ADVENT. Defined as the arrival of a notable person, thing or event. Recognized by Christians as the first season of the Christian year. In other words, when it all began. The exact dates are the four preceding Sundays leading up to Christmas Day.
But it doesn’t end there. For the faithful the term also means the coming or second coming of Christ.
A lot of us have been looking for that lately. That second coming. A lot of Christians thought COVID-19 was the crack in the second coming curtain. The opening prologue. Some still think it is.
Having Jesus return now and being caught up in the clouds with Him and swept off to glory without having to suffer and die certainly seems a more appealing option than contracting and having to suffer through a near-deadly case of the disease, or having a family member or friend die of it. Of having to stay cloistered at home, out of touching range with family and friends, classmates, co-workers, birthday parties, funerals, graduations, church worship and Bible study gatherings.
Actually, it’s a more appealing option than life in a normal year.
A yearly reminder, and look to the future—
Regardless of whether or not this is THE year, (Hint: no one knows the time or the hour), Christians are always called to be ready, looking, working, preparing. As one of my favorite mugs says, “Perhaps Today.”
And it’s always a good thing to celebrate that first coming, the one that stood the world on its head over 2000 years ago. The celebration that reminds us of the Who, what and why of Christmas.
And then look to the future and celebrate Christ’s future return. Plan for the party. Keep busy preparing for it, inviting guests, getting them ready for the feast, rejoicing over our future hope.
Because either soon or soonish, or not as soon as we’d like, Jesus is coming back. He promised He would, and He told us to be watching for Him.
A personal advent—
This year I can certainly relate to that watching and waiting for a baby to arrive on the world’s stage.
On Mother’s Day, my older son stuck an ultrasound picture up in front of his computer camera during our Mother’s Day ZOOM meeting. My younger son and I immediately knew what it was. (The engineer, working without his close-range glasses, was a little slow to catch on.)
To say it was one of the best Mother’s Day presents EVER is an understatement. The other two were the ones immediately following my older and younger son’s births. Yet, now, there are no adequate words to describe the joy, and the heady anticipation of progeny.
We’ve waited and watched and looked for since that glorious May day, talking about due dates, shower gifts, baby paraphernalia needs, having another ZOOM meeting for the “It’s a Girl!” gender reveal, nail chewing during some blood pressure spikes, and the two and a half days it took for her to arrive after inducement.
We were on emotional pins and needles. And to an extent, we still are. We haven’t seen our beautiful granddaughter yet, but we will soon. With weighty expectations of holding her in our arms, singing to her, tracing nose and ears, touching and brushing silky cheeks, and feeling baby fingers looped around thumbs nearly make me swoon in ecstasy.
So, to some extent, we’re still waiting and watching, preparing. Expecting. With eyes and hearts wide open.
I shouldn’t be any different with my Lord’s return. Advent then. Advent future. Looking back and looking forward. Always watching, being prepared. Expectant. Cognizant of the signs of the times.
It’s easy to get jaded and do the same-old, same-old at Christmas. But I doubt anything will look the same to any of us this year.
And that’s probably a good thing.
Maybe a new, reinvigorated appreciation for the meaning of the day will emerge in our hearts and lives. We’ll be more grateful. More repentant and more forgiving. More joyful.
We’ll take a serious look at what we missed this year, and what we didn’t miss. And what we can now live without and can no longer live with.
And Who we need to bring sanity and peace to this insane and crumbling and ugly world.
The month of December—
It’s hard to fathom that this is likely my last post of this notorious year. It seems to have dragged on too long and also sped by. So much has happened—in the world, our nation, and in my family. But slinking toward its end, it is.
I’ll be taking December off, to enjoy that new grandbaby, my family, and life. To dig into Advent. To read the story again—the old one and the coming one. To prepare my heart, and offer thanks.
Because within both lies hope. The kind of hope only the King of Glory gives. A hope and a future.
Something everyone is craving right now.
Invitation—
I hope you have an advent study selected and are already into the celebration. But if not, and you’re looking for some weekly reads, you can access my Advent posts on my other blog “Broken Hearts, Redeemed.”
Until 2021, keep praying, keep preparing, and keep watching, waiting and expecting.
