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Just Because You’re Lonely Doesn’t Mean You’re Not Close to Christ

I’m a part of a few Christian mental health Facebook groups, and one thing I hear repeatedly is the notion that if we feel lonely it’s because we’re not close enough to Christ. Don’t get me wrong: I believe closeness to Christ can help loneliness. Feeling His presence is amazing. But He also hard-wired us for human interaction, and if we don’t get it, then the natural (and God-given) response is to feel lonely.

In our individualistic church culture, people talk as though your personal relationship with Christ is the only thing that matters. But a healthy walk with Christ necessitates that we seek out Christian community. God didn’t design us to walk with Him alone—He designed that a people would walk with Him. To deny others in favor of a one-on-one relationship with Christ is to object to His desire and call for our lives. Misguided Christians guilt lonely brothers and sisters into thinking they aren’t close enough to Christ when in reality to seek Christ at the expense of community is to fall farther away from Christ. Their solution is the problem. To walk with Christ is to walk with others. We should seek community while not neglecting our individual closeness with Christ.

If we feel lonely, we should do our best to find community. We should think of ways to invite others over or to create hang outs that others would want to attend. When we get frustrated, we keep trying. And during this process, we continue our personal prayer and Bible reading time. That, I think, is a better solution than simply telling people to get closer to Jesus.

 

W.R. Harris is the founder and owner of Persevering Hope. He is an author who has written six books to date. You can check out his author website here: http://www.wrhwriting.com/

 

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Christmas without You

This Christmas you weren’t,

In person, with us here;

But we felt you in lessons learnt,

In hard-to-find Christmas cheer.

 

We felt your everlasting presence

In the decorations that you loved

And as we opened up the presents

From family remembering you above.

 

The tears we cried

Were cleansing, in a sense,

But with the year gone by,

We realized how much you’ve missed.

 

But you spent your Christmas in Heav’n,

Praising at the feet of Christ.

We may have spent it crumbling,

But we thought of your advice:

 

“Please don’t miss me when I go;

Remember me the way I was.

You gave me flowers here below—

Of a brighter life you were the cause.”

 

We tried to carry on this year—

In fact, we must’ve done all right.

We won’t pretend we didn’t shed a tear,

But remembering you brought us Christmas light.

 

Alyssa is an author trying to break into the field, but willing to go where God wants her to with her writing. She writes Young Adult Christian novels in an effort to bring the truth back into the lives of young people in which it is often so severely lacking.

She has overcome 13 brain surgeries, 4 spinal cord surgeries, and countless others since 2009 alone, and battles two organic brain issues, a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Bipolar II, two different anxiety disorders, and more mental illnesses. Her goal is to reach others with the Gospel and what God’s taught her through her ailments.

Alyssa lives in Central Florida with her husband, part-time daughter (a blessing that came with marriage!), and three fur babies.

Check out Alyssa’s blog: http://teacupsandpaperroses.wordpress.com/

And check out her author Facebook page: http://facebook.com/teacupsandpaperroses

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The Day You Stop Fighting

“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”

 

Those words have been in my mind for years now—sometimes bounding their way around in an endless, repetitious reminder; other times, sluggishly processing, reminding me that, no matter what, I cannot stop fighting.

 

“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”

 

Those words are a direct quote from my father. My bipolar and anxiety disorders come from my mother, and I heard my dad repeat these words for years.

 

And then I was diagnosed in my early twenties. Four brain surgeries seemed to be the trigger. At first, I refused to admit there was anything wrong. I so desperately didn’t want to be like the mother I’d grown up with. Not because my mom isn’t fantastic, but because my young adult brain recalled all the bad times—all the broken promises of  trips and outings because my mom would get depressed, all the times we left a venue because my mom’s anxiety couldn’t take it, all the times my grandmother had to take us because my mom was too overwhelmed.

 

And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of it.

 

But I knew.

 

I finally made it to a psychiatrist. I was finally diagnosed: Bipolar II, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia, and more. I finally allowed myself to be put on medication.

 

And then began the tiring process of finding the right medicinal cocktail, seeing my psychiatrist every few weeks, having therapy recommended. And realizing that I wasn’t going to be just like my mother…in fact, my psychiatrist informed us all that I was far worse off.

