Yesterday in my recovery community I worked up a schedule for our 12-step workshops and realized I was making notes for January, 2013. As a ministry leader, I plan to be helpful; if I’m not careful, I could forget to stay alert to the only true opportunity available – today. After I finish this newsletter I will retreat to my sanctuary for an extended time of quiet reflection. This helps me reset my future-focused clock back to the present. Without these timeouts, I may plan to be helpful, but miss the small moments to actually serve others well. Do you need a timeout? Here are some suggested “timeout” opportunities that can both renew our strength and improve our serve!

A Resource that doesn’t require you to leave home to get it – read a good book

In 1991 Jane Wolf founded Life Path Ministries – a restoration, rebuilding, and recovery ministry at Salem Alliance Church. Formerly a marriage and family counselor, a public school teacher and trained spiritual director, Jane currently invests her time in writing, training lay leadership, speaking and consulting. In her spare time, Jane wrote a fabulous book, Stepping Out…with a hope and healing for a hurting world. Jane speaks frankly of the steps and missteps her church took as they sought to become the kind of church that faces the brokenness of people with tools that ultimately create a sustainable church-based recovery ministry. To order Jane’s book, contact Jeffrey Cage at service@lanjava.net.

Training worth the trip – learn from the experience of others

Mark and Debbie Laaser have a Christian recovery ministry focused on ministering to individuals and couples who struggle because of sexual addiction. They sought the best information from both the secular and Christian communities (along with their own experiences in recovery) and developed a program to restore lives, marriages and families. Who doesn’t need this kind of resource? Their next training is coming up on April 12-14, 2012 – so check them out! They have a plethora of additional resources including: counseling, workshops, and more. Go to faithfulandtrueministries.com for more details.

Hope for the future – connect with others

• Our updated website is nearing completion…stay tuned.

• We are offering several regional breathe conferences for 2012. We’ll be bringing you details as they are formalized, but thought you would like to hear from John Fort, Program Coordinator for Pure Life Alliance, “The breathe conference was a very positive experience meeting with others who are doing recovery ministry across the nation. I particularly enjoyed having the opportunity to network and discuss different approaches to recovery with other ministry leaders. There is great potential in this kind of collaborative effort.”

Blessings, Teresa

As a mom and minister, the special preparations surrounding the Christmas season seem intense and the actual experience short-lived.  When my children were young, I was amazed at how long it took to gather the gifts, wrap the packages, fill the stockings with care, prepare the Christmas feast and bake all those sugar cookies and other delectable treats that we try to avoid eating the other 364 days of the year.   Church isn’t much different.  We decorate the sanctuary, dig through closets to find the holiday trimmings and advent wreath.  In our recovery community, we provide special events and good food for the brave souls who will spend Christmas in treatment, jail or on the streets.  Our November “breathe” conference was a similar experience – months of preparation, with the event itself flying by in a flash.  It was a privilege and blessing to spend two days with 70 other men and women who are passionate about recovery.  Here are some of the “takeaways” from our time together:

• We want more experiences like “breathe…”.

Our time was short, but our intuitions were confirmed.  Helpers need time to get away and recharge their spiritual batteries.  In 2012, we hope to provide a modified version of “breathe” in various regions across the country.  Our dream is to provide resources and training for recovery ministry leaders, pastors, therapists and others, at a location within driving distance of their fields of service.  Let us know if you would like to host a “breathe” experience in your community!

• We want more connection and time to talk about the practical, day-to-day problems and opportunities that arise when we serve the addicted and those who love them.

It was fascinating to sit with fellow conference attendees and hear so many different perspectives.  People gathered from Alaska, Canada, California, Virginia and even down the street (in Texas).  One couple came hoping for a word of encouragement about how to begin a ministry to their addiction-ridden community.   Others came with decades of experience, eager to share what they’ve learned with those who need to know how to address the profound needs uncovered in their congregation, at work, and sadly, also at home.   Some were therapists; others were pastors.  We even had a couple of lawyers and a CEO in attendance.  One common frustration was our limited time together.  Some wanted a longer time for personal renewal; others desired more time to think strategically.

