Saturday, July 26, 2014
I've moved! Thanks for supporting me in this writing endeavor these past five years! If you would like to continue following me, you can do so at: elizabethstamp.wordpress.com.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Confession: I have always wanted to be a dancer. I wish I could dance like the elf in Rudolf wishes he could be a dentist. But, alas, my awkward clumsiness will always be a hindrance to that dream. So, instead, I indulge in watching other people dance. (Which, I guess, could be another confession of its own.) I would be the first to admit that I know nothing about dance save what they tell me on TV. That being said, one of my favorite performances (on TV) ever would be this one:
I knows it's a little out-dated, but I love this song. I love the emotion it communicates and I love the movements this dance contributes to its message. A portion of the song goes like this:
Oh, you loved me 'cause I'm fragile
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone.
Set me free,
Leave me be.
I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me.
I get it. I totally identify with these words. But, you know, something I realized as I was listening to the song this week is that, unlike the narrator (speaker? singer?), I do not struggle alone.
What I realized is that, without God, the situation is bleak. The speaker in this song is pleading with her oppressor to let her go while relying on her own will and strength- which, as the song states, is fragile- to break free. What a huge, impossible burden to carry! What I find when I read Scripture, though, is that we who suffer temptation do not suffer alone. We have a Savior sympathetic to our weaknesses and a God powerful enough to completely free us. The promise of freedom is sweet to the ears of any stuck in the "gravity" of sin. But what's the catch? What do we have to do to find such release? I think that Paul gives us an answer in Ephesians 6, when he says:
Oh, you loved me 'cause I'm fragile
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone.
Set me free,
Leave me be.
I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me.
I get it. I totally identify with these words. But, you know, something I realized as I was listening to the song this week is that, unlike the narrator (speaker? singer?), I do not struggle alone.
What I realized is that, without God, the situation is bleak. The speaker in this song is pleading with her oppressor to let her go while relying on her own will and strength- which, as the song states, is fragile- to break free. What a huge, impossible burden to carry! What I find when I read Scripture, though, is that we who suffer temptation do not suffer alone. We have a Savior sympathetic to our weaknesses and a God powerful enough to completely free us. The promise of freedom is sweet to the ears of any stuck in the "gravity" of sin. But what's the catch? What do we have to do to find such release? I think that Paul gives us an answer in Ephesians 6, when he says:
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.
My friends, we are not just fighting our own wills; we are fighting powers of darkness! And they are strong! Though we are to arm ourselves, Paul does not say to go swinging your sword in the devil's face. Doing so is like trying to fight off a bouncer with a plastic knife. We may get a few cuts in, but really our efforts are useless. Though Paul does not command us to fight, he does tell us to stand. In fact, he says it twice (which makes it doubley important, right?) We are to stand firm, not in our own strength, as in the song, but in the strength and might of the Lord. That is where freedom is found. The war has been won. Victory belongs to God. He is our refuge, our ever-present help in time of need.
No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. -1 Corinthians 10:13
No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. -1 Corinthians 10:13
Friday, March 14, 2014
I used to be a pit girl. I've kept it quiet for a long time, because I've been scared of what those who have never been in a pit may say or think. But for the sake of other pit people, it's time to come clean, because I know what it is like to find yourself in a pit and fear that you are all alone and that no one understands. So, for those of you who have never found yourself in a pit, I praise God for the testimony of faithfulness you have to the Lord. Thank you. For those of you who have since been rescued from the pit, I celebrate with you the victory you have found in Jesus as I hope you do with me. And for those of you who may still currently find yourself in a pit, I offer you encouragement that you are not alone. Though you may feel like you are, don't believe the lies that the enemy whispers to you. There are many of us who have been pulled up from the pit, and there is hope available for you, too. My heart aches in telling you that it may take reaching the lowest point of your pit to find rescue, but it is there for you, and when you finally find it, it is beautiful and redeeming, and I can't wait to rejoice with you as well! This is for you.
Before my pit days, I was a confident Christian. I was a spiritual leader and I enjoyed hearing what the Lord had to share with me. But very suddenly, all of that changed. I couldn't tell you exactly how or why, but it did. I began struggling with sin and doubt that have never had a place in my life before. I became distracted by other voices and before I knew it, I was digging myself into a pit, and I didn't know how exactly to put down the shovel.
Sometimes, I was ok with my pit-digging. It really wasn't a pit at the time; it was just a small hole. I enjoyed the release from trying so hard to be good. I liked getting a little dirty. But a lot of times, I was ashamed. I knew that I was being hypocritical. I was professing to live a clean life. I sang songs and prayed prayers and taught Scripture. No one knew I was digging myself a pit. But I knew. And God knew. And that was enough.