 

And those words my dad had used many times when discussing with me one of my mother’s episodes came back: “The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”

 

“But I’m so tired, Daddy. I’m tired of feeling this way, of always being way up or way down, never having a normal.”

 

“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”

 

“But, Daddy, I hate being this depressed. What if my husband leaves because I can’t even be a good housewife? I don’t know how I’m supposed to get off that couch and do anything.”

 

“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”

 

“But, Daddy, I don’t want to kill myself, but some days I wish God would just do it for me.”

 

“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”

 

Of course, my dad said more than that, but that was a phrase he never left out.

 

Some days? You won’t be able to do it. The depression will suck you so far down that you can’t even think, let alone move and complete tasks.

 

But most days? Most days, you can fight it, even if just a little bit. Even if you just load the dishwasher. Even if you just brush your teeth and put on deodorant. Even if you just get dressed. Even if…

 

Because the day you stop fighting is the day you lose.

 

 

Alyssa is an author trying to break into the field, but willing to go where God wants her to with her writing. She writes Young Adult Christian novels in an effort to bring the truth back into the lives of young people in which it is often so severely lacking.

She has overcome 13 brain surgeries, 4 spinal cord surgeries, and countless others since 2009 alone, and battles two organic brain issues, a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Bipolar II, two different anxiety disorders, and more mental illnesses. Her goal is to reach others with the Gospel and what God’s taught her through her ailments.

Alyssa lives in Central Florida with her husband, part-time daughter (a blessing that came with marriage!), and three fur babies.

Check out Alyssa’s blog: http://teacupsandpaperroses.wordpress.com/

And check out her author Facebook page: http://facebook.com/teacupsandpaperroses

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Understanding the Infertility Struggle

I spent some time focusing on my fertility issues and the loss of identity of ever being a biological mom in “He’s Not on the Cross” and was, today, thinking about those very topics again. At my age, it makes sense that my Facebook newsfeed sees a myriad of creative pregnancy and birth announcements, and it causes me think back to when I saw all the engagement and wedding announcements while I remained single. But this is somehow…worse.

 

As most of you know, the majority of people, even extremely good friends, will call you (or text you) with a pregnancy announcement and expect excitement. I mean, why shouldn’t they? They are excited, rightly so, and, as their friend, you ought to be, as well. Plus, a baby on the way is an exciting thing, in general! And you are excited, but…

 

“I know you’re happy for me, but I want to be sensitive to your feelings. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, especially every time you hear about someone’s new pregnancy. So while I’m happy you’re excited for me, I don’t ever want you to think that I don’t care about you or what you’re going through. Are you ok?”

 

Those words—you long to hear them.

 

What’s amazing to me is that I have heard them. I have one friend who, with all three of her pregnancies, has been amazing regarding my feelings, which makes it much easier to be genuinely happy for her.

 

It’s not that I wouldn’t be happy anyway: this is my best friend we’re talking about! But the fact that she recognizes that I’m not always going to be super cheery about someone’s pregnancy because it hurts to think about it is amazing to me. That she takes the time to think about how I’m feeling, even though she’s obviously extremely excited, will never cease to amaze me.

 

 

Alyssa is an author trying to break into the field, but willing to go where God wants her to with her writing. She writes Young Adult Christian novels in an effort to bring the truth back into the lives of young people in which it is often so severely lacking.

She has overcome 13 brain surgeries, 4 spinal cord surgeries, and countless others since 2009 alone, and battles two organic brain issues, a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Bipolar II, two different anxiety disorders, and more mental illnesses. Her goal is to reach others with the Gospel and what God’s taught her through her ailments.

Alyssa lives in Central Florida with her husband, part-time daughter (a blessing that came with marriage!), and three fur babies.

Check out Alyssa’s blog: http://teacupsandpaperroses.wordpress.com/

And check out her author Facebook page: http://facebook.com/teacupsandpaperroses

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An Open Letter to the Un-churched Husband

Dear Husband,

 

I honestly don’t know where to begin with this. I certainly don’t want to make you angry, but there is something I need you to know: I need you to be in church.

