If you're depressed or ill or unhealthy and you're reading this, let this be an encouragement that you will not always be depressed or ill or unhealthy. Do not listen to others' joy as if they're rubbing it in your face; listen as a picture of what you will experience someday.
If you're not depressed or ill or unhealthy, let this be a reminder to praise God for your mental and physical health and never take it for granted! That cliche has been my song for the past few weeks, and I hope I never forget where I've been!
I have a story to tell you.
Last February, in the heart of my depression, Joe and I decided to join a gym, partly in hopes that exercise would cure my lethargy. I quickly discovered just how weak I was - five minutes of running, and my heart rate was at 185. My workouts were childlike in comparison with most people's, yet I always had to rest in my car before I had the energy to even drive home and take a shower.
I started doing elliptical because running hurt my ankles. I went to the gym often for a few months, with the sole goal of building my endurance. I finally got up to my goal, which was to do the elliptical for 30 minutes. During that time I usually did about 2.5 miles.
Well, we stopped working out when we moved. Not an excuse - just saying, that's what happened. And two weeks ago I went back. I was so worried that I would be sore, that I would overdo it, that I would discourage myself, so I only did 15 minutes on the elliptical. I came back two days later and did another 15 minutes.
Then this last week, I had a conversation with Janae (friend extraordinaire and forever my maid of honor) about faith over fear. She told me I should take it easy at the gym. But I took her words about faith to heart. And I did the elliptical nonstop for an HOUR!
I thought maybe it was a one time thing, borne of the adrenaline of accomplishing a one-time goal. But I did it again two days later, and did it again today.
This is my point: It took me two months of depressed workouts to accomplish half of what I did in two weeks of non-depressed workouts. And the whole two months, I honestly thought I was being lazy, that I just didn't know how to push myself like other people did. So I pushed myself until I ran out of energy and motivation for anything: cooking, cleaning, or working out.
When I was depressed, I had to be careful about when I did or didn't push myself. Often, pushing myself meant walking right into an anxiety attack and an evening of terror. But if I didn't push myself, then I would say I was being lazy (and sometimes I'm sure I was!) But when you're depressed you're not a good judge of your own ability. So after too many fails, you just shut down.
Not being depressed anymore is awesome! But I'm still getting used to it. I said in an earlier post that I was learning to break bad habits. Really, I'm learning that I don't have to tiptoe around my brain, trying not to awaken the anxiety monster. If I need to clean the kitchen and I don't really feel like doing it, I can push myself and do it anyway, and I will feel better afterward, not worse!
Accountability
I remember hearing about the importance of having an accountability partner - that is, a person who holds you spiritually accountable. I think I tried it with multiple people, but it was never a resolution borne of need. It was always, "The pastor says we should have an accountability partner, will you be mine?" And then we'd try to remember to ask the other person, "Did you pray today?"
The problem with my method was, I didn't really care if my partner prayed or not. I thought accountability was a good thing, but not necessary. I also thought "spiritual" questions were only "Did you read the Bible today" and "Did you pray today." I have to admit, those can be pretty boring questions. And when asked out of a sense of duty, they don't inspire truthful answers (and eventually the asker will get tired and stop asking).
I was honored when a friend asked me to be her accountability partner this week. And this woman is recognizing the lies I still tell myself! I did ask her to hold me accountable for talking to Jesus (more about that in the next paragraph). I confessed to her yesterday, "I haven't spent time with Jesus today" and she was like "Um, the day isn't over yet..." I thought I had already failed. I had resigned myself to confessing a sin instead of doing something about it!
About why I have trouble talking to Jesus: I confessed this to you a while ago, but I want to dig deeper into the thoughts that had me afraid to talk to him.
My first mistake was satisfaction with my spiritual life. Honestly, for years I have attended church, memorized Scripture, prayed in groups of people, raised my hands for particularly powerful worship songs, and heck - attended one Bible college and one Christian college! I confess my sins on a public blog, attend a Bible study and do my Bible study homework, pray before every meal (except breakfast sometimes), and crave deep spiritual connections with other women. How much more spiritual can you get? Not much, I thought, which is why I never addressed a small thing I neglected: I never prayed. Not by myself, anyway.