Perhaps today will be THE day!
And thank you, dear readers, for your support throughout this year. It hasn’t been easy or smooth sailing for anyone. And I appreciate you more than I can say.
Blessings and a Most Blessed Christmas to all of you!
Andrea
“Beloved, I pray that you prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers” (3 John).
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and recover from grief, loss and trauma.
I’m going to guess all of you reading this post have experienced a major life event you considered to be more of a thorn in your side than a blessing you’d give thanks for. No doubt 2020 has rocked your world with COVID-19 and maybe brought accompanied economic devastation.
It hasn’t been a normal year for anyone, or an easy year for many. We’ve all been turned on our heads to some degree.
It’s been a thorn.
We don’t like thorns. They’re sharp and often draw blood. They might leave bruises or infections that take time to heal. They certainly make life harder to handle.
But there are profound life-growing lessons to be learned from painful, blood-drawing thorns, and joy can result from them. For it’s in life’s thorns that we learn more about ourselves, become humbled, and learn how to persevere.
They can also—if you’re willing—turn us toward God and make us more reliant on Him.
But even with these thorns, we have so much to be thankful for. So I’m going to focus this post on our upcoming American holiday, Thanksgiving. It’s a special day to focus solely on giving thanks; a day set aside to express gratefulness with and for family and friends, even if you have to celebrate and thank them via ZOOM.
While we don’t often think about celebrating or giving thanks for the thorns in our lives, they may be the first and most important things we should look to and have at the top of our “I’m thankful for…” list.
Even the Pilgrims, who are officially credited with celebrating the first Thanksgiving nearly 400 years ago, (we were supposed to have a big 400th anniversary celebration for their arrival this year), had encountered thorns prior to that celebration. Deadly ones. And the fact that any of them were still alive to tell about it may be the reason they gave thanks.
Pilgrim basics: my heritage—
Thanksgiving is special to me. It should be, since I’m a direct descendant of two Pilgrims who sailed from England to America in 1620. Actually, one was an true Pilgrim (Separatist) and the other was a cooper (barrel maker) who evidently wanted a change of scenery and a new life in a new land.
The group was a little band of mostly like-minded pioneers who wanted to worship God without fear, persecution or worldly influence in a way of their choosing. They bravely sneaked away to England on a tiny ship after signing a contract with an English company to plunk down a colony on our shores and start successful trading and businesses.
(On a side note, don’t confuse Pilgrims—Separatists, who wanted to completely separate from the Church of England—and the Puritans, who wanted to transform and purify the Church from the inside.)
When I think about the accounts of that first Thanksgiving—the three-day feast the Pilgrims celebrated with the Wampanoag Indians—I wonder just how many of them were thinking: “I’m so thankful.”
As the History Channel’s website, history.org, states:
“As was the custom in England, the Pilgrims celebrated their harvest with a festival. The 50 remaining colonists and roughly 90 Wampanoag tribesmen attended the “First Thanksgiving.”
One of the attending Pilgrims noted a Pilgrim attendance of 53, but let’s not quibble in numbers.
It was customary for these English people to celebrate a bounty with a feast and recreational activities, so that’s what they did. Food and sport. And they invited the Indians. (Yes, they really did.)
They were grateful to the Indians, especially for one of them who intervened early and miraculously in their lives to teach them how to add fish to the soil to improve the growing conditions for a good harvest.
They hadn’t expected the poor soil conditions in Massachusetts. It was not where thy planned to land and live. Farther down the coast in Virginia was the landing plan, but they had arrived too late in the season and had to settle for the more northern location.
They also missed planting adequately for the growing season in cold, bitter Massachusetts with its poor crop-growing soil. Their food rotted and became infested with bugs. Then disease, starvation and freezing temperatures decimated most of their tiny band of 102 immigrants in the first six months.
And this is where it gets personal.
My great, great, great, great… Pilgrim grandmother, Priscilla Mullins, arrived at Plymouth in Massachusetts with her brother and their two parents, ready and likely excited to start a new life. But within months, the teenager’s mother, father, and 14-year old brother had succumbed to disease and starvation, leaving her alone with the other survivors, which included only three other women. Her family, along with the other dead, was buried in unmarked graves.