I knew that I was stuck, that I needed to get out, and that God was my only hope of doing so. But how could I face Him when I had completely rebelled and then lied about it to other people? I tried my hardest to make myself presentable enough to ask for His help. I tried to wipe off the dirt from my hands, but all I had available was my shirt. I tucked back the wisps of hair that had pulled themselves from my ponytail in all the strain and sweat. I even tried to pack down some of the dirt I had dug loose so I could stand a little taller in my pit, not so far down. I thought that, if I could show God how I was already working on getting myself out and making myself clean again, I would be a little more deserving of His help. But my denial of my current circumstances would not allow me to admit my need for complete rescue. So, I kept digging.
Soon, it began getting dark in my pit. As I dug deeper and deeper, it became harder for me to see the top. It was lonely and quiet in my pit, so I began to pay more attention to the words in my head than to the Words of the Father. These words told me I was hopeless. That I was not worthy of rescue. That this was my identity now; I had forfeited any other identity I once held. I was now a forever pit girl. And I believed them, because I had dug so far down, I could not hear anything else. So I kept digging. For three years, filled with fear and guilt and doubt, I kept digging.
And then, finally, I hit the bottom. I had not before realized the beauty of rock bottom, though, at the time, it only looked like despair. I put my shovel down for a rest. I had every intention of picking it back up again, but for the moment, I stopped to reflect at how far I had come. I strained my aching neck to arch upward, squinting to make out the top of my pit, now just a speck of light. And I realized in that moment, that though the words in my head told me that I could stop digging whenever I wanted and pull myself out, they were wrong. In fact, everything they had told me-about my circumstances, about myself, about God- had been wrong. I had been deceived. I looked down at my hands: the skin raw, bleeding, and blistered. I took notice of the stiff pain in my arms, my hunched back and my sore shoulders which I had grown so accustomed to. The words in my head told me this is where I belonged, that this is what I deserved. And they were right, because I'm the one who dug the pit in the first place. But I remembered life before the pit, and I longed to be back where I was before. I used to think that if I could prove to God that I was worthy of rescuing, then I could ask for help. But there, at the bottom of the pit, I knew that there was no amount of good I could do to could earn my rescue. So I did the only thing I could: I cried out to the Lord.
My voice was weak and shaky; it had been so long since I had used it. But He heard me. He heard my cry as I explained to Him my condition. He already knew the state I was in, but it was important for me to hear it myself. And as I admitted that I needed Him to rescue me from this pit that I was dying in, I saw it: the rope fell from the top of the pit right to where I was at to lift me out. Though my muscles were weak and my fingers swollen, I clung tightly to that rope, because I knew that this was my escape. I didn't know how deep my pit was until I was pulled back up through it, and as I was pulled closer and closer to the top, I found myself shielding my eyes from the light. I had grown so accustomed to the darkness at the bottom of my pit. Finally, I collapsed onto the cool, soft grass of level ground. There was clean air and wide open space and sunshine! Oh, the sunshine! I was finally free from my pit.
And this would have been enough, to just lie there at the edge of my pit, knowing that I was rescued undeservingly. But He did not leave me there raw and injured. Treating me with the gentlest care, He carried me back home, where He wiped away all of the dirt that was caked over my skin. He bandaged my blisters and massaged my sore muscles. He cut away the tattered fabric that had stuck itself to my body with sweat and dried blood and dressed me in new, better clothes. He combed through all the matted tangles of my hair and let me rest in His lap. And all the while, He never mentioned my pit. We both knew from where I came. There was no need to speak of it right now. Instead, He sang to me. He sang songs of healing and love and grace, and I finally found the satisfaction I had been seeking for so long.
I used to be a pit girl. Every once in awhile, I still hear the words in my head telling me to pick up a shovel again and dig a new pit. And sometimes, their words are so enticing that I almost believe them. But then I look at my hands and the scars and callouses that are left from my former pit days, and I remember that though that was my past, it is not my identity. I am a pit girl no longer.
He brought me up from a desolate pit, out of the muddy clay, and set my feet on a rock, making my steps secure. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. -Psalm 40:2-3
-------------------------------
Sometimes, I was ok with my pit-digging. It really wasn't a pit at the time; it was just a small hole. I enjoyed the release from trying so hard to be good. I liked getting a little dirty. But a lot of times, I was ashamed. I knew that I was being hypocritical. I was professing to live a clean life. I sang songs and prayed prayers and taught Scripture. No one knew I was digging myself a pit. But I knew. And God knew. And that was enough.
