As we usher in 2015, I can't help but be aware of some anxieties that have been heightened due to this new year. And seeing how it's January 6th, I'm
:: We got a glimmer of hope on Sunday after attending yet another new church. But this one...this one might be it. You know what I mean? The church where we commit for better for worse we're giving it the ol' college try. Which is, um, what's the word-- FANTASTIC. It's small. The pastor has only been there 8 months (he's a Louisville fan, so....there's that unfortunate strike against him). There seem to be lots of young families. So, what's the concern? The concern is we settle into a church that doesn't look like the Church. This would be a concern anywhere. Are we caring for the oppressed? Do we take up the concerns of the poor? Are we a beacon of hope in our community? And the bigger concern-- if the church is still figuring those things out, how do we- Adam and Marissa- make that central to our lives without the help of our church?
When we left Seattle, we had lots of tension about how we were living. We may have been allocating some resources towards those "less fortunate" than us, but really, we felt like following Jesus required more. And as I work towards making this little apartment in Roswell feel like home, I can't help but wonder if we're about to recreate our Seattle life. And this gives me anxiety. Because 2015 needs to look different for this family.
:: Our family is growing. We are so excited to bring another little boy into this home. And then I look at our home and think, "Help me, Jesus." Better stated, "Help us sleep, Jesus." Nolan and the wee man will share a room eventually. Until then, it'll be me, Adam, and Simba kickin' it in our room. And we all know how much fun it is to share a room with a newborn. That was dripping with sarcasm. I basically just stop myself from even thinking about coordinating naps, getting Nolan in a toddler bed, rearranging stuff to get the baby to sleep in the closet, etc.
:: But the big dog of all of the anxieties-- I have to get this baby out of me. After birthing Nolan, Adam felt like having another child was not necessary because the trauma of getting Nolan out was too much. We quickly fell in love with Nolan and the fear of July 20, 2013 wore off. I honestly felt really good about things within months of delivery. Even in the early stages of this pregnancy, I was cool as a cucumber, always reassuring Adam that this time around would be so different. So much easier.
Now, I'm approaching the 6 month marker of pregnancy. This baby is coming in a little over 3 months. April. In April this baby will find a way from inside of me to outside of me, and just typing that makes me want to cry. I'm not afraid of labor. I can do that. I did that for 72 hours. I can handle the pain, the fatigue. I don't think I realized how strong I was until I labored for 3 straight days and nights. I can do that again (to clarify, I won't do it that way again!!). It's the moments that followed Nolan's already scary entrance into the world that have me worried.
In this day of medicine, women still die during childbirth. Is that not crazy to anyone else?! In the United States women die in hospitals surrounded by doctors while giving birth. And when I think about that being my fate, I cannot fathom anyone else raising Nolan. I cannot let myself think about Adam with Nolan and our newborn baby boy without me. Because it's too hard. And yet, the questions come-- What if I hemorrhage again? What if they can't stop it quickly enough? What if I have to look into the terrified face of my husband again as chaos ensues around us? What if I only get to see my baby boy from across the room as someone else gets to hold him first?
And now comes the karate.
I know I have to combat these anxieties with Truth. I cannot control what will happen when it's time for our sweet boy to enter world. I can however look up. I can choose to behold Him who holds all the answers. Not because I want answers right now but because fixing me eyes on His character is going to be better than fixing my eyes on current circumstances.
"I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways. I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word." Psalm 119: 15-16
"Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds." Psalm 36:5
"In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?" Psalm 56: 4
"but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord." Jeremiah 9:24
In the midst of my anxiety, God is steadfast, a rock that is unmoving. I'm not treating Scripture like my crystal ball so I can be sure that I'll escape hardship. Rather, I'm choosing to disarm my anxieties by declaring who God is. Will I still struggle? Probably. But if I can only remember to keep looking up!
"Fear loses oxygen when every moment suspends itself under the purpose of bringing Him glory, of knowing His name and His nature." - Sara Hagerty in Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet
I'm not going to waste time bringing glory to my anxiety; instead, I'm going to choose to know and declare God's nature. So that in every piece of my story God is glorified.
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