Untangled

Vanessa Foster-Whiddon

Spiritual Health

How I See Me

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Today’s topic is not normally something I write about and I am surprised at the amount of thought I have put into it. Let’s think about body image. I need you to know that this topic comes with a warning label. First, I am not an expert nor have I arrived at perfect peace in my own body. Second, if this topic is a huge trigger for you, may I suggest that you find a trusted friend you can read it with? (Or not read it at all. It won’t hurt my feelings.) Third, I believe this is a message that everybody (pun intended) needs to hear. With that being said, let’s jump in.

I sometimes like to dip my pinky toe into pop culture, if only to see how uncool I have become. Most of the time I can read a few headlines or listen to a few songs and feel I am barely caught up in this dystopian world. The other day I listened to a song that said “I can’t help thinking that she’s got a better body / Oh she’s got a better body than mine.” The song is based on the death of a relationship and the speaker believes it ended because her body is lacking something that the “other girl” has. Maisie Peters’ new album is all about heartache and breakups. I don’t question that Peters deals with body image issues, but let’s be honest – she has a body that most girls idolize. People want to be her, look like her, and even she is singing that her body is not good enough. Peters performs her art in front of an open curtain with self-hatred vibrating off the walls. “Oh, she’s got a better body than mine.”

I did a quick Google search of some well-loved pop stars. We can read headlines and interviews and see how badly the world’s idols are struggling.

Ariana Grande talks about a time in her life when everyone was applauding her weight and thought her to be healthy. Her response was, “I was on a lot of antidepressants and drinking on them and eating poorly and at the lowest point of my life when I looked the way you consider me healthy.”

Taylor Swift talks about not even wanting to look at her body. “It’s not good for me to see pictures of myself every day. It’s only happened a few times, and I’m not in any way proud of it. A picture of me where I feel like I looked like my tummy was too big, or someone said that I looked pregnant and that’ll just trigger me to just starve a little bit—just stop eating.”

Demi Lovato says that at the height of her body issue, “I used to have people watching me the night before a photo shoot to make sure that I didn’t binge or eat and be swollen the next day.”

There are plenty of stories of people in these bodies that we idolize, struggling to keep up with what we worship. We say it all the time. “You LOOK so good!” It feels good to hear and it feels kind to say. We wait for the approval of our bodies, especially if great effort and time have gone into changing them. Harmless right? What about the girl who runs miles so the compliments never end? What about the young adults missing meals in fear of a love interest getting bored? What about the girl who never hears those words? Some moms can’t bounce back after the third baby and are envious of those who can. Some middle-aged women can’t get those extra 15 pounds off. We watch from the sidelines as a woman gets praised – “You LOOK so good!” – after she has somehow reached “the goal.” We so often compare our body shape to another, either to boast our egos or remind us we are not quite worthy enough. The scale and our shape have become our gods. We are rapidly being tricked out of a life of abundance.

I want to tell you a story about a woman named Eve. She lived in a lavish garden and she lacked nothing. Although she lacked nothing, she was convinced by a very witty creature that the owner of the garden was in fact keeping things from her. The creature waited till Eve was all alone and he told her subtle lies. He distorted the facts and convinced her to question things she knew to be true. He told her she could be better than what she already was if she would just take the one thing in the garden the owner told her not to take. She turned her face toward the object and the story tells us, “She saw…” She turned her eyes and she LOOKED at the object. It was pleasing to look at and it promised so much potential for her. All the things the creature made her believe she lacked were now at her fingertips. She looked, she desired, and she took… only what she was left with was not what she was promised.

This story may seem simple, common, even childish, but this same story is playing on repeat in our minds today. We have become so used to it that it’s now permanent background noise. We don’t think twice when we LOOK in the mirror and the accuser tells us that what we see is not good enough. We SEE someone’s social media post and think, “If I would eat better, I can be that.” We LOOK at the girl running on the street and, even though we are bone-tired and running on fumes, we think “I should be doing that.” We LOOK at our soft curves and think that until they are gone we are not worthy, likable, attractive, or enough. We look at our already-thin bodies but see them as not yet worthy of approval. The lies run on repeat in our thoughts, on our screens, and in the songs we listen to. People spend hours thinking about being smaller, stronger, more lean, and so on. It has, in fact, become a god. It is the thing we think will make our lives different and it’s right there, right at our fingertips. But my question is, will it? Or will it leave us empty and wanting more?