I knew that I was stuck, that I needed to get out, and that God was my only hope of doing so. But how could I face Him when I had completely rebelled and then lied about it to other people? I tried my hardest to make myself presentable enough to ask for His help. I tried to wipe off the dirt from my hands, but all I had available was my shirt. I tucked back the wisps of hair that had pulled themselves from my ponytail in all the strain and sweat. I even tried to pack down some of the dirt I had dug loose so I could stand a little taller in my pit, not so far down. I thought that, if I could show God how I was already working on getting myself out and making myself clean again, I would be a little more deserving of His help. But my denial of my current circumstances would not allow me to admit my need for complete rescue. So, I kept digging.
Soon, it began getting dark in my pit. As I dug deeper and deeper, it became harder for me to see the top. It was lonely and quiet in my pit, so I began to pay more attention to the words in my head than to the Words of the Father. These words told me I was hopeless. That I was not worthy of rescue. That this was my identity now; I had forfeited any other identity I once held. I was now a forever pit girl. And I believed them, because I had dug so far down, I could not hear anything else. So I kept digging. For three years, filled with fear and guilt and doubt, I kept digging.
And then, finally, I hit the bottom. I had not before realized the beauty of rock bottom, though, at the time, it only looked like despair. I put my shovel down for a rest. I had every intention of picking it back up again, but for the moment, I stopped to reflect at how far I had come. I strained my aching neck to arch upward, squinting to make out the top of my pit, now just a speck of light. And I realized in that moment, that though the words in my head told me that I could stop digging whenever I wanted and pull myself out, they were wrong. In fact, everything they had told me-about my circumstances, about myself, about God- had been wrong. I had been deceived. I looked down at my hands: the skin raw, bleeding, and blistered. I took notice of the stiff pain in my arms, my hunched back and my sore shoulders which I had grown so accustomed to. The words in my head told me this is where I belonged, that this is what I deserved. And they were right, because I'm the one who dug the pit in the first place. But I remembered life before the pit, and I longed to be back where I was before. I used to think that if I could prove to God that I was worthy of rescuing, then I could ask for help. But there, at the bottom of the pit, I knew that there was no amount of good I could do to could earn my rescue. So I did the only thing I could: I cried out to the Lord.
My voice was weak and shaky; it had been so long since I had used it. But He heard me. He heard my cry as I explained to Him my condition. He already knew the state I was in, but it was important for me to hear it myself. And as I admitted that I needed Him to rescue me from this pit that I was dying in, I saw it: the rope fell from the top of the pit right to where I was at to lift me out. Though my muscles were weak and my fingers swollen, I clung tightly to that rope, because I knew that this was my escape. I didn't know how deep my pit was until I was pulled back up through it, and as I was pulled closer and closer to the top, I found myself shielding my eyes from the light. I had grown so accustomed to the darkness at the bottom of my pit. Finally, I collapsed onto the cool, soft grass of level ground. There was clean air and wide open space and sunshine! Oh, the sunshine! I was finally free from my pit.
And this would have been enough, to just lie there at the edge of my pit, knowing that I was rescued undeservingly. But He did not leave me there raw and injured. Treating me with the gentlest care, He carried me back home, where He wiped away all of the dirt that was caked over my skin. He bandaged my blisters and massaged my sore muscles. He cut away the tattered fabric that had stuck itself to my body with sweat and dried blood and dressed me in new, better clothes. He combed through all the matted tangles of my hair and let me rest in His lap. And all the while, He never mentioned my pit. We both knew from where I came. There was no need to speak of it right now. Instead, He sang to me. He sang songs of healing and love and grace, and I finally found the satisfaction I had been seeking for so long.
I used to be a pit girl. Every once in awhile, I still hear the words in my head telling me to pick up a shovel again and dig a new pit. And sometimes, their words are so enticing that I almost believe them. But then I look at my hands and the scars and callouses that are left from my former pit days, and I remember that though that was my past, it is not my identity. I am a pit girl no longer.
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| http://cavenow.com/category/private/ |
Thursday, March 13, 2014
God,
My stomach churns at the thought of approaching You, because I know my sin, I despise my sin, yet I return to my sin as a dog returns to its vomit. And I keep coming back here hoping to find immediate release and freedom, but I think what I've actually been searching for is a clear conscience, not a clean heart.