A suggestion was made that perhaps we could focus our efforts by dividing us up into experience levels – and we will look into that. Several people expressed appreciation for the chance to hear from people whose experiences were quite diverse from their own. We all agreed that we want MORE!   We’re working to find affordable, accessible ways for us to gather and learn from one another.  Our new website will be up and running soon, we’ve got some webinars in the works, we’re having interesting conversations with many of you who are willing to join the NACR and help fulfill its dream to provide a way to get more materials, more education, more consulting services, more curriculum, more opportunities for discussion.

We’ve only just begun…stay tuned!  Blessings to you and yours this holiday season,

Teresa

We breathed in Dallas on November 7th and 8th…and it was exhilarating.
Thanks to all who sacrificed time and finances to make the trip!
We came together from the extremes of the compass points, even as far away
as Canada. We breathed, talked, cried, worshiped, discussed and perhaps debated
a point or two. I hope we made new friends and found a person we could contact should
we need a listening ear outside our inner circle of community.

We plan on “breathing” in the future. We look forward to the possibility of hosting “breathe”
events in 2012 at regional sites across the country…this time we’re open to coming to you.

Participants considered joining the initiative of providing hope for the helpers of the hurting by
putting a shoulder to the plow. We are looking to add training, resources, consulting and classes in
the years ahead.  We are also looking forward to our new website in January!

• A space for reflection; a spiritual “time out” for those who spend time serving others.
• Opportunities for conversation and connecting; ministry can be both isolating and lonely.
• Inspiration that births renewed energy, creativity and opens us up to new ways of imagining our place in God’s story; it is easy to stagnate as we are daily assaulted by the tyranny of the urgent.
• An overview of the six key initiatives of the National Association for Christian Recovery. We hope that some who attend will leave the conference committed to joining us in providing resources, training and hope to recovery ministry leaders and other frontline responders to the addicted and their loved ones.

In 1989, three people – Carmen Renee Berry, Pat Means, and Dale Ryan – began a series of meetings that led to the formation of NACR. At the time, few churches had recovery ministries. Those that existed were mostly small, disconnected, marginalized, and confronted by resistance from elements in the Christian community. They were lucky to get a room in the basement.

Networking seemed the obvious first step. The NACR organized its first national STEPS conference, and began publishing STEPS magazine. The conference and the magazine were NACR’s public face for almost 15 years.

The past five years have seen dramatic changes – some good (such as the rapid growth of the Christian recovery movement) and some less so (such as the economic downturn). In response to these changes and to the evolving media landscape, the NACR has embraced a more digital focus. This allows the NACR to touch thousands of people every day through the daily e-mail meditation and the NACR website, which has received wide praise as a resource for Christians in recovery. The pioneering work of Carmen, Pat, and Dale has laid a solid foundation for us to build on, and I am very grateful to them.

My own church entered the world of recovery ministry in 1999. I did not know what I was doing, but I had some personal experiences and educational opportunities that fueled my passion for recovery within the context of the local church. My family taught me that everyone needs recovery, and some of us are blessed with a level of dysfunction that makes this need obvious and compelling.

My church acknowledged its powerlessness to help families in need of recovery, and gave our team permission to try to change that dynamic. I am fortunate to live out my passion for Christian recovery as minister of NorthStar Community (“NSC”), a recovery ministry of Bon Air Baptist Church in Richmond, Virginia. This is what I do. But in keeping with working a healthy program, I need to confess I feel a kinship to Dale’s description of the recovery movement:

It probably should not surprise us that God chose a couple of hopeless drunks to start something important – rather than picking a couple of professors at a seminary or a couple of respected pastors. God did in this case what he has done many times throughout history – he picked people who did not have the respect of their communities to head up major advances in his Kingdom. Moses is the first example that comes to mind – he certainly did not have the credibility he thought he needed.[1]

The days of wondering if anyone will let us out of the basement have passed. A new day beckons. Christians around the globe are asking great questions about the role they can play in the recovery movement. The question is no longer whether a recovery ministry is a viable option for a church, but how it can best be pursued: How do we respond to the families suffering from substance abuse? How do we develop healthy leadership? How do we sustain this kind of ministry? How do we find the resources we need to carry God’s message of hope to hurting people? How do we remain faithful and healthy as we serve?

