Untangled

Vanessa Foster-Whiddon

Travel

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.

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.

Don’t Have to be Sorry

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I was beneath a beautiful blue Scottish sky today. Believe it or not, St. Andrews has quite a few non-gloomy days. The wind was just enough to refresh me as I ventured out to run. My body is very much out of practice in this area. I told myself to just focus on the music coming out of the earbuds. The music helped the run, but it helped my heart more. I remember on my runs in years past how God would use music to speak to my heart. I think that is why I ran often then, because I was never really good at it. Today was no different. I was still slow. A song came on that is not a song one would think God would use to move someone’s heart. However, my response was visceral. My knees went weak and my stomach got upset. I simultaneously felt the need to run faster and cry harder. Instead, I let a single tear run down my sweating face until I tasted salt and felt deeply the bitter truth that I have believed since moving to Scotland: I have let people down. It was hard to swallow. My family and I are going on our third year in the UK. We came for my husband to pursue his PhD, but we ultimately came because we knew God was calling us here for this season. His faithfulness has not disappointed. In coming here we left a whole world back home. We left parents that are aging, a daughter who needs her mom more now than when we left, siblings that feel further distanced with each year abroad. We left friends who were exactly like family, the kind of dear relationships many people dream of having. We left a supporting community. We left family and friends that are far from God. We left a place where brokenness is still fresh and our support is no longer there. Writing it all out even now, it makes very little sense to leave such a home.

The song I was listening to talked about growing up, leaving, and not feeling sorry about it. I did not realize the pain in my heart from leaving. The lyric that pulled the veil open says, “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Just the word “leaving” hurts. The reality unbeknownst to us when we moved from the US to Scotland is that cross-cultural moves have a way of changing people. I know with time and age that we all change. Change is often handled better when a close unit of people experience the changes together. I have been sorry that I am changing. Sorry that my kids are changing apart from their hometown friends. I have been sorry for “living life” without my tribe. I have been sorry for making new friends in a new home. I have been sorry for growing in the Lord not next to my besties. I did not realize I was sorry. But I deeply am.

Sympathy is not really what I need. I honestly need to feel the grief. I believe it to be healing and freeing. (Maybe it’s healing and freeing for you in some way.) God is a God of love and would never expose our hearts to a hiding lie unless he means to deal with it. I am not sure how it’s all going to work out but I trust it will.

The sorrow in my heart is big and I am asking God, who often does things that don’t make sense, to help me walk through this. I have to put all my hope on his call and purpose for my life. I have to trust the Lord who said: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” In Luke 9 many people made excuses why they could not just “up and follow” Jesus. I could see how it could be easy for many people to turn around after a while. Giving up things for the call of God feels so countercultural and is extremely hard. So for the next few months I will allow God to heal my sorrowful heart and give me passion anew to live my life completely abandoned to him, learning to embrace this place he has called me to occupy. I will rejoice in growing up, leaving, and knowing I no longer have to feel sorry about it.

Four Weeks in Cambridge

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Hello friend! How are things going with you these days? I know that life continues to feel out of sorts for most all of us. Everything we do takes extra steps and extra thinking. I know the “extras” get tiring for us all. I am sorry if you find yourself struggling today. In some strange way, I find comfort in knowing that I am not all alone in my struggles. We are in this together. It may look different for each of us but in a small way we are all connected. Pour your favorite drink, get comfy and let’s connect. I will wait….

Well, we are on week 4 in Cambridge, England. I cannot begin to tell all the tales in this visit so I will try to visit more often. Today I will talk with you about how we are getting along. Our first week here was like being dropped out of a plane in the wilderness to fend for ourselves. Only shortly later did we realize that we had several really sweet people around us to help. We stayed locked away for our 14 very long days of mandatory isolation. I spent most of my time ordering the wrong things from the online grocery and eagerly waiting on the deliveryman to bring my Amazon packages. The fun did not last long. Even though we are making 1100 square feet work quite comfortably now, in the thick of our imprisonment I was not sure we would all make it out alive.

Sipping break…

We got to break out on a wonderful Saturday. We had grand plans. We would quickly shop for school clothes and spend the rest of our time doing some sightseeing. I laugh now! We were in our second store before I lost my mind. I am surprised it took that long. So… American and UK clothes sizes are different. I think I have converted sizes correctly but who knows. The pressure is on and (of course… because of COVID) there is no trying things on. Kids go to school Monday and I am losing it. In the midst of our clothes shopping, Eric has to meet up with a guy to pick up an item he bought online. We decide to plant the kids at a nearby Starbucks for caffeine and babysitting while I shoe-shop for them… without them. It turned out fantastic! I only returned shoes 3 times! But the peace of doing it alone was sooooo worth it.