 

And not just you—I need to be in church with you, and our little one with us.

 

I know that fishing is an alluring activity (no pun intended, honestly), but on a Sunday morning? If we’re up that early anyway, why can we not be in the Lord’s house?

 

You see, dear husband, I grieve over the fact that you’re not in church, making it harder to get myself and our sweet, newly born-again child in church.

 

I pray you become the leader I know you can be. The man of God, after His own heart, that I know you can be. The born-again, living-the-life and not just talking-the-talk believer I know you can be.

 

But none of this is possible without our Lord and Savior.

 

My dearest husband, I don’t and won’t pretend to know whether you truly know Christ as your personal Savior or not. I simply pray that, either way, God will grab a hold of your heart—that fishing for men will become more important to you than fishing for mere literal fish, that God’s game plan for your life will become more important to you than the game plan your favorite football team has laid out, that you’ll get back in the Lord’s house and graft your branch into His Vine. Because He’s waiting. He’s there.

 

And so am I.

 

With all the love in my heart,

Your Wife

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Holding on to the Hope of Eternal Bliss

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” – 2 Corinthians 4:17

For people suffering from anxiety and/or depression, sometimes it feels like God is literally the only reason you have for living. It’s hard to “live” for much else when you can’t find joy anymore in activities you used to love. It’s a terrible thing not to find joy in fun hobbies and activities, and God doesn’t want things to be that way. But as I mentioned earlier, He can use it for good. When your life feels emptied of all else, God can be your everything. You can experience an intimacy with Him you never thought possible.

That’s not to say it’s not hard. This kind of suffering is hard, no matter how close you are to God and especially with a disorder that constantly drags you down and depletes you of energy. In these times I think it’s helpful to remember our great hope of eternal joy with God.

The Bible, from the Old Testament to the New Testament, constantly points us to a better world where everything will be made right. That’s why Jesus came—to usher in the Kingdom of God. To all those who trust in Him, He promises eternity in this New Kingdom. He promises to reward those same people for their good works in His name and for persevering.

“God ‘will repay each person according to what they have done.’ To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life” (Romans 2:6-7).

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving” (Colossians 3:23-24).

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).

“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’” (Matthew 25:21).

“Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done” (Revelation 22:12).

So hold on. God sees you fighting, and He will reward you richly for it. It will be more than worth it. “Our…troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (my emphasis).

 

This is an excerpt from my book Anxiety and Depression Are (Not) Always Sins.

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When Mother’s Day Changes

This Mother’s Day was just like any other: my husband and I took my mom and dad out to eat; our daughter spent the weekend with her biological mom and step-dad but still called me to wish me a “Happy Mother’s Day”; my husband got me something most people would laugh at as a gift but was something I not only loved but needed.

 

So yes, just like any other.

 

Except…

 

It wasn’t.

 

This was the first Mother’s Day that I didn’t need to find the perfect card for my grandmother, someone who was really more like a second mother and thus deserved a card befitting that. I didn’t need to scour the shelves, hoping to find a card that said “Mimi” instead of “Grandma” or “Nana.” If fact, I avoided the card aisles in every store. I couldn’t even bring myself to buy a card for my mom because it would’ve reminded me that Mimi didn’t need a card. Even if I had gotten my mom a card, she would’ve just cried, thinking about my grandmother.

 

This was the first Mother’s Day I didn’t grab that bouquet of pink roses right before checking out with a card, the first Mother’s Day I didn’t have to frantically try to remember if we or my parents had a vase for the flowers, the first Mother’s Day I didn’t buy a jumbo Hershey bar for my Mimi. The first Mother’s Day without her.

 

But this was also a Mother’s Day of firsts for her. I’m not positive on what my great-grandmother’s beliefs were, but if she was a believer, this was Mimi’s first Mother’s Day with her own mother in over fifty years. I know this was her first Mother’s Day with three of her children—her twins, Mary and Joseph, one of whom was stillborn while the other lived mere hours and another baby that no one knows the gender of…except my Mimi now. I also know that she is spending her first Mother’s Day with her one grandbaby that my mom miscarried—she’s spending a Mother’s Day with my sibling before my mom has even gotten that chance.

