Living in the AND

I have always been someone who is either fully in or fully out, not much middle ground.  I suppose when people call me passionate and determined, it kind of goes along with the territory. I mean, life is short, why waste time sitting around and not simply going for it? Life to the full (John 10:10), with no regrets, is the way I have wanted and have lived for the first 50 years of life.

 

“The glory of God is revealed in a person who is fully alive” (Saint Irenaeus)

 

Oh, how I long to be fully alive, to reveal His glory, to be His faithful servant, to get to the pearly gates and hear the words, “well done good and faithful servant”, to be known as someone who never held back. 

 

But this comes with a warning. I have been told many times that I expect too much, I have always had high expectations for myself and others around me. It has been a strength AND a downfall all at the same time. I have lost much and hurt many with this ‘all or nothing’ zest for life. 

 

As 50 came and went, life took a turn and ‘living life to the full’ became something that I lost focus on. Because if I couldn’t have it all, I didn’t want anything. You could say that for the past 2 years I have tapped out. Life has slowed me down, taken my breath away and even my desire to fully live at times or to see a future that is hopeful. In that tapped out space my focus has been more on loss, doubt, confusion, guilt, sadness, dead ends, blindsides, shock, anger, blame, death and hopelessness. 

 

The ‘all or nothing’ in me just didn’t know how to live with both. Is that even possible? When my wise mum said “I need to learn to live in the AND”, I simply drew a blank and had no idea how to do that. It is this weird space of living in AND.  How can it be? I can’t fathom that you can be in complete brokenness and yet still enjoy a laugh or a moment as well.  I can see how it is important, staying down in the depths for a long time is not healthy. But what I don’t know how to do, is to not feel guilty about the joyful feelings, when I am supposed to be in a sad and broken time of my life. When grieving loss, I feel guilty if I enjoy a moment, as if I am denying the pain I am in. If I look happy, I feel guilty that people will think I am over the pain. 

 

It is not always ‘all on’ or ‘all off’, in fact living in the AND means it is both at the same time. How come I am 50+ and only just beginning to navigate this?  And deeper than that, it is something I must acknowledge deeply as something I must say sorry for, confess as a sin that has caused pain to God’s heart and to others. 

 

“Real confession is deeper than seeing our own failure...we need to see how our own sin impacts our communion and intimacy with God and with other people. Sin should break our hearts – not because we discover we are imperfect – but because we see that our sin has destructive consequences.” (S.G Brown, ‘Sensible Shoes’, pg 162-163)

 

 

I am on a journey now, to understand how to live in the AND. To feel the pain and loss and not deny it, but to not deny the joy, love and peace that is true because of who God is and what He has done. To seek what it means to live “fully alive” in the second part of life, even when I know it will look very different to the first 50 years. To not allow sadness and doubt to overshadow the good that was had in the first 50 years, to bring it forward and hold onto that joy that I chose to live back then. AND yet to move forward, choosing to live to the full with no regrets every day. Lord, help me push the guilt away when I feel joy, even in the midst of holding the pain and learning from it as well. 

 

“The glory of God is revealed in a person who is fully alive” (Saint Irenaeus)

 

Oh, how I long to be fully alive, to reveal His glory, to be his faithful servant, to get to the pearly gates and hear the words, “well done good and faithful servant”, to be known as someone who never held back AND to never deny that this life will hurt at times. I must feel this but I don’t have to cling to it or feed it, but listen prayerfully to what it may teach me.

 

 

 

 

Broken Shells

Walking along the beach is always so peaceful for me. The soft, white sand under your feet is always pleasant. But this particular day, as I came to the end of the beach, I wanted to venture around the point to see what was on the other side. As I followed the path towards the rocks, the path began to become more painful to walk. A little further along the path became crushed shells that were at first easy to walk on but soon they became bigger shells, broken, petrified shells.  Until it became impossible to walk on without pain, a lot of pain.

 

The shells looked like a graveyard of death; broken, lacking color and petrified

as if literally scared to death. They were sharp and painful to walk on and somewhat depressing. Over a long period of time, they will become soft, smooth sand. Nature’s wonderful way of recycling, bringing something new out of something old. Of course, this would take 1000s of years , such a long process that I cannot even comprehend. 

 

As I walked into the rock pools near the path, I found a shell in all its colorful beauty; what these dead shells would have looked like in their prime. 

 

I had to turn back. I couldn't go on to see what was around the corner.  My feet were quite sore the next day from the beating the petrified and broken shells gave them.

 

I returned the next day with shoes on to discover that only a few meters around the corner, if I had simply persevered through the pain, I would have come to solid and smooth rocks and a quiet sheltered cove to swim in.  