See, I admit it, I'm an awesome corporate pray-er. I'm the one that volunteers to bless the food, or the one that says "Hey girls, let's pray for ___ right now." I lead out fervently, emotionally. I'm not a monotone pray-er. Even the most stoic Presbyterian can't help but murmur an "amen" under her breath when I pray.
And I have to tell you the truth: The worship I did in church, the hymns I played on piano, the deep spiritual discussions I had with other women - those all were parts of prayer, and they did satisfy my spiritual need. I never really thought I had to spend time alone with God, praying. And honestly, I didn't have to. I was fulfilled, I was satisfied. I had everything I needed: the support group of friends and family, the Christian doctrine to speak truth to me, tons of resources.
Plus, depression had me afraid to be alone in my head. This is why I always watched TV shows, played computer games, or slept: to escape my own mind. Talking with Jesus was too much like talking to myself, and that always ended with anxiety. It also didn't help that God often felt so distant in my depression, I couldn't convince myself I was reaching him.
I'm well now. And I've been convicted. I've been praying now, and I realize why I am supposed to spend time with Jesus now: It's not always so I can be fulfilled. It's because Jesus longs for me to talk with him. It's the least I can do for this Lord who has given me the aforementioned support, and now who has given me undeserved health. He loves to see me praise him at church, but I think he loves it even more when I praise him privately for specific things.
I'm sure Joe likes it when I tell people "I love being married" and "Joe's a great husband" or even say "Joe, you're very kind to me and I love you." But I bet he likes it more when I say "Joe, when you did the dishes tonight without me even asking, that showed me you loved me. I mean, I knew you loved me, but you showed it in such a tangible way. I was really touched."
God made us in his image. He enjoys his well-deserved worship and praise just as much as we do for much smaller things. I don't know about you, but when I worship in a corporate setting, my mind is in a more general place of worship. I thank God, but I thank him for his love and mercy and stuff. When I'm alone, I thank God for bringing me to a place where I could do an hour on the elliptical.
If you're not depressed or ill or unhealthy, let this be a reminder to praise God for your mental and physical health and never take it for granted! That cliche has been my song for the past few weeks, and I hope I never forget where I've been!
I have a story to tell you.
Last February, in the heart of my depression, Joe and I decided to join a gym, partly in hopes that exercise would cure my lethargy. I quickly discovered just how weak I was - five minutes of running, and my heart rate was at 185. My workouts were childlike in comparison with most people's, yet I always had to rest in my car before I had the energy to even drive home and take a shower.
I started doing elliptical because running hurt my ankles. I went to the gym often for a few months, with the sole goal of building my endurance. I finally got up to my goal, which was to do the elliptical for 30 minutes. During that time I usually did about 2.5 miles.
Well, we stopped working out when we moved. Not an excuse - just saying, that's what happened. And two weeks ago I went back. I was so worried that I would be sore, that I would overdo it, that I would discourage myself, so I only did 15 minutes on the elliptical. I came back two days later and did another 15 minutes.
Then this last week, I had a conversation with Janae (friend extraordinaire and forever my maid of honor) about faith over fear. She told me I should take it easy at the gym. But I took her words about faith to heart. And I did the elliptical nonstop for an HOUR!
I thought maybe it was a one time thing, borne of the adrenaline of accomplishing a one-time goal. But I did it again two days later, and did it again today.
This is my point: It took me two months of depressed workouts to accomplish half of what I did in two weeks of non-depressed workouts. And the whole two months, I honestly thought I was being lazy, that I just didn't know how to push myself like other people did. So I pushed myself until I ran out of energy and motivation for anything: cooking, cleaning, or working out.
When I was depressed, I had to be careful about when I did or didn't push myself. Often, pushing myself meant walking right into an anxiety attack and an evening of terror. But if I didn't push myself, then I would say I was being lazy (and sometimes I'm sure I was!) But when you're depressed you're not a good judge of your own ability. So after too many fails, you just shut down.