Last November, a small group gathered in Kansas City to talk about how we might encourage those on the front lines of recovery ministry. There is plenty of work to do – but that doesn’t mean we have made no progress. Thanks in large part to the efforts of Leadership Network, an organization that helps church innovators collaborate, a network of people with decades of widely varying experience in this field has begun to emerge. Our job at the NACR is to find those trailblazers and create a venue where they can share with us what they have learned.

In the months ahead, I will be introducing you to the team we are building to serve you. Our mission remains the same: to provide resources, training and hope to others who share our passion for Christian recovery. We are working to collaborate with recovery ministry leaders, pastors, therapists and others who can provide the support, encouragement and tools necessary to sustain recovery within the walls of our churches. In the near future, expect to see a revamped website, on-line learning opportunities, and intentional discussion communities popping up in both the virtual and real world – places for us to gather and listen and learn from one another.

As the new executive director of the NACR, I count it a privilege to follow in the footsteps of Dale, Pat and Carmen (and many others including Dale Wolery who served as NACR executive director for several years). I feel as though I were being asked to host a party where others prepared the food, set the table and cleaned the house. I am thrilled to be here, and hope you will accept our invitation to participate.

But fair warning – I’m wearing running shoes! As Dorothy says to Toto in the classic movie, The Wizard of Oz – “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” The recent transition in leadership of the NACR brings some exciting new opportunities. As Dale recently put it: “The combination of enthusiasm, visionary thinking and realistic planning that I see in the new leadership team is just what the NACR needs. I suggest fastening your seat-belts. The next stage of the NACR’s journey has begun and it’s going to be a grand, epic adventure.”

I ask you to join us. Please feel free to contact me with any questions, concerns or bright ideas you have for making the NACR a great association at nacronline@gmail.com.

Blessings,

Teresa J. McBean,

Executive Director,

National Association for Christian Recovery

____________________________

[1] “The Christian Recovery Movement: A Brief Introduction,” a talk given at the May, 2003, ISAAC convention in Madrid (go to www.NACRonline.com for the complete text).

Shame is that terrible, private feeling that something is wrong with us—that we are somehow defective as a person. That we are irreparably damaged. That if anyone really knew what we were like we would be rejected.

A part of the experience of shame is the fear of being found out and exposed. We want to run and hide and protect ourselves from exposure to other people’s judgement.

Many of us start accumulating shame in childhood. Sometimes the roots of shame involve abuse, neglect or significant trauma. But shame can also be rooted in less intense experiences. Shame can be created if a child is told she is irresponsible or stupid when he spills his milk or brings home grades that don’t meet a parent’s expectations. Rather than being taught how to clean up the spilled milk, or helped in ways that might allow for greater success in school, a kind of character assassination takes place which leaves a child believing terrible things about herself.

Shame can also be formed when a child’s basic needs for secure attachment, nurture and attention are chronically unmet. When our longings for relatedness are not met, the basic human need to love and to be loved can feel shameful to us.

Unfortunately, accumulated shame does not just go away as time passes. Unless it is addressed directly, we carry shame with us. Sometimes it may seem dormant, but in times of stress our shame can float to the surface of our lives and complicate things. For example, a diagnosis of a serious illness can be a trigger for feelings of shame. Being told “something is seriously wrong with you” can feel very much like the old shaming message of “you are defective” or “you can’t do anything right.” And when a serious diagnosis is public information we can feel very vulnerable and exposed. As a result it can be difficult to sort out our responses to the current crisis from our responses to old, accumulated shame.

The good news is that anytime shame surfaces there is an opportunity to experience healing of the experiences and beliefs that have fed the shame.

