat until I could bear to listen. Then I opened my tattered copy of “Rooted In God’s Love” and turned to the next entry, finding this prayer from Dale and Juanita Ryan:

Lord of joy,

Lord of celebration,

open my heart to the possibility of joy today.

Help me to tolerate the confusion

that comes when sorrow and joy live side by side in my heart.

Give me the courage to

joyfully celebrate life.

Amen

Without a lot of fanfare, my mind opened to a new way of seeing - unbidden and undeserved - hope showed up in the nick of time. I saw how my day-to-day activities often created the illusion that life was more sorrow than joy. As my vision “corrected,” I grabbed my journal and out flowed the joy. The moment I turned and looked at my boys the previous evening, so glad to be together with game controllers in hand. The beauty of the coming Spring evident in the Virginia mountains that I so deeply love. On and on my joy poured out on the pages of my notebook. None of this was news to me, but it had ALL been forgotten. I was bogged down in confusion and sorrow, missing the joy that lived side by side in my heart.

So my friend, as we work to “get it right” - which is a good thing, we must find time to connect to our joy. We sit and wait on the Lord to give us the gift of hope - a gift that comes with no strings. But we also “get it right” as we take time to rightly remember. Look for the joy. Sorrow is a needy beast always yapping at our heels for our attention. Joy is far kinder and more polite. She waits for us to notice her, sitting patiently, eager to connect with us. Friends - find the joy! Then spread it around all willy nilly!

Success and transformation: It takes a while.

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It can take a lifetime to make a very small amount of progress living into our God-given identity.  Becoming a successful person means being willing to step out on a limb to simply try to accept this "new" self.  It's an act of great courage- because our failures will give rise to doubts. 

Are my efforts inauthentic?  Am I really trying?  Nobody is worse at submitting to God than I am.  Does God love me?  I'm too far gone.  There is no hope for me.  Have I rejected his love?  Will he accept me back? 

The courage comes in facing those questions head-on and pushing forward with our call to love ourselves, God, and others.  We will fail.  And yet, we proceed.  Proceeding is our call.  And it is an act of hope, particularly when are in the midst of despair.