 

And it was Mimi’s first Mother’s Day spent in the literal presence of God.

 

So, with all that, how can I be sad? Don’t get me wrong: today was hard. All these firsts without her are going to continue to be rough—her birthday coming up, Thanksgiving, Christmas. But she is without pain; she is happy. I’m sure she knows we miss her, but she’s experiencing things we’ve only imagined at this point.

 

So, I prayed a small prayer, that God would wish her a Happy Mother’s Day for me. No, I don’t know how all that works, so I don’t know if that’s something God does—but I like to think it is.

 

If you have your mother here, or someone like a mother, don’t take her for granted. One day, you’ll be avoiding card aisles and crying because you don’t need to pick up the roses.

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He’s Not on the Cross

With Easter approaching, the Cross is heavy on the minds of many. But as it’s been pointed out time and again in the church I attend, we really ought to focus more on the empty Grave. Christ is not on the Cross, and He’s not in the Grave. He’s risen and ascended, and that is where we can find our power—or rather, God’s power to live the lives He has for us.

 

I’ve been trying to rest in this power lately. My husband and I have been struggling with infertility since the beginning of “us.” On top of that, I have Bipolar II, along with a double dose of anxiety disorders (and a myriad of other issues that can be passed on). I often wonder if I’m barren because of my health issues. God has yet to see fit to bless us with a child. You see, I am a mom—I have a beautiful step-daughter, whom I never feel the need to use the phrase “step-” for—but we’ve not been blessed with our own child.

 

Knowing I’m infertile has its own struggles and grief. I never realized you could mourn a child that never was and never will be—a child of imagination. At best, the grief that accompanies knowing you will never bring life into this world is hard to deal with. At worst, it feels impossible. In a late-night fit of anxiety, I turned to my laptop before I began to write this to look up verses on anxiety and uncertainty of the future.

 

And I am glad I did.

 

There are so many promises in the Bible—promises that are possible because Jesus isn’t on that Cross anymore, and He isn’t in that Grave. Promises of a Heavenly Hope—one that is far different from earthly hope.

 

I’ve always believed earthly hope to be paralyzing. We spend time hoping for things that may never come to pass, and our hope often turns into worrying about things over which we have no control. We often get stuck, unable to move because we want something so desperately it infiltrates every area of our lives, immobilizing us.

 

But our God is a great God, and He is a God Who keeps His Word—that is, His promises. (Which are found in His Word—capital W. And I don’t see the meaning of that phrase and the use of the capital letter to be coincidental. God works out even the smallest of details. And if He can do that, how much more can He work out the bigger details in my life and the lives of others?)

 

Here are just a few verses that really stood out to me tonight, as I grasped for a shred of anything that can give me Godly, Heavenly, Eternal Hope:

 

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”

–Psalm 56:3 (NIV)

 

 

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.”

–Isaiah 26:3 (ESV)

 

“Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

Matthew 11:28 (NLT)

 

“For I am the Lord your God, Who upholds your right hand, Who says to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’”

–Isaiah 41:13 (NASB)

 

Did these verses magically melt all my trepidation and anxiety? No, they didn’t, but they helped immensely. I pray that they’ll help you, too. God does have a plan (Jeremiah 29:11), and He will bring it to pass.

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Waiting for Her to Die

Waiting for her to die,
Should we be happy or sad?
Should we be sorry or glad?

No more treatment.
No more meds
Those doctors have lost their creds.
No more stuff,
She’s had enough.

“Let me go!
You all must know
I’ve had a good life.
I’ve been a good wife.
And a loyal mother.

“I’ve been a good sister to each dear brother
A little demanding, yes that is true,
But, I’ve always been there for each of you.

“Unhook the tubes.
Detach each wire.
Bath me and put on a fresh gown.
Comb my hair and lay me back down.
It’s time for me to retire.

“I’m going home
No more to roam.”

Should we be happy or sad?
Should we be sorry or glad?