When Jesus faced death by crucifixion, we are told that he “endured the cross and scorned the shame” (Hebrews 12:2), Jesus endured the pain. That is, Jesus did not avoid the suffering, but instead, he went through the suffering. But he rejected the shame. All the shame that others were attempting to heap on him had no power over him. Jesus did not accept the shame others were trying to put on him. He was being treated as a person with little or no value. But the message of shame, “you have little or no value,” was a lie and Jesus refused to accept it.

We tend to do the opposite of what Jesus did when faced with suffering. Jesus accepted suffering and rejected shame. We tend to reject the suffering—we deny it, run from it, tune it out—but we tend to embrace the shame as if it were the truth. Shame, however, is a lie. None of us is ever “less than.” None of us are unlovable, beyond repair, or worthless. We are loved and cherished by a redeeming, healing, saving God. And none of us is in the wrong for longing for love and connection. This longing, although it may be painful at times, is a gift from God. It is a gift that keeps us moving toward relationship with God and with each other.

I experienced moments of shame for having breast cancer. I had feelings of being somehow “less than” women who did not have breast cancer. I had thoughts of being “marked” and “unlucky” and inferior because of this diagnosis.
When I remembered the women I know who are breast cancer survivors I could see that I was being entirely irrational. These women are some of the most beautiful humans I know.

The most important thing for me was not to figure out where these feelings of shame were coming from. The most important thing for me was to let them go.

Years earlier I had decided to practice an unusual “giving up” for the Lenten season. In some traditions it is common to make some kind of personal sacrifice in the weeks leading up to Easter that will help keep us mindful of Christ’s sacrifice. I had given up desserts and chocolate on previous years. But this time I decided instead to give up my fear and shame. My sons were young at the time, and when I talked at the dinner table about my plan they asked, “You aren’t going to feel any fear or shame for seven weeks?” I told them that was not my plan. I expected to continue feeling fear and shame. My plan was to stay aware of these feelings and to do my best to release them to God as soon as I was aware of them. I wasn’t planning on examining them and analyzing them. I simply was going to tell God, “I am feeling fear or shame, and I release these feelings to you.”

I did this practice of letting go of fear and shame for seven weeks. It changed something in me. Of course, I still experience these feelings, but I am more aware of them, and I can release them more readily.

When our family went to family week at the addiction treatment center where our son was being treated, they taught us to discard shame using a physical gesture of throwing our hands in the air and saying, “I release this shame, this shame does not belong to me.” This was close to what I had done for seven weeks. Sometimes I did this outwardly with a physical gesture. Sometimes I did it inwardly. A physical gesture such as this, which symbolizes the release of shame, can be a powerful way to reinforce our growing willingness to let go of shame.

Letting go of shame is important because shame leads only to destructive places. Shame keeps us focused on how bad we feel about ourselves, and thus less aware and open to others. Shame keeps us immobilized because it is based in the belief that we are hopelessly beyond help. Shame pushes us to isolate because we feel too exposed. Shame feels so terrible that it opens the door to rage. We cannot stand to feel so terrible so we lash out at ourselves and we lash out at others.

When hard times come, feelings of shame often surface—feelings of being worthless and unlovable. We can let these feelings go. They do not belong to us. We are valued. We are loved.

When you don’t know what to do…let go of shame.

Questions for reflection and discussion

1. What shame are you feeling in relation to the difficulty you are experiencing?

2. What other shame are you aware of?

3. Practice letting go of shame, throwing your hands in the air and saying, “This shame does not belong to me.”

4. Ask God to help you reject the shame you feel and to be open in new ways of resting in God’s love.

Difficulties in life bring out the best in us. And the worst. This was certainly true of my experience with cancer. I prayed and practiced surrender and took in the love and support of others and of God. And I was resentful and jealous and reactive.

The resentfulness, jealousy and reactivity were not pretty. They were dark and disturbing. This darkness needed my attention. It needed to be acknowledged and healed.

Scripture offers us tools for attending to our dark side. Scripture teaches us to invite God to search us and to show us our hearts, our anxious thoughts, our offensive ways (Psalm 139:25-26). It also teaches us that confession is an important part of our healing. (James 5:16).