Priscilla was suddenly an orphan in a strange, scary land.
A year later, what could she have been thankful for?
Was she at all thankful for those torturous thorns in her life?
I can only speculate, but knowing that she was a devout follower of Jesus Christ, I’m going to guess that she had a few items on her thankful list.
My thorns—
About twenty years ago I started deliberately thanking God for the thorns He’s allowed me to get skewered by in my life. Why? Because it’s been in and through these thorns that I’ve grown the most emotionally and spiritually.
My thorns remind me that I’m really a helpless, puny human without much control over my life, although I often entertain, placate and blind myself by thinking I have more control over it than I do. The thorns keep my humble, relying on Someone greater than myself. The One who’s always in control. And that keeps me focused on and centered in my faith.
Surely, the memory and aftermath of being punctured by my thorns still hurts. After all, thorns do make you bleed. And they can leave nasty scars. Yet they have a tendency to remind you where you’ve ben, what you’ve survived, Who really got you through them, and where you should be going.
A (shocking?) admission—
What I’m going to write may shock or offend some of you, while others will nod their heads in collective sympathy and understanding.
As much as I still grieve and lament over my infant daughter, Victoria’s, death; as much as I still long to have her here with us; as much as I day-dream at every stage of life what she would look like and be doing, and mentally replay the dreams I had for her, I am grateful—thankful—that I walked that dark, horrible, thorn-ridden road. Because doing so brought me into a vivid, eternal life with the Supreme giver of life. A deeper, more fruitful, fulfilling and joyful life in the here and now, and in the eternal.
I’d like to think that it really didn’t need to happen that way. But in my heart, I know it did. I would have kept going just as I was, with one foot in the world and the other on a spiritual banana peel.
I’m thankful for those thorns. They remind me to Whom I belong, to Whom Victoria belongs. And they remind me that I will one day see my daughter face-to-face. And I will rejoice that we’ll spend eternity together. They give me one more reason to look forward to heaven.
Each year I move closer to that precious reunion celebration.
And give thanks.
Back to my Pilgrim family—
So what was Priscilla Mullins thankful for that cold fall day?
I can only guess.
Even though she was a firm believer in God, His word, and His promises, I suspect she went through the normal stages of grief all of us encounter: shock, fear, denial, anger, depression, exhaustion. Being a Christian doesn’t make you immune to suffering the effects of losing a loved one, of experiencing profound loss.
Being a Christian does mean, however, that you experience something in addition.
It means you grieve with hope, rather than without it.
Your grief is hopeful, not hopeless.
Priscilla may have sat at the table, thanking God for His protection over her and the other survivors, for the memory of her parents and brother, for the hope of the future, and probably for the new man in her life—John Alden, with whom she would have 10 children and produce more descendants in the United States than any other Pilgrims.
I often think of her and wonder if her unwavering faith and prayers for her children and children’s children paved the way for the blessings I’ve received in my life. Many of my blessings may be the result of her generational faithfulness.
For that, I also give thanks.
As my older son once said to me while he was in college, after making some big mistakes and suffering for them, and struggling against events not in his control: “I wouldn’t change a thing about my life. I don’t regret any of the mistakes or the problems. Because they all make me the person I am today.
And that person he is today just became a first-time father last Thursday morning to a beautiful, precious baby girl. Another descendant who made me a grandma.
I have been praying for this baby—Baby Ellie—for months. My heritage, my reward.
I’m counting a plentitude of blessings this year.
And I’m sure you can count both thorns and beauty in your life this Thanksgiving!
Invitation—
What the thorns you’ve experienced in life?
Did you consider these thorns blessings in any way?
How is it possible for you to be thankful for them?
How did God see you through them so they might become a blessing?
Next week, we’ll look at Advent and the importance of celebrating the coming of Christ more than two thousand years ago, and His future coming.
Until then, may joy and thanks abound this Thanksgiving Day. I’m going to guess you’ll never forget your 2020 Day of Thanks!
Blessings,
Andrea
“Beloved, I pray that you prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers” (3 John).
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and recover from grief, loss and trauma.