Not being depressed anymore is awesome! But I'm still getting used to it. I said in an earlier post that I was learning to break bad habits. Really, I'm learning that I don't have to tiptoe around my brain, trying not to awaken the anxiety monster. If I need to clean the kitchen and I don't really feel like doing it, I can push myself and do it anyway, and I will feel better afterward, not worse!
Accountability
I remember hearing about the importance of having an accountability partner - that is, a person who holds you spiritually accountable. I think I tried it with multiple people, but it was never a resolution borne of need. It was always, "The pastor says we should have an accountability partner, will you be mine?" And then we'd try to remember to ask the other person, "Did you pray today?"
The problem with my method was, I didn't really care if my partner prayed or not. I thought accountability was a good thing, but not necessary. I also thought "spiritual" questions were only "Did you read the Bible today" and "Did you pray today." I have to admit, those can be pretty boring questions. And when asked out of a sense of duty, they don't inspire truthful answers (and eventually the asker will get tired and stop asking).
I was honored when a friend asked me to be her accountability partner this week. And this woman is recognizing the lies I still tell myself! I did ask her to hold me accountable for talking to Jesus (more about that in the next paragraph). I confessed to her yesterday, "I haven't spent time with Jesus today" and she was like "Um, the day isn't over yet..." I thought I had already failed. I had resigned myself to confessing a sin instead of doing something about it!
About why I have trouble talking to Jesus: I confessed this to you a while ago, but I want to dig deeper into the thoughts that had me afraid to talk to him.
My first mistake was satisfaction with my spiritual life. Honestly, for years I have attended church, memorized Scripture, prayed in groups of people, raised my hands for particularly powerful worship songs, and heck - attended one Bible college and one Christian college! I confess my sins on a public blog, attend a Bible study and do my Bible study homework, pray before every meal (except breakfast sometimes), and crave deep spiritual connections with other women. How much more spiritual can you get? Not much, I thought, which is why I never addressed a small thing I neglected: I never prayed. Not by myself, anyway.
See, I admit it, I'm an awesome corporate pray-er. I'm the one that volunteers to bless the food, or the one that says "Hey girls, let's pray for ___ right now." I lead out fervently, emotionally. I'm not a monotone pray-er. Even the most stoic Presbyterian can't help but murmur an "amen" under her breath when I pray.
And I have to tell you the truth: The worship I did in church, the hymns I played on piano, the deep spiritual discussions I had with other women - those all were parts of prayer, and they did satisfy my spiritual need. I never really thought I had to spend time alone with God, praying. And honestly, I didn't have to. I was fulfilled, I was satisfied. I had everything I needed: the support group of friends and family, the Christian doctrine to speak truth to me, tons of resources.
Plus, depression had me afraid to be alone in my head. This is why I always watched TV shows, played computer games, or slept: to escape my own mind. Talking with Jesus was too much like talking to myself, and that always ended with anxiety. It also didn't help that God often felt so distant in my depression, I couldn't convince myself I was reaching him.
I'm well now. And I've been convicted. I've been praying now, and I realize why I am supposed to spend time with Jesus now: It's not always so I can be fulfilled. It's because Jesus longs for me to talk with him. It's the least I can do for this Lord who has given me the aforementioned support, and now who has given me undeserved health. He loves to see me praise him at church, but I think he loves it even more when I praise him privately for specific things.
I'm sure Joe likes it when I tell people "I love being married" and "Joe's a great husband" or even say "Joe, you're very kind to me and I love you." But I bet he likes it more when I say "Joe, when you did the dishes tonight without me even asking, that showed me you loved me. I mean, I knew you loved me, but you showed it in such a tangible way. I was really touched."
God made us in his image. He enjoys his well-deserved worship and praise just as much as we do for much smaller things. I don't know about you, but when I worship in a corporate setting, my mind is in a more general place of worship. I thank God, but I thank him for his love and mercy and stuff. When I'm alone, I thank God for bringing me to a place where I could do an hour on the elliptical.
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