God is not surprised by the darkness of my responses. God knows that my self-seeking and selfishness will show itself on a regular basis. And God has provided not only forgiveness but practical help and healing. God offers to reveal my offensive ways to me and to help me tell the truth about them so that I can be healed.

The book Alcoholics Anonymous provides some practical tools for attending to our resentments and fears. These tools can be helpful to anyone whether we are struggling with an addiction or not. In Step Four of the Twelve Steps we are given guidelines for making a “fearless moral inventory,” in which we explore our resentments and fears. And in Step Ten we continue taking daily inventory of our resentments and fears and we continue to make amends when we have wronged another person.

When I found myself reacting to the diagnosis of cancer, I used the tools of inventory taking. I began by praying that God would reveal my anxious thoughts and offensive ways. And then I wrote down what or who I was resentful towards. And why. I wrote down the ways I believed I was being hurt or threatened. And then I asked the question suggested in Alcoholics Anonymous: “Where was I being selfish, self-seeking, dishonest and afraid?”.

The following is some of my inventory about my resentment towards friends who didn’t respond just the way I wanted them to respond.

Where am I being selfish?
I think it is all about me, ‘I have breast cancer, pay attention to me,’ is what I seem to want to demand of my friends.

Where am I being self seeking?
I am seeking attention and sympathy, but not too much sympathy, everyone has to get it just right. I am also seeking approval for how I am handling this.

Where am I being dishonest?
I am deceiving myself in thinking that others need to pay extra attention to me; I am deceiving myself that there is a good way, as opposed to a bad way, to be coping with a difficult diagnosis; I am deceiving myself that I need to prove myself to my friends in some way; and I am forgetting the truth that I can rest in God’s love and care no matter what I am feeling or needing.

Where am I afraid?
I am afraid that I am not handling this well and that I will lose the respect of my friends.

I also wrote inventory about my resentment toward the cancer itself.

Where was I being selfish?
I acknowledged the terrible thought that “I would rather this was happening to someone else instead of to me.”

Where was I being self-seeking?
I would rather be the helper than the one being helped, because then I could feel more in charge of things, and feel like I have something to offer, rather than feeling out of control and vulnerable.

Where was I being dishonest?
I am believing the lie that I am in charge of my health. And I am believing the lie that I should somehow be immune from this kind of human suffering. I am also believing the lie that I don’t have a lot I need to learn from this experience.

Where was I being afraid?
I am afraid the cancer might return. I am afraid of the procedures and the surgery. And I am afraid of being afraid.

After I wrote this inventory, I talked to God about what I had written and I talked to at least one other person. This was helpful. It relieved me of some of the burden of pride and pretense. I experienced some relief from the feelings that accompanied these selfish, deceitful, fearful thoughts. This is consistent with the teaching in 1 John 1:9 that when we confess our sins we are forgiven and purified. Later, in this same text (I John 2:8) it describes the “darkness passing” and the “true light shining.” This is what I experienced when I took my inventory and shared it with both God and another person. I felt the darkness passing and the light of God’s grace shining in me—correcting me, healing me, freeing me.

One of the reasons taking inventory is so important is that we tend to wander off the path. We forget who we are, who our neighbor is and who God is. We forget we are loved. We forget we are valued. We forget our neighbor is also deeply loved and valued. We forget that God loves us. We wander off looking for love and valuing in some other place. We get proud, greedy and defensive. We treat others as less than the precious children of God that they are. We forget that we can rest in God’s love and care for us. And, as a result, we make a mess of things.

In the daily adventures of life, taking inventory of our anxious thoughts and offensive ways makes it possible for God to heal us and free us. God restores us to our right mind. God reminds us who we are, who our neighbor is and who God is. We, who were confused and lost, are found again. And, we are told, that when the lost are found, there is always great rejoicing in heaven.

When you don’t know what to do…take inventory.

Questions for reflection and discussion

1. Ask God to reveal your resentments, especially in relation to the difficulty you are experiencing.

2. Who or what are you resentful toward? Why?

3. Ask God to show you, in relation to your resentments, where you are being selfish, self-seeking, dishonest or afraid.

4. Share what you have been shown with God and at least one other trusted person.

5. Ask God to continue to free you from your resentments.

The first responses I received when I told people about being diagnosed with cancer were usually responses of shock and compassion. I felt tenderness from most people. And I was soothed by that tenderness.