As a Christian, I try to understand my life through the council of the word of God. The source of these negative, self-defeating thoughts is an accuser who is looking for the one he can deceive. He whispers half-truths to us. He spins the story. He convinces us, he distracts us, and gives a gentle push to the thing he promises will make life better. The deceiver’s plan is to take what God says is good – like your body – and convince you it’s not. He has come to steal, kill, and destroy and his plan is working terrifyingly well when it comes to body image.

Our bodies are a good thing from a good Father. We should nourish them, move them, and tend to them. We should in no way make those activities an idol. It should not become a thing that takes all of our attention, all of our focus. It cannot be the thing that drives us when we wake or when we go to sleep. I have been in this place before. Fitness, food, and my body became an idol at one point in my life. I was small but I wanted to be smaller. I was strong but needed to be stronger. I wanted those things in my life more than I wanted holy things. It left me feeling never good enough. It was like a mountaintop I could not reach.

Today I try to choose to listen to things that help me celebrate that my body is first a temple of a holy God. I choose when I look at another woman not to judge her by her shape. I resist the temptation to size myself up to her. I choose to take my thoughts captive when I look in the mirror and I want to say something negative about my body. I replace those thoughts with the truth of who I am.

Who I am has nothing to do with the shape of my body.
Who you are has nothing to do with the shape of your body.

I could write page after page on this topic but I’ll simply leave you with this:

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.

Proverbs 4:23

Let us see to it that the things we let enter our hearts are true, that we make no room for hate of ourselves or anyone else.

Keep your mouth free of perversity; keep corrupt talk far from your lips.

Proverbs 4:24

May we talk about our bodies as a gift. Even in this fallen world, marred by sin and sickness, may we celebrate what our bodies can do today. Your body is not the enemy… don’t spend your life hating it or trying to change it.

Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you.

Proverbs 4:25

All it takes is one LOOK and one THOUGHT for us to be derailed. “ She looks better.” “I want to be her.” “She has it all.” We look, we desire, and we are led to believe we are not enough. May we not use other women as objects to distract us.

Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways.

Proverbs 6:26

We are each on our own path. Everyone of us has struggles. We believe the lie that says, “She has it better.” Your place on this path is worthy. Changing places changes locations, but not our heart. Be steadfast where you are. Turn off the music. Unfollow people. Unplug. Grow in the Lord. Nourish your body. Take walks. Be in nature. Celebrate who you are and where you are. You just may find how much you are loved and love yourself back.

Taste and SEE that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Psalm 34:8

To the Other Side

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A decade ago I stood in front of a group of women and told my story of fighting intense thoughts and panic attacks for years. That day I read Mark 4, with special emphasis on verse 35: “On that day, when evening came, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’” I said, “Even in my anxious state, I believed God would bring me to the other side.” I felt in my inner being that God would indeed bring me to the other side of my fragile mental state, but at that point, he had not. It was a simple message of faith. As months passed without any change, I fought the urge to believe God was distant and unconcerned with my struggles.

In Mark 4, there was a large crowd gathering around Jesus. They had seen and heard of his miracles and wanted more. In response to the pressure of the crowd, he jumped into a nearby boat and taught from the water. As evening came Jesus was tired and looked at his disciples, saying “Let us go to the other side.” They untied the boat and set out to go across the Sea of Galilee. Approximately 13 miles long and eight miles wide, it’s a fairly small sea. It is often called a lake. The disciples spent many hours on this lake. They made a living on it and traveled by it. They were well aware that a storm could start at any time. The low-lying sea and surrounding hills subjected it to sudden and violent weather. This evening, that happened. The boat filled with water as it was tossed about by a powerful storm. I imagine the guys shouting over the storm. A few certainly tried to control the boat while others tried to shovel water out of the boat. At what point do you think they looked around and said “Where is Jesus?”

Mark tells us that during all this, Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. Sleeping? Did he not feel the storm? Did he not hear the commotion up front? The big question the disciples asked after they woke him was, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He stood to his feet from his exhausted slumber. “He got up, rebuked the wind, and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’”

“Quiet! Be still!” These are the same words Jesus used to address a demon later on. His words are geared toward something hostile. He commands more than just the wind and the waves. His command is to the unseen that plans to uproot the foundation of faith among his disciples. Jesus’ command demands instant results. “Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.”