IN OUR RECENT GRIEF RECOVERY discussions, we’ve looked at the significance of apologies and forgiveness. Today we’ll look at how significant emotional statements fit into the successful relationship review and grief pain completion.
Significant emotional statements: otherwise known as really important stuff you need to say.
What is a significant emotional statement?
A significant emotional statement (SES) is defined as anything of emotional value that doesn’t count as an apology or forgiveness. It’s any comment communicating something important; anything important that was said or left unsaid before someone died, or before a significant relationship (marriage, friendship) ended.
Examples of significant emotional statements—
A SES could be statements like:
You were such a good husband, who made me laugh and enjoy life.
I wish that we would have been given more time together.
I wish you would have gone to the doctor sooner. Maybe treatment given sooner would have helped.
I love you, and I know how much you loved me.
I’m grateful for the full life we lived together.
I loved your belly laughs and loving eyes and touch.
I’ll miss having breakfast with you every morning, praying with you and discussing our plans for the day.
I’ll miss lying in bed with you, holding one another, thanking God for the blessings in our life.
I wish we had done a better job of making this marriage work.
I thought our marriage was for better or for worse; that we’d be together until death do us part.
I don’t know what happened for you to end our friendship. I wish you’d tell me so I could make it right.
Significant emotional statements are statements conveying your emotional attachments or a feeling, regret, love, desire, hope and expectation.
It’s anything you feel should have been said or should be communicated now.
Every relationship is unique, to you—
Understanding and appreciating that every relationship is unique to a person is important, and it affects your significant emotional statements and the statements of others grieving the loss of the same person.
How often have you told a story and your significant other or sibling loudly proclaims: “No, that’s not how it happened!” And they proceed to tell their version of the story and correct yours.
But that’s the point. It’s usually their version of the story they’re telling. Their personal memories, from their point of view. And their emphasis on events and feelings is likely to be much different than yours; their experience will be different.
A grieving son will have different emotional experiences about his father than his grieving mother has about her husband. The grieving sister will have different feelings than her grieving brother.
We need to be extra careful not to plant our feelings into the hearts and minds of others grieving the same loss. Or plant feelings of a loss we’ve experienced into the hearts and minds of a friend’s loss.
The death of one mother’s child will not be experienced the same way the death of another mother’s child will be felt.
When significant emotional statements need to be followed by forgiving ones—
You’ll find that some significant emotional statements should naturally be followed up with apologies or forgiving statements. Let’s look at some of the above examples.
I love you, and I know how much you loved me, might be followed by “I should have told you more how much you meant to me. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
I wish we had done a better job of making this marriage work. This might have the statement: “I’m sorry for being unforgiving and not working harder on our marriage.” Or: “I forgive you for giving up so easily on us.”
The point is that if a negative statement is made, it should be followed up with a statement of forgiveness. Only then will grief completion be possible.
What about fond memories—
By all means, put fond memories on the list and make statements about them.
They could be thank you statements, specific memories of good times, significant life events. Things you especially appreciated about the person’s character or personality.
Is a significant emotional statement the end of it?
So you’ve written down a list of statements. Is that it? Are you done?
Not quite. We have to put all of these statements together, and remember that just because we do it successfully doesn’t mean we’ll never think about, talk about, or long for the person again.
BUT BEWARE!
Do not skip the forgiveness statements. An unforgiving spirit and withholding forgiveness “is the largest stumbling block to successful completion of the pain caused by loss.” (Grief Recovery Institute)
As I’ve said before, please don’t fall into the trap of believing that forgiveness condones hurtful behavior. Those thoughts and actions curtail and hinder a potentially lifesaving action.
“A lack of forgiveness always imprisons the wrong person.”
I would add that it always damages your heart.
It leaves you in the state of perpetual victimhood, constantly reminding yourself of the painful things, the unfairness of things that happened a very long time ago.
Putting it all together—
Putting all these components together gives you the freedom to move on to and achieve grief completion. It’s the catalyst for healing, like when a surgeon re-sets a bone to straighten it out so it can heal. And a physical therapist gives you exercises to complete the healing to return you to a full life.