 

As I begin a 4-month journey around Australia, I can’t help but feel for the petrified shells. Like them, I I know brokenness, times when I have lost my color and feel somewhat petrified about my future.  Times when so much has died and as a result I can be prickly and painful to be around. We all know we have all felt like this at times. I am encouraged to know that I can be recycled, made new, become smooth and soft and repurposed.  And yet I feel a little discouraged that I haven’t got 1000 years on this earth to possibly see that all come to pass. Yet to God 1000 years is like a day, so maybe God can speed up the process and help me feel more refined, hopeful and soft. And if not, I must simply choose to trust Him anyway. 

 

As I walked the path again the next day it was a different experience. I had soft thongs on to buffer the pain and was able to push through easily to get to the other side.  We need that buffer at times don't we? Something, someone to protect us during those painful parts of the journey.  If I had not returned with protection on my feet, I would not have found that there was beauty on the other side of the pain. 

 

Protection comes in all forms, but we certainly need it at times. We need to allow the softness and protection of a person, a place, a space that gives us the ability to push on forward. Sometimes it is    simply a covering to get you through the rough patch and out the other side to see that just around the corner there is hope.  I certainly decided that to venture back on that same track again to see what was on the other side I wasn’t going to try to do it in bare feet again. But maybe if I knew how close I was to getting through to the other side, I might have persevered through the pain. You just never know, but I am thankful for those who walk with me. Sometimes they simply choose to walk in the pain with me, sometimes I am carried and protected by them when the going gets too tough for me to bear on my own. One thing I know for sure is that we are not meant to do it alone. 

 

No matter where the track leads, the reality of the broken shells remain. They are a stark reminder that what was once full of color and life, will die and break. This cannot be changed or altered, but it can be recycled into something new. 

 

HE WHO WAS SEATED ON THE THRONE SAID, "I AM MAKING EVERYTHING NEW!" THEN HE SAID, "WRITE THIS DOWN, FOR THESE WORDS ARE TRUSTWORTHY AND TRUE.” (REV 21: 5) 

 

 

This trip is one of those refining moments, when you take time out to focus on God, who knows where you will end up. It may take longer than I have hoped, but each day I will continue to walk the soft sandy beaches of our beautiful Australian coastline and remember that God can make beautiful things out of the broken. 

 

Waves Crashing on the Rocks

 

I find so much beauty and excitement as I watch the waves crash into the rocks at the beach. I can watch it all day. I love to capture it on film. I watch it over and over again as the sets roll in, and each time it is never quite the same. 

 

It is just what the waves do, they form and roll and as they get to the rocks ... they collide and smash and dissipate and reform.

 

Photographers especially love it when the weather is so extreme that the collisions become simply spectacular. 

 

I ask myself “How can I enjoy the beauty of the collision in nature and yet cry and complain when I feel like my life is like a wave?” 

 

I have never considered that the wave might feel like, “oh no the rocks are coming close, no, no, Why, why is this happening to me, this is going to hurt, I will never be the same. And then I will be sucked out to sea and it will happen all over again.” 

 

And yet, the collision, the smash, the dissipation, the suck, over and over again, the spectacular crash is just not something I can always celebrate as life takes its rolls and swirls. 

 

There are moments in life that feel like a spectacular crash, the smash that means that life will never be the same, the collision of what you thought was a beautiful life smashed against the rocks of reality. Times when you crash on those rocks and get sucked into new directions that means life will never be the same. 

 

Those moments when the crash has knocked the breath out of you and you have been tossed onto the rock and left alone to navigate your way back to the ocean, knowing that particular formation of a wave has gone forever. 

 

And there it is, just when I want to sit in my self-pity and feel sorry for myself, I find myself on the rock. The rock that is stable, firm, unmoving, steadfast. 

 

The whole when “I am weak, He is strong” thing, that I believe even when I cannot feel it right now. 

 

^“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-11)

 

The reminder and promise that “I need nothing more than God” and that “He is my rock”.  Those promises we talk about it, sing about and remember by heart are all good until they are all you are holding onto. 

 

When we are gasping for air and don’t want the new life ahead and yet the promise of new life from death and surrender is His central message. If we can’t choose to live it in these times, then what has life been all about? 

 

I walk onto the rocks and find those little shallow rock pools where the water lands at times. The places of calm where the water gets to rest, catch its breath. Ah ... a chance to breathe. But if you stay too long you get mossy and stagnate. 

 

No, it is the living and flowing water, that is where life is. 

 

"Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them" John 7:38

As I sit on the rocks and watch the still waters and the flowing waves side by side I know where I want to be most of my life. But to flow like living water, comes with pain, loss and challenge and joy. 

 

As Cory Asbury says in his song “'faithful Wounds' - I have learned to kiss the waves that push my soul into the caves”. 

I confess, I can’t kiss the waves yet, but I am on the journey.

 

I may never enjoy this crash, smash and collision in my own life, like I can enjoy watching the waves crash onto the rocks at the beach. But each day we can choose to take a step towards this new wave and trust that God knows where it will lead and that He will give us what we need to not only survive but learn to ride the wave again.

 

But as of today, I many never see waves smashing into rocks with quite the same delight.