It’s like Jesus spoke and his words smothered the storm with peace. Storms like this don’t instantly die down; they take time. The wind still blows and the waves still toss about… but not after the God who made them spoke. Everything was silent as the disciples looked on. Jesus then turns to them and says “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

I was recently on the shore of Galilee in the small town of Capernaum. The spot where I sat could have been near the location where Jesus and the disciples left before the storm started. In my pocket, I had a small set of beads with a cross on them. When I was in the city of Jerusalem a few days earlier a man from a local shop gave them to me. As I sat on a rock, looking across the sea, I pulled the beads out of my pocket and dipped them in the water.

It took me years to understand what “going to the other side” looked like for me. It is still unfolding before me. This journey we call life is not straightforward and often makes little sense to us. Mark 4 could have read “It was evening and Jesus and the disciples were tired. Jesus, knowing a storm was coming, said ‘Let’s sleep here tonight and tomorrow we will go to the other side.’” They could have slept in comfort but missed seeing the God of the universe working on their behalf. Only through the power of a storm dying down can the discipline ask “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

My intrusive thoughts stayed with me even after speaking to that group of ladies. I thought everything I said to those ladies was a lie. The storm kept raging and the Lord wasn’t taking me to the other side. I feared that he was, indeed, asleep. My question was just like the disciples’. In my moment of panic, I looked for him and said “Don’t you care that I am drowning?”

My faith was surpassed by my fear. That happens a lot. Our present problem becomes a storm and as we’re tossed around in the middle of it, we are unsure whether God will show up. As the raging wind surrounded me and waves of doubt crashed into me in the late night hours, I lay on the floor once again asking God to show up. As I drowned in a pool of thoughts in the depths of my mind, I cried out, “God where are you?” Once again the wind did not go away. As my heart tossed wildly in the night hours, something settled over me. Even while my breath was caught in my chest, my stomach revolting, my heart beating wildly, my brain saying “There is no way out!”… in the middle of it all, I sensed the atmosphere change. In the middle of my storm, I felt a mustard seed of faith come up in me. “I am hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” My small amount of faith did not stop my storm but it held my heart through the struggle. For me, that moment represents going to the other side. I stopped fighting against my storm. I stopped wishing it away and invited Jesus in.

I wonder if the disciples could tell by the smell of the air or the look of the sky that a storm was on the way. Did they choose to push off the bank knowing what was coming? At what point did bravery turn to panic? In all fairness, the disciples had a reason to be afraid. Their boat is on the verge of sinking under one of the most powerful storms they have probably encountered. There is a natural response we would all feel: fear. Jesus appears to be communicating to those he loves that in the middle of life’s storms we can experience a supernatural response. That day by the Sea of Galilee when I sailed my beads through the water I asked God to help me hold onto my faith in ordinary days. I asked for the strength to trust in the supernatural when everything around me howls with fear. I dare to believe that in my life when things are difficult, Jesus stands over me with power and authority saying to the unseen “Quiet! Be still” I trust that in between the subtle moments and big moments that God is moving us to the other side of our strongholds and walking with us to a place of freedom.

Grief in Yarn

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​​The silk scarf dropped back revealing her recently shaved head. The pump by her chair made a hissing sound as its air flowed into her nose and down to her dying lungs. Her frail hand held a crochet needle as she made another chain in the growing yellow blanket in her lap. She knew the time to let go was near, so with forced words that hung in the air waiting for a place to land she said, “One day you will understand.” That phrase was used at the beginning of many sentences she said to me before… well, you know. 

“One day you will understand a grandmother’s love.” 

“One day you will understand the meaning of family.”

“One day you will understand how it feels for people you love to leave and change.”

“One day soon you will understand grief.”

I sat beside her, nibbling on a cracker in hopes to keep the nausea at bay. A crumb fell on my extended belly, full of new life. Young and naïve, I shook my head and said “Yes ma’am,” as if I already understood the wisdom of someone of her age. 

Fast-forward a couple of months. 