 

 

Anna J. Small Roseboro, a National Board Certified Teacher, wife of fifty-two years, mother of three, is a published poet and author of fiction, and non-fiction texts, but is primarily an educator. She has over forty years experience in five states teaching English and Speech to students in middle school, high school Education Theory, Curriculum Design, and Oral Rhetoric to those in college.  Now retired, she coaches new writers and early career educators across the nation, and emerging leaders at her home church, New Community Church of God in Kentwood, Michigan. Her website is http://teachingenglishlanguagearts.com/

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“Just Come to Him” May Be a Better Prayer Approach than “Get in the Right Mindset”…Especially for Hurting People

There’s a notion that you must speak properly to God in prayer. It says you must be on your best behavior, that you must be in the right mindset.

I’ve heard several references to Christian writers who advocate this. They say to sit in silence, meditate on God’s word and His holiness, or something of the like. This practice can be encapsulated by a quote from Kenneth Bailey in his book Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes: “Twice in the recent past it was my extraordinary privilege to personally greet Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II…How much more should we sense the awesome nature of our approach to ‘Our Father who is in the heavens’ and be appropriately prepared to address him.”

I think there’s a place for this kind of practice in the Christian life. It’s not bad to meditate on God’s word or holiness or how grateful you are to Him. However, I think any attempt to claim this should be our routine every time we pray is mistaken.

As expressed in the earlier quote, many people view God as king and therefore think He should always be addressed as such. God is the King, but I think this earthly analogy breaks down when considering prayer. You’d never address a king with anything less than the best decorum. However, God seems to encourage spontaneous and even frustrated prayer. In a sense, God doesn’t demand that we always address Him with the utmost respect. He’s a king who’s more interested in a genuine, deep relationship. He wants you to express yourself to Him, all the way down from the depths of your soul.

Let’s look at some examples from David and Jesus:

 

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?” (Psalm 13:1-2).

“But now you have rejected and humbled us;
you no longer go out with our armies.

You made us retreat before the enemy,
and our adversaries have plundered us.

You gave us up to be devoured like sheep
and have scattered us among the nations.

You sold your people for a pittance,
gaining nothing from their sale.

You have made us a reproach to our neighbors,
the scorn and derision of those around us.

You have made us a byword among the nations;
the peoples shake their heads at us.

I live in disgrace all day long,
and my face is covered with shame
at the taunts of those who reproach and revile me,
because of the enemy, who is bent on revenge.

All this came upon us,
though we had not forgotten you;
we had not been false to your covenant.

Our hearts had not turned back;
our feet had not strayed from your path.

But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals;
you covered us over with deep darkness.

If we had forgotten the name of our God
or spread out our hands to a foreign god,

would not God have discovered it,
since he knows the secrets of the heart?

Yet for your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.

Awake, Lord! Why do you sleep?
Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever.

Why do you hide your face
and forget our misery and oppression?” (Psalm 44:9-24).

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).

 

This is the kind of communication He wants. He’s not interested in a “respectful” façade (Jesus says in Matthew 6:7 to refrain from empty words in prayer). He knows you at your best and your worst anyway. Why would He care about a proper appearance when you approach Him? He wants you, more than anything, to draw closer to Him. Spewing all your “junk” at Him, so to speak, does that better than approaching him with “proper etiquette.”

I’ve heard so many people say they feel they can’t pray. How can I with all I’ve done? How do I talk to Him? I feel too much shame, guilt, fear, hurt, anger (and yes, this could be anger at God), apathy, distrust, confusion, distance. I can’t bring myself to pray. To these people, it wouldn’t be helpful to say, “You need to get in the right mindset before praying.” No, to these people I say this: Just come to Him. Just start speaking, even if it’s frustration.

I once heard a therapist say, “If you don’t think you can pray, just go home, open up a window, and scream (a certain curse word I won’t repeat here). That can be considered praying.” While I don’t necessarily endorse the expletive, I agree with his point: Let everything out, don’t hold back. Start spewing. If you spew consistently, you may be surprised how deep your prayer life is a year from now.

Again, meditation and quoting God’s word before praying isn’t bad. But for those of us who are addicted, feel numb to God, feel hurt by God, feel mad at God, feel they can’t see Him, are scared to approach Him, or fill in the blank, just coming to Him may be the best way to pray.

 

“If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11).

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

“whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37).