Within days, however, I wrote in my journal that I was feeling that somehow too many of the interactions I was experiencing about my cancer seemed “off.” People could not say the right thing or have the right tone. People didn’t call or send cards. Or they did. Either way, I might have some reaction. I even wrote in my prayer journal that I realized I was reacting negatively to other peoples’ expressions of sympathy. I didn’t like hearing or seeing their sympathy. Perhaps it made my cancer diagnosis too real. “Something is wrong with me,” I wrote.

I was emotionally raw. I was riding on emotional white water rapids. I was suddenly uncertain about many things I usually took for granted. And I was afraid.

When we are faced with a scary situation that continues for some time, we often become reactive. We cannot always talk ourselves out of this reactivity, but it is helpful if we at least know what is happening. Being aware that we are raw and reactive can help us to be more mindful and more prayerful about how we go about expressing our reactivity.

People who are recovering from addictions of various kinds are at risk of relapse. Some people believe that when a person is hungry, angry, lonely or tired they are at even greater risk of relapse. This can be remembered with the acronym, HALT. The idea is that a person will be less likely to relapse if they halt and pay attention to these basic concerns. People are reminded to get something to eat when they are hungry, to get some quality rest when they are tired, to make a phone call or go to a meeting when they are lonely, and to take responsibility for their feelings when they are angry.

I think this wisdom can be applied to our tendency to react when we are distressed or afraid. Not all of us will be tempted to pour ourselves a drink, but we might do something just as counter productive. We might tell people off, or withdraw from people who care about us.

Before we attack or withdraw, we do well to HALT. Then we need to take care of ourselves. We need to eat, rest and connect with someone who is supportive. We also need take responsibility for our reactions. We need to remember that we are raw and we need to remind ourselves that the people we are reacting to are people who care about us, even if they are not able to always express that care in ways that are helpful to us.

There were a few times I told myself to sleep on it, before I told someone how “hurt” I was. If the sleep didn’t calm my reactivity, I spent time asking God for wisdom. I asked God to show me whether this event was something I needed to let go of or whether it was something I needed to talk through with the other person. Only once or twice was there something that needed to be talked through. Mostly, I needed to ask for grace and comfort from God and let it go.

Many years before being diagnosed with cancer I went through a long period in which I felt emotionally raw while I came to terms with childhood trauma. I would, at times, be thrown back into the feelings which I had experienced as a child—but which I could not express at that time. During those times of wanting to do the equivalent of throwing temper tantrums, I came across a helpful piece of advice from Thomas Merton. Merton said that we do well to not inflict our suffering on others. It is wise advice. I do not want to inflict my suffering on others.

So, what to do? In addition to using HALT and praying for God’s comfort, grace and wisdom, I found it helpful to remember that self control is a gift of the Spirit. As we invite God’s Spirit to live in us, as we surrender our wills and our lives to God’s care, the life of the Spirit begins to flow through us more freely.

This requires us to practice the basic disciplines that help us with reactivity to any life event. Stay grounded. Keep breathing. Feel what we feel. Pray. Practice surrender. Set aside extra time each day to be quiet in order to practice these basics. In this way we are often able to receive the comfort and correction we need. In this way we can invite God’s Spirit to flow into us and through us, giving us the gifts of self control that we need.

When you don’t know what to do…notice your reactivity.

Questions for reflection and discussion

1. What have you noticed about your own reactivity?

2. Which of the suggestions made here have you tried and how did they work?

3. Which of these suggestions might be especially helpful for you?

Although I love doing lectio divina, this time it was difficult for me, because the word rejoice kept getting in the way. Nope. Wrong word. Not during Lent. I was looking for something more somber, in keeping with this season of Jesus’ suffering and death. But no matter how hard I tried to make a different part of the passage jump out at me, I could imagine it only as 7-point type, a size that even a 20-year-old can’t read without glasses. And yet when my mind went back to rejoice, I kept seeing that ill-fitting word as colorful, illuminated calligraphy on a grand scale.