My hand smoothed out the green felt of the chair I was sitting in. It was mid-January and the air was crisp. Tears warmed my cold cheeks. I averted my eyes and tried to relive all the cozy moments that had taken place in the nearby church instead of staring at the graveyard-reality I was sitting in. When I forced my eyes back, the shovel scooped up the first heap of dirt and, with one toss, grief settled in. Back at my home, the beautiful yellow crocheted blanket found its place on the crib. It was eager to swaddle new life and would have its chance come mid-April. 

Can one person prepare another for the emotional, physical, and mental response to grief? My grandmother could have talked to me about understanding till her oxygen tank ran dry and I would still have been none-the-wiser. Her intentions were pure. She wanted me to understand so it would make the blows of life easier. My involvement with grief is complicated and has more to do with distance from loved ones than permanent loss. I don’t claim to be a grief specialist, just someone who has had run-ins with it, one quite recently. Some of you, precious readers, have walked hand-in-hand with grief for many years. It has become your closest companion. One day it showed up like a vicious storm that you never saw coming and the rain has yet to stop. Perhaps your agony has come in the form of a death you could have never prepared for. Maybe grief pulled up a chair with you as you watched an aging parent take their last breath. Or it may have knocked on your door in the form of a dissolved marriage, a pregnancy cut short, a wayward child, or painful mistakes of the past. Back to the rain metaphor… if the tragic event is a storm, then grief is like holding an umbrella with a million tiny holes in it but never really knowing when the rain is coming. When the rain pours, we don’t always get soaked, but it manages to drip through the holes, blow in from the side, or gather up as a puddle around our feet. We can stay dry for a while but at some point, we are all getting wet. Sorrow can be as familiar as our next breath and we would still lack the ability to prepare our closest friend for the rainstorm ahead. My grandmother had lived enough life to know this to be true, but she still went out trying to give me the best cover she could. Did she have any idea that her crocheted blanket would be such a helpful umbrella?

Fast-forward eighteen years. 

The sheets felt cool and welcoming as I flung my stiff, tired body into the hotel bed. I reached into my bag to pull out the blue yarn that I was in the process of shaping into a “granny square.” I was new to crocheting but I was determined to make my daughter and her roommate a cute coaster for their new space. The journey to take our daughter to college started in St. Andrews,  Scotland (where we have been living) and it took us to Georgia to visit family and friends, then to Missouri to visit more family, and then finally to Illinois. Traveling can make me weary and my emotions were right at the surface. It was Friday night and I was putting the finishing touches on a rather mediocre granny square. I looked over at my growing young adult in the bed next to me. I lifted the covers and patted for her to come lie next to me. We cuddled. Her dad tickled her. We snuggled close. The world stopped moving. I took a picture in my mind and placed it deep in my heart. 

“I love you, Zoe Kate.”

“I love you, mom.” 

In an instant the world was spinning again and she jumped back into her bed. I decided then that I would make a blanket for her new room, even if it was mediocre. A few days later, I watched with blurry eyes and tear-stained cheeks as she walked away to start her journey. She gazed back with the same look on her face and gave me a soft wave. I waved back. Grief settled in.

Fast-forward a few days.

My husband and I were on the first leg of our 18-hour road trip back to Georgia. I grabbed my phone to message my mom-friends who are a few years ahead of me. They had already had the experience of dropping a child off at college. I asked, “Why did someone not prepare me for this heartbreak?” The answer is simple: no one can. I threw my feet up on the dashboard. I shifted my weight, trying to get comfortable in the passenger seat and hoping for a nap. Within minutes my brain was flooded with words and memories, as often happens when I try to fall asleep. (It must be the only time I allow my deep thoughts to get a word in.) Here I sat, 18 years later, with a bag full of yarn and a crochet needle in my lap, my lungs struggling to breathe, knowing the time has come for me to let go. I had not connected the dots before this moment. It did not cross my mind when I started this journey that my grandmother was crocheting Zoe a blanket and, as she chained the loops together, she too was preparing to let go. When I decided to make Zoe’s blanket, my grandmother and those sweet moments beside her chair were the furthest from my mind. I haphazardly picked up crocheting in July but now I saw that the process picked me. Life had come full circle and I was floored by the irony and kindness of God. I laughed and I cried.

