Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Never take a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night

NO I didn't try it. That's a chapter title out of Karen Linamen's book "Due to Rising Energy Costs, the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been Turned Off." I've read several of Karen's books and always enjoyed them. I picked up this one and was interested to find that she is also a single mom of two. Like me!

Anyway, this chapter was profound. I know you are dying to know how I got anything profound out of that title, so stay with me.

In the midst of pain, a bad situation, or grief of any kind. It's not unusual for people to reach for something completely wrong as a solution, even if a temporary solution, to ease the pain. Now, I'VE never done this, but SOME people might, finding themselves hurting and rejected and alone, pick up a bag of Double Stuf Oreos and consume nearly all of it. How bout THAT for a pick-me-up? Except it doesn't pick me, um... I mean that person whoever they might be, up. It only makes things worse. It's as silly as taking a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night.

That's crazy. But we do it all the time. Instead of facing the pain, dealing with the grief, or walking the hard road, we often create a whole new problem as a diversion. Except then we find ourselves with pain multiplied instead of pain lessened. Why? Why do we do this to ourselves?

I have a couple of theories.

One comes out of the same chapter in Karen's book. There is a subtitle that says, "Please don't hurt me... let ME do it." I have to wonder if sometimes our propensity for those quick, yet devastating distractions from our pain stems from some deep assumption that we'll never amount to anything better anyway. So why not have that drink or two to take the edge off? Who cares anymore, anyway? Why not eat myself into a sugar coma? I don't deserve to be healthy anyway. Truth be told, it's HARD to take the high road. And it takes some amount of self esteem and determination to demand nothing less than God's best for myself.

The other theory is that we don't exercise faith. Now, don't go thinking I'm a name it and claim it girl. No way. My God isn't an order taker at a heavenly drive thru window. He's so much bigger than that. I wouldn't be caught dead saying that someone's painful circumstance is due to a lack of faith on his or her part. Hear me out... today I read in Psalm 105:19 "Until the time came to fulfill his dreams, the Lord tested Joseph's character." This verse is referencing Joseph's experience (start in Genesis 37 and read through the end of the book if you aren't familiar) with the time he spent in slavery and prison, before he was snatched out of prison, appointed as VP of Egypt and recognized for the amazing guy he was. During his prison and slavery years, God tested his character.

I can identify. I feel as though there are dreams out there. I can even see some of them on the horizon. But right now, I'm in the holding cell of character testing. Can I trust God the same in the dark as I can in the light? Can I remain committed and faithful to Him and to what He has called me to be, even when sometimes I'd like to forget the character test and just take the easy way out for Pete's sake?

Well, perhaps I can. But in order to do so, I must get out my faith, dust it off, and put it into play in my life. I must put it on, wear it, use it. If faith is the substance of things I hope for, then I must practice that faith by living as though the dreams I hope for are reality. For example, if I truly believe that full time ministry (a dream God and I have) is coming for me one day, then I don't have time to get addicted to anything, even something that seems to mask my pain. Problem is, when that quick fix is calling, and the dream fades into the background, it takes actual usage of my faith in order to maintain the character needed to stay on the track. It's one thing to say I have faith, sing about it, or study on it; but another thing entirely to PRACTICE it.

I totally stink at the game of tennis. I once tried to play it and I was horrible. It's one thing to know the game, read about it, watch it on TV, try on cute little white skirts or whatever. But actually getting out there to play is a totally different matter. I don't want to play nearly as badly as I want to stand around looking too cute in a little white skirt-y thing, with Reeboks at the end of my lovely tanned legs. (Are you cracking up yet?) To play you have to run around and sweat. You might miss the ball and make a fool of yourself. Not anywhere near as glamorous, right?

Same goes for my faith. I think I often create unhealthy diversions to mask the pain of my problems because I am too scared to get out there on the court of my faith and take the risk of running around and sweating and maybe missing a shot or two. It's hard to live in the substance of things I hope for. It's much easier to live in a tangible, even if unhealthy, solution of my own making.

But what if I could do it? What if I got out there on the court of faith, and won the game? What if I ran around, got sweaty, missed a shot or two, but stayed in the game and actually won? IT WOULD BE WORTH IT, that's what!!! It would be worth it to come out victorious with character intact, making my Father God proud. Loving Him back for all I'm worth by LIVING like I BELIEVE Him.

Whew! This post is getting long. Perhaps I should have made it a series. Or perhaps I'm not making any sense to you at all. But hey... at least you'll think twice before reaching for the Milk of Magnesia AND the Tylenol PM.

3 comments:

frabjouspoet said...

How funny...we don't like getting sweaty, but isn't that the simplest measure of whether or not our "exercise" is working?

You hit the nail on the head here. I love the tennis court illustration!

Christy said...

I laughed out loud at that chapter title!
And....this is some of your best writing in a long time :)

frabjouspoet said...

Okay, so last night when I REALLY wanted to make some buttercream frosting to eat right out of the bowl, I thought of this chapter title. It stopped me in my tracks.