Rejoice during Lent? Is that what God was inviting me to do?

I had two prejudices that made me want to resist that invitation. First, I rarely hear the word rejoice any more, except in a Sunday-morning sermon and other formal contexts, so I don’t often expect whatever is being said about it to be something I can relate to. In everyday American English we talk about being happy, and we might talk about feeling joyful. But not really about “rejoicing.”

My second prejudice is that Lent is a time that we are invited to become more aware of our own weaknesses, limitations, and sins and draw closer to Jesus, who loves us deeply, forgives us, heals us, and changes us. That’s a lot to be thankful for and to anticipate being joyful about on Easter as we celebrate the Resurrection. The idea of experiencing joy during Lent, though, didn’t quite work for me. I already find it too easy to avoid my sins without getting the wrong kind of help from Scripture. Besides, if I’m increasing in my awareness of my sinfulness during Lent, isn’t that “a time to grieve,” as the preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes says?

Part of my struggle with being joyful during Lent is no doubt due to some bad teaching I had as I was growing up. In my church youth group whenever we sang, “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart” and I was anxious about an exam I was having the next day, I figured that if I had any joy in my heart it was down too deep to do me any good. And I wasn’t helped by hearing church leaders describe joy as something deep inside you that you don’t necessarily feel. They said we must always be joyful even when we don’t feel like it, and the feelings would follow. I tried that a few times before realizing it isn’t entirely true. Also, people I knew who practiced that belief didn’t seem like real people who could empathize with those who were in distress.

But to avoid being joyful because of bad teaching, and especially when God is inviting me to be joyful, would mean missing out on some good things God wants to give me. So I’ve been contemplating reasons to be joyful throughout this Lenten season. I’ve discovered that one important thing I can be joyful about is the sense of freedom I have as I learn to let go of the things I cannot control.

Now, letting go is a slow, ongoing process for me. I want to be in control, and I want my life to fit my expectations. Although praying the Serenity Prayer often helps me let go of my expectations, prejudices, agendas, and desire to be in control, and helps me give those things to God (for the moment, anyway), old habits take time to break. Sometimes my actions suggest that I’m replacing the line “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change” with my secretly preferred version: “God grant me the serenity to change the things I cannot accept.” But I know that when I try to change things that are not my responsibility, I end up disappointed and frustrated. When I manage to give the responsibility to God, however, I am free. Free from having to measure up to other people’s expectations of me. Free from having to measure up to my expectations of myself. And free from having quite so many things to concern myself with. My burdens become lighter.

And that’s a cause for being joyful. For feeling joyful. So joyful that I want to laugh.

I do believe we can experience grief and joy at the same time—grief over our sinfulness and joy over the freedom that God is creating within us. Or at least we can experience them within the same season.

May you discover reasons to experience joy during this Lenten season.

==========

Barbara Milligan was the associate editor of STEPS magazine for the last eight years of its life (its final issue was published in 2009). She is also a spiritual director and the author of Desperate Hope: Experiencing God in the Midst of Breast Cancer.

“Spirituality & Recovery” is a new blog, cohosted by Barbara Milligan and the Rev. Dr. Kim Engelmann, pastor of West Valley Presbyterian Church, in Cupertino, CA. Kim is the author of Running in Circles: How False Spirituality Traps Us in Unhealthy Relationships (IVP, 2007).

A few weeks after I was diagnosed with cancer, a music CD arrived in the mail from a friend. Several years earlier this friend had been told she had ovarian cancer and needed surgery. It turned out to be a false alarm, but she’d had a deeply significant spiritual experience through her ordeal.

This music had been a great help to her and she wanted to share it with me.

One particular track on the CD caught my attention. A single female voice, without accompaniment, sings with quiet strength. The music and words are simple. “Into thy hands, I commit myself. Into thy hands, I entrust all I am and all that holds my heart. Into thy hands, I commit.”* These words are repeated over and over by a growing chorus of voices.

