Punching and Prayer

I've tried two things to help with my anxiety (see previous post) that seem to be working.

1) Punching - In Jon Acuff's book Start, he talks about "punching fear in the face." He advises writing down the things fear says to you when you think about or start trying to make changes in your life. Fear usually says things like, "That will never work" or "It's too late for you to make this change." After you've identified the fears, Jon says to refute them, in detail. So I tried that with my anxiety. Since I knew what I was worried about, I then asked myself:

"What's the worst that could possibly happen in this situation?"

"How likely is this worst case scenario?"

"What supports and resources do I have if the worst actually does happen?"

"What are my options?"

Each situation I applied this to started to seem less scary and more manageable.

2) Prayer - I found this resource about anxiety online. But instead of reading the verses over and over, I decided to write them out in my own words and direct them at my specific circumstances. I only got through two verses - both re-writing and also some drawing to go with my thoughts - but I felt SO much better. Just from those two verses. And every time I have gone back to re-read those two verses, I have felt affirmed and at peace.

Will my anxiety return?

YES. Worry is too much of a habit for me at this point.

But I feel more equipped today than I did a week ago to address my fears and anxiety so it does not grow to control and consume me.

Martha, Martha, Martha

I'm a doer.

I have little patience for people who want to complain about what's wrong but refuse to take action. It's one of the reasons I choose not to serve on church committees. I have sat for hours listening to people analyze a situation and talk about how it got to be as "bad" as it is, but not one wants to just address the problem and FIX it.

Because of this, I'm not a great intercessor/prayer warrior. I pray for my friends and for needs as I am aware of them, but it's usually a sentence or two, or I write the person a note, and then I move on. I pray more as the situation comes to mind, but I don't devote time to it on a daily basis. I keep moving, rather than sit and contemplate and pray.

I was thinking recently about a list of prayer concerns or focuses I had for my son as the school year started. I put the list in a nice journal I made, right along side the concerns from previous years. But I rarely revisit it once it has been written. I write the list down and then get busy with life. I don't quiet myself and pray over those concerns in a formal way. I "hit them" when I think of them or when something comes up and the need is pressing.

At teacher convention back in October, we watched a skit about Mary and Martha from the Bible. I have never identified more with Martha than I did while watching the skit. In fact, I had to work at not just sobbing outright as I saw myself in this character on the screen.

Martha is NOT held up as a role model in scripture. Her sister Mary is the one who sits at the feet of Jesus, soaking up his presence. Martha is busy making food and preparing the home - and she is quite put out that her sister isn't helping! In the end of the skit, Martha is heartbroken when she realizes that she missed her moment to just BE with Jesus. And she can't get the moment back. In my head, I know that is me and that there is a challenge and a lesson in the story. But I turn right back into Martha, to do list in hand, come Monday morning.

I like being a do-er. I like taking action to fix something that will make someone else's life a little easier. I like feeling like I can make a difference for someone else by taking one task off their plate, or addressing a simple-to-fix problem so they don't have to wait for the powers-that-be to work it out.

But I don't want to busy my life away, either. I don't want to miss the encounter with Jesus - or with a student in need or with my family. I don't want to miss the wisdom, the peace, and the personal depth that can come from choosing to just "be."

As often as I have this realization, as often as I think about "savoring" a moment, it does NOT come naturally. It's not the first response that comes to mind.

So, how do I re-train myself to slow down and just be?

Stuck

About a month ago I was asked to do the congregational prayer at church for this past Sunday. I always say yes when I am asked but I am starting to question that practice. 


I am comfortable speaking in front of the church, even when I have to do something off the cuff. But the last two times I have done this prayer, the writing of the prayer itself has been the worst chore imaginable. I feel like I always bring the downer prayer. I feel like I have to write this epic work that is going to sound beautiful. Even when I try to write something completely from my heart, it feels wrong. Either I'm trying too hard to impress folks or I'm too narrowly-focused on my own needs and experiences. 


All day Saturday - as I did any other task but writing this prayer - I wondered what I was going to do. I started to think it might be a good plan to just string the words of songs together and hope no one really noticed! When I'm stressed, I can be too sassy for my own good.


Each word, each sentence is dragged out of me. I'm typing this up Saturday night to post Tuesday and I have never felt less prepared. It will be hard to get up tomorrow morning to do this. And I will be relieved when it is finished.

Prayer

I think prayer is an amazing and puzzling thing.

The Bible tells us to pray without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5). The Gospels tell us to ask, seek and knock and we will get results. I wrestle with the idea of prayer. Am I trying to convince God to do what He already is going to do? Am I trying to change His mind about something? Doesn't He already know what I'm thinking, what I need, and what He's going to do?

Sometimes I think prayer is less about God and more about me. I can be a pretty independent person. I know how I want things and I'll do them myself if necessary to get what I want, the way I want it. Maybe prayer is about acknowledging my true "power" in the universe - or lack thereof. Maybe prayer is saying, "You are God and I am not."

I am reading a great book on prayer right now called Pray Big. I don't have a picture for you because I am reading it electronically. [It could very well be the first book I finish on an e-reader (no matter how much I love my Nook, I am more of a tangible book person).] I like its message about praying specifically, praying for things that are bigger than I am, and honoring God with God-sized requests.

Recently I was reading a section where the author talked about a time when he was in big trouble. His prayer was just one word - "Help." And help arrived. Prayer doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to be real - authentic.

Last week, after we received word that my husband's grandmother had passed away, we all sat around trying to take it all in. My husband was grieving the fact that we had plans to talk with her and see her soon, but wouldn't have the chance. I was thinking through all the other things we already had going on and how to work travel and a funeral in with it all. 

I pulled my son close to me and started talking to him about my ideas - things we were going to have to miss because of the funeral and other things we would try to work out. He was understandably sad, and I pulled him close and talked softly about my husband's grief and our sadness and acknowledged how hard this year has been for all of us. Then I closed my eyes and said, "Lord, help us. Amen."

My son looked at me. "That was short." Yes, it was, but it was exactly what that moment needed. Prayer doesn't have to be long words and a formal tone. It can be a sigh, a plea, a whoop or a wail.

Lord, hear our prayers.