Invitation—
Examine your heart deeply. Are there people in your life you haven’t truly forgiven for their actions? How can you take concrete and effectual steps today to do that?
Is there someone you’ve recently lost who you wanted to say something more to, either before their passing or now? Write these down.
Is there someone you’ve lost to death or lost as a friend that you can and would like to make a significant emotional statement to? Write those statements down.
This can be a time of wonderful memories flooding your heart and mind. Even if they cause you to grieve again, consider the fond memories blessings of a life well lived.
NEXT WEEK: Moving from discovery to completion!
Until then, write down those significant, fond memories and add them to your apologies and forgiving statements.
Blessings,
Andrea
“Beloved, I pray that you prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers” (3 John).
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She mentors people in how to thrive physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and recover from grief, loss and trauma.
Just when my heart felt as though it was healing a bit, pain tore through it again on Saturday, August 22 as we sad goodbye to my younger son’s dog Hami and helped him pass peacefully over the Rainbow Bridge.
We were, and remain, heartbroken. As anyone who has loved and nurtured a canine companion knows, the pet’s passing tears open a wound in your heart and life. Schedules and daily routines are warped. Attention focuses disappear. Wet noses, happy tongue slurps and silky fur strokes disappear. Even other pets in the house grieve and whimper as they scour the house looking for their companion.
Try as I might, I couldn’t function or concentrate well enough this past week to work on anything other than my upcoming manuscript. So I am using this post to honor Hami, who has been laid to rest near my citrus trees (where he reveled in nosing around and digging up beetle grubs).
I’m honoring him by printing the story I wrote about him that appeared in the recently released (last month) Chicken Soup for the Soul book, The Magic of Dogs.
Here is “Transforming Hami” in its entirety.
Transforming Hami
Hamilton von Watts was the last dog I would have adopted. When we first saw him, the big German Shorthaired Pointer/black Lab mix lay abjectly in his cage. A yellow identification tag noted his name.
But I wasn’t going to have much say in the adoption matter. This was going to be our thirteen-year-old son’s dog, and he was doing the selecting. I groaned when Cory asked the shelter employee to let Hamilton out of the cage to visit with him.
The seventeen-month-old mutt looked worse on inspection—filthy, with open wounds and a battalion of ticks. Touching his punctured ear elicited a sharp whine; patting him produced a dust cloud. His puffed right eye oozed, and he emitted an odious scent. But I could see the love pass between Cory and Hamilton when their eyes locked.
And then Hami plucked our heartstrings by flashing a toothy smile, a grin he produced by wrinkling up his nose, and baring his brilliant white teeth and chomping them together several times. An energetic snort punctuated each chomp. He even mustered enough pizzazz to happily paw the air. I could almost hear him cry out, “Please give me a chance!”
An hour later, after Cory and my husband, Chris, filled out the paperwork and plunked down the money for him, Hami bounded around the back of our Suburban. He seemed so grateful. I, however, remained dubious.
Hami’s introduction to our home was rough. He charged our cat, Tibbs, who attempted a warm nose-to-nose welcome. Our Queensland Heeler, Sydney, gave us an alarmed, now-you’ve- ruined-the-neighborhood look.
And while he clearly adored Cory, he cowered and scampered away from our eighteen- year-old son Parker and his buddies and acted anxious around Chris. When Chris removed his belt while undressing, Hami bolted from him. When friends visited, the sixty-five-pound dog growled and hid behind my legs or beneath my skirt. His legs quivered as he peered out at intruders. When frightened, which happened often, he urinated on the floor.
Hami was also undisciplined. He ignored commands and boundaries and led us on lengthy hunting expeditions for him through our hilly, cactus-filled neighborhood. A frequent refrain around our house was “Cory, come get your dog!”
I felt guilty about my uncharitable feelings, but Hami aggravated me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like dogs. Chris and I had cared for six of them so far during our marriage. And Chris said he knew I was “the one” because I was the only female his Border Collie, Felina, had ever liked.
But I liked high-IQ, compliant dogs. Classy dogs with manners and respect for my personal space. Not unruly dogs who barreled into rooms, knocking things—and me—over. I tried to avoid him, but as much as I tried, he insisted on following me around like a
sheep to a shepherd. He got underfoot when I worked in the kitchen. When he’d had enough roughhousing with Chris and the boys, he’d scurry away from them and lean against me for protection. I’d shoo the guys away and tell them sternly that the dog had had enough.