The lyrics speak about surrender. Not about giving up. Not about resignation. But about a surrender to love.

Like many of us, I mostly want to believe that I am in charge of things. I want to believe that I have the power to manage just about everything—including my health and my life. I want to control what I cannot control. The truth is that I did not give myself life. I do not sustain my life. My life—every moment of it—is a gift. It is given to me by a creating, giving God.

When I try to control things that are out of my control, I create needless stress and anxiety for myself. But when I acknowledge that my life—each day, each breath—is a gift, I can begin to entrust “myself…all I am and all that holds my heart” into God’s loving care.

Trust, it turns out, is not an easy thing to do.

It is not easy to trust a God we have not seen. It is not easy to trust that God is loving enough or powerful enough to take good care of us. It is not easy to open our clenched fists and let go of all we want to control.

Many years earlier I struggled with other difficult issues including trying to find ways to heal our strained marriage. As I prayed for help and guidance, a simple image came to me. In this image I saw life as a large, quickly flowing river. I was in a small boat, floating on this river. There was no way to steer the small boat. My instinct was to try to reach up and grab onto the branches of trees that hung over the water. I wanted to stop what was happening. I wanted to be able to take charge of what was going on. But it wasn’t possible. The branches were out of my reach no matter how hard I stretched. The situation was pretty clear: I could either keep trying to find a way to take control of things that I could not control, or I could recline in the boat, allow myself to rest and experience the ride.

As I stayed with this image and stopped trying to grab onto the passing branches—as I allowed myself to sit back in the boat and relax—I had a growing sense that the boat was actually God’s hand carrying me. It was God’s hand carrying me through life. All of life. Both the smooth places and the white-water rapids.

The same God who made me, the God who sent Jesus to reveal God’s amazing love, the God who gives me breath, this One is carrying me. I am in God’s hands. I am safe. I am held. So I can stop all my controlling and striving and thrashing about. I can entrust myself and all that holds my heart to God’s loving care.

We are not meant to live in reliance on our own strength, brain power and willpower. The entire adventure of life is meant to be lived in reliance on our Creator. Life is meant to be an experience of communion, even union with God, in which we open ourselves to God—to the One who is Wisdom, Love, Grace, Guidance, Peace, Life, Light and Joy. Life is meant to be an experience, not of going it alone, but of going with God.

This image of resting in the palm of God’s hand—the “letting go and letting God” experience—could imply a kind of passivity. But there is nothing passive about surrendering to God’s love. Surrender does not mean we do nothing. It means that we do everything in reliance on God.

The practice of “letting God be God” is a kind of surrender to love that requires an ongoing, daily practice. My experience is that when I am anxious or afraid, I always want to take back control. The times I most need to entrust myself to God’s care are the very times I instinctively try to control what I cannot control. I have found that anytime I am anxious or angry, I need to stop and open my hands and heart in prayer. Anxiety and anger have become signals to me that I need to be honest with God about all that I am feeling and to entrust myself, my fears, my needs, my resentments, my concerns, my requests to God’s care.

What I observed after being diagnosed with breast cancer was that I would frequently tense up. If I would pause to pay attention to this, I would usually find that I was anxious about the next event—the next test, the next surgery, or the next set of results that were coming. I was bracing myself. I was resisting the ride. But when I was able to reconnect with my dependence on God, it was as if I was able to lean back and rest again in God’s loving hand.

Anytime we are afraid or in distress, we can allow ourselves to stop and hear God saying, like a loving parent: “You don’t have to be afraid. I am right here with you. Tell me what you need. I will help you.” Then, as trusting children, we can surrender. We can say “Okay” and let go and entrust ourselves to God’s good care.

When you don’t know what to do…practice surrender.

Questions for reflection and discussion

1. What thoughts and feelings do you have about the image of surrender or of resting in God’s hand?

2. What things do you find most difficult to entrust to God’s care?

3. What helps you to rest in God’s love and care for you?

* Monica Brown, “Into Your Hands,” from Holy Ground: Mantras and Chants for Reflection and Prayer, ©2000 Emmaus Productions, www.emmausproductions.com.