God, I'm reading through Leviticus about all of the sacrifices that were made for sin, and I can't help but think, "If only there was something I could do, a sacrifice I could make, then all would be better and I would be forgiven." But You punished Israel's constant rebellion mixed with nonchalant ritualism, and as for me, the sacrifice has already been paid. The sacrifice has already been paid!
Even for these sins? Even for these broken commitments and false promises? Surely not, God. Surely, You only redeemed the life before I knew You. Now I am on my own, because now I know better.
God, I have forgotten Your gospel and grown numb to Your grace.
Help me, Lord. This is my honest prayer. Not some empty words strung together to try and win back Your affection; this is my prayer. Preach to me again Your gospel. Teach me how to live by grace. Break my bones and sing to me the soothing song of Your healing.
"Create in me a clean heart and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you. Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God, you who are God my Savior, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare Your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart You, God, will not despise." (from Psalm 51)
My stomach churns at the thought of approaching You, because I know my sin, I despise my sin, yet I return to my sin as a dog returns to its vomit. And I keep coming back here hoping to find immediate release and freedom, but I think what I've actually been searching for is a clear conscience, not a clean heart.
God, I'm reading through Leviticus about all of the sacrifices that were made for sin, and I can't help but think, "If only there was something I could do, a sacrifice I could make, then all would be better and I would be forgiven." But You punished Israel's constant rebellion mixed with nonchalant ritualism, and as for me, the sacrifice has already been paid. The sacrifice has already been paid!
Even for these sins? Even for these broken commitments and false promises? Surely not, God. Surely, You only redeemed the life before I knew You. Now I am on my own, because now I know better.
God, I have forgotten Your gospel and grown numb to Your grace.
Help me, Lord. This is my honest prayer. Not some empty words strung together to try and win back Your affection; this is my prayer. Preach to me again Your gospel. Teach me how to live by grace. Break my bones and sing to me the soothing song of Your healing.
"Create in me a clean heart and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. Then I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you. Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God, you who are God my Savior, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare Your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart You, God, will not despise." (from Psalm 51)
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
I read this post this week about comics that this guy does of "Deep Dark Fears." The pictures and ideas of gouged out eye balls and cut off fingers are enough to make you cringe. Something that most people don't know about me is that I struggle with fear. It's actually a more recent struggle and I'm not sure why it has waited until now to manifest, but sometimes it's so overwhelming, it makes me physically sick. My mind gets so full of... stuff... thoughts... that I have to audibly argue myself out of thinking those things that are not true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy (Phil. 4:8). But sometimes fighting becomes so hard that fear starts to slip in and take over.
Some of my fears are silly, like being attacked by a bird while walking to class or dropping a hot iron on my bare feet. Some of my fears are a little more serious, but I think are relatable, like the fear of being alone, fear of making the wrong choices, fear of failure. Some of my fears, though, have been so ridiculous, so outrageous, and yet so crippling to my spirit. I fear finding out I can't have children or falling into depression after I do have children. I fear losing my ability to make rational decisions and going insane. I fear getting in a car accident, so much so that I consistently have nightmares about it. I fear going to sleep because then I can't control what my mind thinks about or what fears will manifest in my dreams. Fear has consumed my life! It suffocates me. It burdens me emotionally, spiritually, and physically. It reminds me that I have no control and tells me that I will not be prepared for what may come. It busies my mind with what-if's. It steals attention away from joy and hope and gives it to anxiety and despair. I see my fear, and I recognize how irrational most of it is, how unhealthy it is, and I wonder how in the world I'm supposed to overcome it.
This year, in an effort to act less like a lazy bum, I've tried (tried being the operative word) to learn how to run. My routine consists of alternating between walking a quarter of a mile and then running the next quarter. Today, while on one of my walking-quarters, I thought about how much determination it takes to exercise. Even when you feel like giving up, you have to be willing to push further. You have to fight to keep going.
I do not possess this quality. (Actually, I think my exact thought this morning was "I would never make it on 'Biggest Loser.'") Exhaustion always does me in. When I don't feel like running anymore, I quit. When my mind becomes full of "stuff" and "thoughts," too often I give up and give in. But what does that leave me other than defeated? I think that what I've learned... what I'm learning is that I have to fight. I HAVE to fight! But how? What defense to I have against such strong, lethal weapons as fear and worry? Actually, I have the best defense ever. I have Truth. I have The Truth.
So what do I do when anxiety attacks? Well, there are several things:
1. I pray. I ask God to block such fears from entering my mind and poisoning my thoughts. I ask Him to fill me instead with His Word and His Spirit, which bring hope and joy and love and peace.