He seemed so grateful for everything I did for him, no matter how small it was—stroke his back, acknowledge his presence, or feed him. He’d give me that big, chompy smile and slurpy kiss and then tap dance in front of me.
I think Hami knew his perseverance would wear me down eventually. His smile, gratitude and amusing antics chipped away at my defenses. I couldn’t keep my heart from surrendering to this hurt dog. But my rigid brain needed coaxing to follow suit. I wrestled against frustration and expectations, prayed for divine patience, and changed my behavior.
Instead of avoiding Hami, I gritted my teeth and embarked on a mission to uncover his potential. I knew it had to be there under all that fear and pain. But could the trauma be undone?
I instructed Chris and the boys to top his kibble with nutrient-packed chicken and duck eggs. Cory spent hundreds of dollars of his own money to heal Hami’s wounds and eradicate his external and internal vermin. We lavished love and attention on him and made sure we avoided his anxiety triggers. When I sat on the floor next to him and massaged the right hip that caused him to limp and whine so much, he’d heave exaggerated sighs and lick my face. It took weeks of scrubbing ground-in grime from his broken body to uncover his sleek, dark chocolate coat.
And with all that love and attention, a miracle occurred. As the grime washed away, and his body and heart healed, Hami transformed. His formerly ragged coat glistened in the sunshine. He started trusting and obeying. His once fearful eyes emitted security. And he gained confidence in himself.
He started doing surveillance patrols around the house. He learned his boundaries and responded to commands. He became comfortable with our friends and made the rounds among them for fanny scratches and ear rubs. Every morning, primed to enjoy another day, he smiled and tap danced. In fact, he smiled all the time—when he went outside and when he was invited back in; when he was fed; and when he got leashed up for a walk. The refrain around our house became “Everyone should be as happy as Hami.” Even Sydney started to pal around with him.
In the process, I realized I was learning from Hami.
He taught me to be eternally grateful for everything, even the small things. Especially the small things. And to lighten up. He’d wheedled the dormant Type B personality out of me, the one I had long ago discarded. In the chaotic swirl of wifedom, motherhood and work, I’d become uptight, rigid, and preoccupied by trivial things. Hami re-directed my attention and taught me to smile at each new day.
And I’m still learning.
The ravages of time and a neurological disease wasting his hind leg muscles have taken their toll. But thirteen-year-old Hami is teaching me how to decline physically and age gracefully. I’m taking notes:
If you feel inclined, sleep a little more, and make the most out of what you can do when the body parts are limbered up and operating properly, which may take a while after a nap.
Don’t be too proud to let someone help you stand upright to get moving. Hobble outside to do your business, bark at the Amazon Prime guy, and soak up the sunshine. Life is good.
If you forget the rules and do something wrong, give your person a brilliant smile and bury your head in their lap. It works every time.
Never let your infirmities steal your gratefulness.
Not long ago, I gazed into Hami’s clouded eyes, cupped his gray muzzle in my hands, and thanked him for what he’d done and for being patient with me. He heaved a sigh, plopped onto the floor next to me and fell asleep, seemingly satisfied that I’d understood his purpose. Cory’s selection had been divinely directed. Love and patience had transformed Hami—and me.
—Andrea Arthur Owan—
I’m looking forward to being reunited with this special dog on the other side of the Bridge.
Until next week, when we’ll return to the next post in our grieving recovery series, love your pets well and thank God every day for them.
Blessings,
Andrea
“Beloved, I pray that you prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers” (3 John).
I know you already know this, but 2020 has been an unbelievable, and rough year. Pent-up emotions unleashed, brutality on display over and over and over again in living color, anger and resentment driving people to vengeful behavior.
Within and amidst all this chaos, how can and does one find peace?
Not temporary peace that ebbs and flows with beautiful or ugly reality, but the kind of peace that comes and stays and quiets your heart in the midst of pain, injustice, and grief.
Perfect peace.