Grief is a funny thing and I am not sure we will ever fully understand it. What I have come to understand is that we are all holding some sort of umbrella attempting to keep the sadness away and most of us are more wet than we are letting on. Often there is no physical grave on which to lay flowers for the type of grief we have. We may have shovels full of dirt all around us but no hole to put it in. Maybe years have gone by since you started trying to let go and the process seems never-ending, like a lingering rainstorm and you’re always some degree of soaked. Of all the words I have written, please hear these: Your grief has validity no matter how big, how small, how short, or how long. I believe the God of the universe when he says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” I believe he will “heal the brokenhearted and bind up our wounds.” When and how is up to him.

Grief sometimes comes with a tomb and sometimes it comes as a crocheted blanket that says, “I am trying to let go.” 

Heal our hearts, Lord Jesus.

Refuge

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Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.

Wendell Berry
from “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”

On the western shore of the Dead Sea and the Judean desert lies Israel’s largest oasis. Ein Gedi is a lush natural reserve brimming with green grass, waterfalls, and wild ibex. It’s bordered by dry, barren rock mountains and open roads without greenery. The Dead Sea is a mile away, the lowest point of elevation on Earth, a place completely devoid of life. Ein Gedi lies just around the corner, but no one would suspect that a place with fresh flowing water could exist in the midst of such barren land. Eric and I took a trip to Jerusalem in spring 2023 for a conference where he presented some of his research. After the conference, we had an opportunity to spend a day on a tour of the Dead Sea region. Walking around Ein Gedi was one of the highlights of the whole trip. We followed winding paths through the luxurious greenery on the mountainside. We watched wild ibex graze between the trees. The waterfall begged to be played in and the sound of the rushing water dropping into a foaming pool soothed my soul. As we stood in the shade of the trees near the splashing waterfall, the temperature was 10 degrees cooler.  Ein Gedi served as a refuge from the harsh conditions of the wilderness around it. It truly is a magical place where desert meets oasis and any weary traveler could breathe a sigh of relief. 

Ein Gedi is soaked in a rich history dating back 5,000 years, but there is one story I would like to focus on. I would like to look at the story of David and Saul. This story takes place in the Bible, specifically in the book of 1 Samuel. Saul was king at the time but David was next in line. As a young boy, David was anointed by God to be the future king of Israel. David had great success as he sought to honor God: he led men to victory in many battles, killed the untouchable Philistine giant, and was best friends with Saul’s son Jonathan. One would think that as the king, Saul would find great pride in having such a man by his side. It was quite the opposite. Saul’s jealousy burned against David and he spent many years trying to kill him. I want to pick up a bit of the story right here. 

David has been on the run from Saul for a good bit of time now. As Saul is getting closer, David is being pushed further into the dry wilderness. Saul was closing in on David when he was called back home because the Philistines were on their way to invade his land. When Saul returned home, David went to dwell in the strongholds of Ein Gedi. He knew the danger was not over. When I think of David in this Ein Gedi, I imagine a bone-weary man covered in the dirt of the desert, the blood of his enemies, and the tears of despair trying to find a place of refuge. David needs a place where he can stop running, where he can breathe. Ein Gedi would offer a place where his need for water, food, and rest would be met. Ein Gedi would be a place where David would be honest with God and allow him to renew his faith. Ein Gedi would buy him time to sit with God. David needed refuge from a disaster and God provided it.

David cried, “Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.”   

I stood on the hills of Ein Gedi where this prayer may have been prayed. I looked over the same Dead Sea that David would have looked over where he cried,  “My soul is in the midst of the lions.” I wonder how many of us feel the same way today? Are we tired from the struggles of life, feeling spiritually depleted,  and one hard moment away from apathy? Are we in need of our own personal Ein Gedi?    

The landscape that surrounds us today looks different than the Dead Sea region of David’s time, but it is just as inhospitable. We climb a precarious trail up a mountain of made-up persona. A sea of dead hopes calls out from below. We walk dirt roads for miles where doubt, disbelief, and worry consume our thoughts. We live distracted by the rectangle in our hands. The world around us feels barren. In the same way as David, we find ourselves bone-tired, covered in dirt, a bit bloody, unsure if God still has a plan for us. We are in desperate need of respite from a chase that seems to never end. In the wilderness, our faith is rattled. It sends deep shots of uncertainty into our hearts. It invites raw questions that are often left with no answers. I’m not assuming how David felt in the wilderness of Ein Gedi and I’m certainly not guessing. Despair rings clearly in the psalms that he wrote. Heartache spills over the pages of God’s word. I relate to this despair and heartache; my life has been marked by dark tumultuous days. Perhaps you can relate as well. Like David, there are many days in which we find ourselves desperate for God to come through, for God to show himself faithful. David cried out “Contend, Lord, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me. Take up shield and armor; arise and come to my aid. Brandish spear and javelin against those who pursue me. Say to me, ‘I am your salvation.’”