2. I speak truth. Sometimes I speak out loud. I repeat God's breathed-words. I tell myself to pause and consider what I know is true, not necessarily what I feel may be true.
3. I listen to truth. Sometimes I just have to pop in my ear buds and listening to edifying music, music that proclaims truth. I also take time to consider the truth which I have been taught in the past, whether through reading God's Word or through someone else's teaching.
4. I stop focusing on myself. When I think about myself, my circumstances, my future, then fear of the unknown, of the uncontrollable, starts to take over. So I force my attention toward the Lord, to what I know about His character, and to loving His people.
4. I drink tea. This has no spiritual significance. I just really like tea. It's like aromatic heart-warming calmness in a cup.
I know that am far from winning the battle over my fear. Even as I write this, I fight the urge to give in to my anxiety. But as I learn better how to rely on and depend on truth, I trust the Lord to bring victory. Even if it doesn't come as quickly as I want it to, I know that I must keep fighting. I cannot give up. I can't afford to give up.
"When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?" -Psalm 56:3-4
"The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid." -Psalm 118:6
"For God did not give us a spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control." -2 Timothy 1:7
"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." -1 John 4:18
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| http://deep-dark-fears.tumblr.com/ |
Some of my fears are silly, like being attacked by a bird while walking to class or dropping a hot iron on my bare feet. Some of my fears are a little more serious, but I think are relatable, like the fear of being alone, fear of making the wrong choices, fear of failure. Some of my fears, though, have been so ridiculous, so outrageous, and yet so crippling to my spirit. I fear finding out I can't have children or falling into depression after I do have children. I fear losing my ability to make rational decisions and going insane. I fear getting in a car accident, so much so that I consistently have nightmares about it. I fear going to sleep because then I can't control what my mind thinks about or what fears will manifest in my dreams. Fear has consumed my life! It suffocates me. It burdens me emotionally, spiritually, and physically. It reminds me that I have no control and tells me that I will not be prepared for what may come. It busies my mind with what-if's. It steals attention away from joy and hope and gives it to anxiety and despair. I see my fear, and I recognize how irrational most of it is, how unhealthy it is, and I wonder how in the world I'm supposed to overcome it.
This year, in an effort to act less like a lazy bum, I've tried (tried being the operative word) to learn how to run. My routine consists of alternating between walking a quarter of a mile and then running the next quarter. Today, while on one of my walking-quarters, I thought about how much determination it takes to exercise. Even when you feel like giving up, you have to be willing to push further. You have to fight to keep going.
I do not possess this quality. (Actually, I think my exact thought this morning was "I would never make it on 'Biggest Loser.'") Exhaustion always does me in. When I don't feel like running anymore, I quit. When my mind becomes full of "stuff" and "thoughts," too often I give up and give in. But what does that leave me other than defeated? I think that what I've learned... what I'm learning is that I have to fight. I HAVE to fight! But how? What defense to I have against such strong, lethal weapons as fear and worry? Actually, I have the best defense ever. I have Truth. I have The Truth.
So what do I do when anxiety attacks? Well, there are several things:
1. I pray. I ask God to block such fears from entering my mind and poisoning my thoughts. I ask Him to fill me instead with His Word and His Spirit, which bring hope and joy and love and peace.
2. I speak truth. Sometimes I speak out loud. I repeat God's breathed-words. I tell myself to pause and consider what I know is true, not necessarily what I feel may be true.
3. I listen to truth. Sometimes I just have to pop in my ear buds and listening to edifying music, music that proclaims truth. I also take time to consider the truth which I have been taught in the past, whether through reading God's Word or through someone else's teaching.
4. I stop focusing on myself. When I think about myself, my circumstances, my future, then fear of the unknown, of the uncontrollable, starts to take over. So I force my attention toward the Lord, to what I know about His character, and to loving His people.
4. I drink tea. This has no spiritual significance. I just really like tea. It's like aromatic heart-warming calmness in a cup.
I know that am far from winning the battle over my fear. Even as I write this, I fight the urge to give in to my anxiety. But as I learn better how to rely on and depend on truth, I trust the Lord to bring victory. Even if it doesn't come as quickly as I want it to, I know that I must keep fighting. I cannot give up. I can't afford to give up.
"When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?" -Psalm 56:3-4
"The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid." -Psalm 118:6
"For God did not give us a spirit of fear but of power and love and self-control." -2 Timothy 1:7
"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." -1 John 4:18
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