Dr. Don Colbert recently had a great blog post about finding peace and purpose in these unsettling times, and I’d like to use some of his post highlight concrete ways to find peace right now. Some of them we’ve recently discussed that I’d like to re-emphasize.
Read on to discover 10 tips to finding peace in the chaos.
Name the source of your anger, fear, anxiety, pain—
It’s okay to be angry about something, or with someone. But often we feel angry about “something” without really knowing what that “something” is.
A big part of being able to find peace is naming the source of your anger, fear, anxiety or pain. Naming it gives you opportunity to confront it and understand it.
This is where journaling comes in, which we’ve talked a lot of about in the last several posts. Not only is it okay to journal, it’s healing to do so.
Thankfully, our Heavenly Father isn’t put off by our anger. He even demonstrated His own righteous anger when He cleared the temple of what He called “a den of thieves.” Thieves that made it impossible for people to reach and worship Him.
And the Bible is full of verbalized complaints, anger, frustration, pain and questions. Just read the Psalms, and Job.
Name the source to gain control over it. Just ranting and crying out to God about it helps unload it and qualify it. While He may not agree with your limited assessment about the cause, He will listen and guide you in your thinking and healing.
Remember who is ultimately in control—
Although we certainly are surprised, God isn’t surprised by any of this. And that’s good for us, because He alone knows why it’s happening, (He sees what’s really going on behind the scenes and reads hearts), and He alone is the One who can give direction for leading us into greener pastures everyone can enjoy, rest in and feast upon.
It does a turmoil-filled heart good to remind itself of that.
If you want answers, go to the source of the right questions. The One who can give you the results you seek. And talk and listen to Him in prayer and meditation.
As a friend of ours likes to say, “Pray and pray often.”
He loves you and wants to hear from you. Often.
Focus on God’s power and promises—
The Bible is loaded with reminders and proofs of God’s power, promises and provisions, and it’s important to pick out a few verses to remind yourself of that.
Some of the passages Dr. Colbert presented are good ones to keep in mind.
“…be anxious about nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).
“Jesus said unto him, ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets’” (Matt 22:34-40).
“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:8-12).
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him” (John 3:16-17).
Another passage I’ve used as a foundation for my life is Joshua 1:9:
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”
But the passage before it sets up this command, and it’s worth noting:
“This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate in it day and night, that you may observe to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.”
Do you see it?
There is an if-so-then-that set up. If you read God’s word, meditate in it and try to commit your life to it, then you’ll be more able to prosper and find success in life.
Does hard work always guarantee success? No, because evil works all around us, seeking our failure. And our fallen human condition makes us broken and weak.
We are big sinners in need of a big savior. And we have one in Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah.
One last passage I’ll note that is particularly pertinent right now:
“He has shown you, O man, what is good;
And what does the LORD require of you
But to do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly with your God” Micah 6:8)?
How much different would our world and lives look if we:
Loved the Lord our God with all our hearts, minds, and souls?
Loved our neighbors as we love ourselves?
Didn’t melt down in anxiety about anything, but, instead, took all of our anxieties to the Lord and prayed continually—with thanksgiving—about it?
Remember that God loves the WHOLE WORLD (that He created), and everyone in it and made the ultimate sacrifice to have a relationship with us?
Remember the Lord is compassionate, gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in love toward us?
Act toward others the same way He acts toward us?
Use these truths to pray through and out of your anxiety—
As the famous Nazi concentration campus survivor, Corrie Ten Boom, said,
“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength.”
Prayer fills out hearts and minds with strength. It can restore our joy.
Take your thoughts captive—
You can talk yourself into almost anything, including fear and anxiety. So it’s important to be able to talk yourself out of them, into gratitude, contentment and joy.
Again, prayer can do that, as you take every time and energy-wasting thought to God and ask Him to do something about it. Ask Him to remove it. Give it away to Him to deal with.
He’ll know what to do with it. You can trust Him on this.
Take action in your own life and on behalf of others—
Nothing stops you from spending too much time thinking about yourself and wallowing in your own problems or negativity than to re-focus on others and their needs.
Put your energies into positive actions.
There are a lot of injustices in this world. Look around and identify one you want to pour your energies into and rectify.