To me, Ein Gedi embodies a position of raw honesty with God. We can admit that life is hard and we are struggling. We don’t have to pretend that we are fine.  We don’t even fully know all we need in this place, but God does.  Ein Gedi is a place where our heart needs are met before a loving God. We can ask for peace even in the face of difficult circumstances and hard days. In our waiting, we do not need an explanation. We don’t have to make anything happen. We can be like David and stand on the fact that we know the one who contends for us. As the world outside remains the same, we venture in. We ask God to refresh our tired souls. When our faith feels at its weakest, we can ask God to speak his salvation over us again until hope arises. The streams of living water wash the dirt, the blood, and the doubt away. God walked into Ein Gedi and covered David with his wing.  I dare to believe that in the shadow of that very wing we can live abundantly, even in the midst of our struggle. May we each find Ein Gedi in our hearts today. 

Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

Isaiah 43:18-1

Friday’s Fading Hope

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While in Jerusalem, Eric and I toured the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The church is located in the Christian quarter of the old city. Millions of people travel to Jerusalem to be in what some consider the most sacred place for Christian believers. The church was built around Golgotha, the hill Jesus was crucified on, and the tomb he rose from. Constantine the Great erected the church in 336 CE. After a few fires and people trying to destroy the church, in the 12th century the Crusaders repaired the temple. In 2016, archaeologists needed to step in to make repairs. Their discoveries date back to Jesus’ death. This is just a brief history of the church. It is a fascinating topic, but today I want to talk about the Stone of Unction that lies a few feet after entering the church. Archaeologists believe this is the stone Jesus’ body was placed on to prepare for burial. After Jesus was crucified, a man named Joseph boldly asked the soldiers if he could take his body away to care for it. Nicodemus, a Pharisee secretly impressed with Jesus,  arrived with myrrh and aloe. I can imagine the sadness in their hearts as they worked together to anoint his body and wrap him in grave clothes. This was a death they never saw coming. As the man they thought would save the world was dead on the anointing stone, life became increasingly confusing.

In the Holy Sepulchre, the stone slab lies to the left of Golgotha and to the right of the tomb. It lies between what was and what would be. When we visited, I weeded through the crowd of people so I could touch the stone. People from all around the world come to touch or rub a cloth with oil on this sacred stone. The church was full on this day. The line to Golgotha and the tomb was too long for us on this visit. We spent our brief time wandering around the church, brushing shoulders with those around us. I returned to the stone. 

I have spent the last few days thinking about how eager we are to hear the good news of the resurrection. When reading through the passion narratives in the gospels, it’s tempting to skip a few pages ahead and ease the doubt and tension that the crucifixion caused. I sit with the thought that those who walked with Jesus did not have this privilege. They could not see the full picture. All they had on Friday was fading hope. Three days after Jesus’ death, two men left Jerusalem walking to Emmaus. A stranger appeared on the road and, unknown to these men, they were walking and talking with Jesus himself. In that conversation, they said concerning Jesus of Nazareth: “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” They HAD hoped, and now they left Jerusalem with overwhelming disappointment in their hearts. 

The men on the road to Emmaus were not the only ones with fading hope. When Jesus reveals himself to a few of his close disciples, he finds them behind locked doors. They have become bewildered. They are unsure of what will happen to them or what to do next so they hide. Jesus asked them “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” Thomas, one of the twelve disciples, held onto his doubt for 8 days until he could touch Jesus. Peter began fishing because that was what he did before Jesus showed up. 

I can only imagine the hurt Jesus’ friends felt on Friday. As his body was on its way to the grave, doubt must have grown in their hearts. I visualize my hand on the cool stone again. I feel I don’t have to hide my doubts, hurts, and disappointments. He already knows them. It is his invitation that I share them with him. I imagine smelling the incense as the clergy swing the censer to and from through the church. 