The next day the hunt for clothes continued. We walked to the end of the earth. Well, almost. Keep in mind we do not have a car and we have yet to buy bikes. The hunt was a small win and I had enough clothes for the kids to start school.

Sunday night we were all a mess. My mom-heart was really hurting. My kids have always been in a small town. The school they left really spoiled us. The staff was amazing. The kids were (for the most part) kind. My kids did not have good friends at home… they had amazing friends. Honestly, I felt very sad and concerned for my kids as they faced this new school in this new town in this new country. I felt like I was sending them into a foreign land to fend for themselves. Due to COVID we cannot even walk into the school. I cried.

They have now completed one whole week and school clothes are under control but my heart is still a bit of a mess. It is different here. It is really hard to explain, but it is. I will not disparage our new culture, but it is not what my kids know. My faith is being stretched and I am definitely having a good lesson in learning to trust God more with my kids, even trusting him with my sweet daughter back home who is newly married and missing her mom. It is so hard. I just want to be there to protect all four of them. But I can’t. So that’s how I am right now, learning that my kids are going to face hard, uncomfortable things and I can’t always step in to be their shield or rescuer. In fact, even if I could, sometimes I shouldn’t. I remember all the things that I personally have learned by doing hard things and I am trying to let go so my kids can also experience the gift of learning in these new, hard times.

So hard.

So don’t mind me if you see me in a corner praying (and crying). I will be OK.

Cambridge Qs (Part 1)

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Hi guys! I have had a few questions from some people about this next season we are headed into. I could write a book of answers, but today I will keep it short and answer a few questions that come up often. Maybe I’ll answer more next week. So if you are curious or just have a question, feel free to shoot it my way and I will try to answer it soon.

So here we go…. 

Why Cambridge?

Really, it is a “God thing.” Going to the UK for Eric’s PhD was on the radar, but Cambridge was a dream. It is one of the top universities in the world (like… of EVERY university in the world, it is always in the top 10, often in the top 2.) As Eric’s wife, I have watched him pursue everything he does with excellence! In this most recent season, I have watched him get his masters degree, working so hard for every A, while teaching full-time at Colquitt Christian Academy and teaching guitar lessons on the side to pay for his tuition… and still being a wonderful father and husband! I believe the favor of God rests on him to reach a special group of people (nerdy people like him!) and God has opened that door. 

Where does the term Team Hyphen come from?

We are a family with two last names; that’s why we have a hyphen between Foster and Whiddon. Over the years, someone started calling us The Hyphen Nation. There are 6 of us and it stuck! 

Is Alexis going with you? 

Sadly, no! Alexis (my oldest daughter) is getting married March 21st and is as happy as she can be. She and her husband will live in Moultrie.

Will you keep practicing massage therapy there? 

For now, no. I have to figure out how to get my license to transfer. I also have to try to figure out how to fit in 20 hours of continuing ed while getting ready for a wedding and moving across the ocean. Yes, I procrastinated. My fault. 

What will you do for work? 

At first, I will be focusing on helping my family adjust well so that we can fulfill this calling and not jump ship. Next, I plan to find my way into the community by either working at a local coffee shop or a yoga studio. My goal is to find those people that the Lord is sending us to love with the Gospel and give my life (and my work and my time) over to this call.

Why build a team to go to Cambridge? 

From the time Eric and I have been married, we have served the community. In every opportunity we had to serve the community, we built a team to do it with us. I am sure some of you will remember our youth ministry days back at Heritage Church (or if you’re seriously old-school Team Hyphen, you’ll remember Cool Springs Free Will Baptist!) We could not have done youth ministry without our team. We spent years pouring into teens and training leaders to do the same. When the opportunity came for us to create a music school with a coffee shop in it (known as Beans & Strings), we built a team. We started with lovely volunteers and ended with a great staff. Not only was the staff our team, but the community was our team too! Without the community’s support, our little dream would never have happened. We are thankful! Now we believe there is a community in Cambridge (and beyond) who needs us. I would not dare risk such a big move with my family if I did not believe 100% that this is from the Lord. So we are asking friends and community to come alongside us to make it happen! We are asking for prayers, messages of encouragement, and financial giving. This call is not just for us… I believe it is for a special team. Will you join it?

Where will you live? 

No clue yet. Working on it. 

Will you learn how to drive on the “wrong” side of the road? 

At some point, yes. I promise to take you along on that journey! Walking and bike riding is the way most people get around in Cambridge. It is a city with TONS of pedestrians. We plan to live where we can walk or ride bikes everywhere we need to go. The UK also has really good public transportation. When we need to go somewhere out of town, we’ll take a bus or the train.

Ok. Enough for today. Send me your questions!

If you are interested in joining Team Hyphen, you can check out this Cambridge page on Eric’s blog.