What can you write about? What can you volunteer to do to help alleviate suffering and pain?
If you’re unsure, pray about that too. God will open your eyes to needs in your community. He’ll use your gifts to work to right wrongs, to stand up against prejudice and greed and all manner of evil.
And while you’re going about it, make sure you pray for the people you’re standing against. It will calm and open your heart toward them. Help diffuse tensions and open up lines of communication.
It’s very difficult to be angry with someone you’re praying for.
Keep a gratitude journal—
Every day write down 3 things you’re grateful for; or at least thank God for them in prayer. Doing that opens your heart to receive joy and peace for the good things in your life.
And not stress so much on the things you don’t have and wish you did.
Make sure you do your deep breathing exercises—
As part of your daily meditation, make sure you do your breathing exercises that I highlight in this post
People who do these breathing exercises and meditate experience more peace and gratitude, have less anxiety, and live longer.
Make sure you nourish your body—
Keep your body nourished with good, natural food, the right amount of sleep, fresh air, and exercise.
All these ingredients are critical to good brain function and emotional, physical and spiritual health.
Spend quality (and quantity) time with loved ones—
Even though it’s more difficult right now, make sure you carve out time for loved ones. Doing so releases the hormone oxytocin, a natural stress-relieving chemical.
Petting your cat or dog does the same thing, as does looking into someone’s eyes, (even your dog or cat’s eyes), receiving or giving a hug, laughing with someone. Sitting close to them. Touching one another.
Even though it’s difficult to do right now, make good, strong eye contact with people. Even with a mask on, you can usually tell when their eyes sparkle from a smile, a kind word, a joyful encounter.
And I’ve gotten braver, as I’ve hugged several friends I hadn’t seen in months or over a year. Mask on, I’ve put my whole strength into my brief hug, and I’ve enjoyed a enveloping hug in return. Just giving and receiving one makes you laugh with joy and relief.
Am I foolish and reckless for doing it? Perhaps. But I’ve decided that life really isn’t worth living without a hug or two; and—especially because one of my love languages is touch, and I grew up in the land of hugs (Hawaii)—my mental and emotional health require it.
So I hug, while praying that God will protect me from deadly viruses and germs.
As you go forward this week, I want to leave you with two things that have lifted my spirit and given me more joy and peace.
Lockdown
Yes there is fear.
Yes there is isolation.
Yes there is panic buying.
Yes there is sickness.
Yes there is even death.
But,
They say that in Wuhan, after so many years of noise,
You can hear the birds again.
They say that after just a few weeks of quiet,
The sky is no longer thick with fumes
But blue and grey and clear.
They say that in the streets of Assisi
People are singing to each other
across the empty squares,
keeping their windows open
so that those who are alone
may hear the sounds of family around them.
They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland
is offering free meals and delivery to the
housebound.
Today a young woman I know
is busy spreading fliers with her number
through the neighbourhood
So that the elders may have someone to call
on.
Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and
Temples
are preparing to welcome
and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary.
All over the world people are looking at their
neighbours in a new way.
All over the world people are waking up to a
new reality.
To how big we really are.
To how little control we really have.
To what really matters.
Love.
So we pray and we remember that
Yes there is fear.
But there does not have to be hate.
Yes there is isolation.
But there does not have to be loneliness.
Yes there is panic buying.
But there does not have to be meanness.
Yes there is sickness.
But there does not have to be disease of the
soul.
Yes there is even death.
But there can always be a rebirth of love.
Wake to the choices you make as to how to
live now.
Today, breathe.
Listen, behind the factory noises of your
panic
The birds are singing again.
The sky is clearing,
Spring is coming,
And we are always encompassed by Love.
Open the windows of your soul
And though you may not be able
to touch across the empty square,
Sing.
Fr. Richard Hendrick, OFM
March 13, 2020
Until next week, when we’ll continue our grief myth discussion,
may you be filled to overflowing with joy, peace, and abundant blessings!
Andrea
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a fitness pro, senior-ordained chaplain, and award-winning inspirational writer. She works and writes to help people recover from trauma, grief and loss and to live their best lives — physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and recover from grief, loss and trauma.