I admit in my heart I am like the men on the road to Emmaus saying, “I hoped things would turn out differently. I hoped, but that’s not what happened. I thought it would look like victory but it looks like defeat.” 

I am like the disciples hiding behind locked doors. I am scared of a future I am unsure of. I am scared of what’s next. I am afraid to move on. What will I leave behind? 

I am like Thomas. I have seasons of doubt and find myself standing alone. I want to have faith but also want to see Jesus show up in a tangible way in my life. 

I am like Peter. I just want to go back. I am eager to return to what I know and feel comfortable with. 

Jesus is not threatened or disappointed by doubt. We are invited to sit in silence by the slab and allow our hearts to break for all we have lost. We can feel the weight of all we thought life would be. We can mourn our sins and the sins of those that affect us. We can make use of brokenness to lead the way to restoration. Having doubts and fears does not make us disciples who don’t love Jesus, it simply makes us human, and humans are the reason Jesus is on the stone. His love for his people cost him his life. Life has times of doubt but Jesus invites us into a conversion that will bring healing. Jesus will work in our hearts if we leave them before him. 2000 years ago he spent his final days on earth restoring his people’s hope. He wants to restore our hope as well.

Follow the Pigeons

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I have this pigeon that flies to my garden daily. He comes to visit the bird feeder hanging in our plum tree but the poor guy is too big to sit on the ledge. People say that pigeons scare off the cute little songbirds, but I am not bothered by him at all. There is also a beautiful black and blue bird that comes around at the same time as the pigeon. He has an advantage because, though he is also large, he can stand on the feeder. This bird feeds freely from the feeder in the tree while the pigeon grabs bits that it drops to the ground. After watching this interaction for a few days I marveled at how smart the pigeon is. He is not able to get food straight from the feeder but he knows when to show up and find it on the ground underneath.

I have been a Christian for 25 years. Of those 25 years, I have often felt like a pigeon on the ground or, to be honest, maybe some other bird that is lost and unsure where to find “food”. God describes his word as food. It is food that brings life and nourishment and fills the void in the heart. His food gives wisdom, understanding, and clarity. There have been times in my life when I have not been able to find any of those ingredients in my “cupboard.” That does not mean they did not exist, it just means that sin, fear, doubt, and stress kept me from seeing them or getting to them. God’s word is active and living, but sometimes we choose to feed on things that slowly starve our souls. We ignore hunger cues. We try to quiet them down with the scroll of our fingers. Before long we have wandered away from the feeder altogether and food is nowhere to be found. We are not even on the ground picking up crumbs; we find ourselves in a barren land with no idea how to  fly back to the nourishment we need.

An interesting fact about pigeons is that they can look in a mirror and recognize the bird they see in the glass is themselves. It’s called the “mirror test.” Not all birds have this ability. It’s one of the things that makes a pigeon special. When we look in the mirror, we smooth our shirts and fix our hair. We see the outside of who we are. We are strangely capable of ignoring what our inner self is trying to tell us. We see the outside in the mirror and make adjustments but ignore (or do not see at all) that our hearts are starving. We continue with life as usual, drifting further away from the bits.

What should we do when we finally look up and realize we’ve wandered into a desperate situation?

Let’s follow the pigeons.

Let’s see ourselves for who we are. Let’s acknowledge where we are. Then our next step is to find our way back to the feeder, even if it only means feeding off the ground for a short while. The difficult truth is that no one can do the first two steps for us. It is God’s will to meet us and lead us, but we need to see and acknowledge the need. Honestly, at times it can feel easier just to wander around, to start our day by repeating yesterday and trying to silence whatever “it” is that is bothering us. It’s a death trap and God’s word declares he has abundance for us. It may not look like the world’s definition of abundance but it is what gives our souls life. When we see that we need help, let’s ask for it. Pride and ego will scream, “No!” Don’t be surprised at this… do it anyway. The longer we worry about how the world sees us, the longer we will remain in a barren place. Find someone who can feed you the truth. Don’t look for someone to tell you what you want to hear. When we are starving, lies can seem very appetizing. It is like birds trying to eat chocolate. It looks delicious, but it is poisonous. Find the truth. Allow yourself to feast on the wisdom of those around you. Don’t rush the process. Surviving a difficult season doesn’t require standing on the feeder, but we must stay close to the ground underneath. God is calling you out of the barren land!