Christine Duncan

Love, Laughter, Life Preservers

Tag: Healing (page 1 of 4)

You Wait Here, I’ve Got Some Things to Rearrange

When God Says Wait

It was a kind of bizarre moment.

The journey was already long and drawn out, a roller coaster of health ups and downs, answers to prayer, release and relief.

So when I started to prepare to enter back into life as I knew it, and suddenly felt a holy hand go up in front of my hurried hustle, I was confused.

He had answered my prayer. I had come back to life. So why the hold-up?

Turns out He knew some things.

Some things that would happen to me. Some things He would do in me.

And I wasn’t lacking in faith.

I wasn’t doubting the answer.

Hadn’t got a head of myself.

But there was a stretch where I couldn’t figure out why I was still in a holding pattern when it seemed perfectly safe to land.

At one point I was talking to a friend who knows a thing or two about holy rest and waiting on God, and admitted that I was so ready to get back to all the things I loved, was actually raring to go for the first time in almost a year, and yet felt very definitely that He was being firm on “wait”.

But didn’t know what I was waiting on.

Her emailed response settled upon me, and asked me something my heart hadn’t considered, her words adding light to see more clearly by.

“Think of this season in terms of God saying to you, ‘Can I trust you with what I have in mind next?”

He had brought me this far, so if He was saying wait a bit longer He had a good reason.

My heart un-clenched.

I realised I wasn’t given a “wait here on a never-ending loop” directive but a “you wait here, I’ve got some things to arrange” directive.

So I relinquished all my “here I come, world” and instead offered up a “here I am, Lord.”

And I waited.

Turns out, He knew that my new health season would require some recoup that wouldn’t kick in right away. That when it did, He would have to see me through it, hard.

And so I entered a season of healing pains.

My body so happy to be rid of a little something called Lyme that it would then try to regenerate every bit of tissue, nerve, joint, muscle, and brain wave that disease had affected through the years… all at once.

Sometimes we know we’re the most alive, and in the most healthy transition of our lives, when we enter a pain cycle, the proof that life really is returning.

Like when a limb feels like it’s on fire after it’s fallen asleep, He knew that would be me- body, mind, and soul, for another 7 whole months.

Good pains but still hard pains that would wipe me out.

And He had known they were coming.

You circle in a holding pattern until the tower says all is clear. It’s for your safety.

So while I embraced His “wait” and used it to rest and heal further, He began to reveal that He was not idle while I was out of commission, but that He was rearranging and orchestrating some things, old and new.

“You wait here, I’ve got some things to rearrange.”

“I need to clear the tarmac. I’ve got to prepare you for what’s to come. I know you’re going to need more time to adjust.”

“I’m doing this not just so you can get back, but so that you can thrive. ”

Can I trust you with what I have next? Click To Tweet

I’m posting this because there’s a feeling in the air like we’re transitioning out of the holding pattern and into new destinations.

Will you wait with me, just a little bit longer, as He directs me out of this hard season and into a few things I’m slightly surprised at?

I have a new feeling. That what He has is going to be good. And maybe different. Maybe needing courage.

Always needing faith and obedience.

Thanks for hanging around while this new season is about to be released, readers! It won’t be very long and we’ll be doing this thing called life together again.

Now, you wait here please… I’ve got some things to rearrange.

When Every Day Is Redemption Day

When Every Day Is Redemption Day....

I have this thing in my life that would love to make me a slave. Perhaps you nod a knowing yes to this statement because you have something dogging you right now as well.

My particular battle is with Dysthymic Disorder, also known as chronic depression, and to allow it to rule my life would be a heavy, unruly kind of slavery.

How do I know? Because it has in the past and it still tries to now.

Almost every day. For huge chunks of the last 30 years. And every time it attempts to hold me hostage again, I am forced to remember that “he who the Son sets free, is free indeed.”

There’s no taking this girl back to the slavery that nearly consumed her once upon a time. Never again.

Why?

Will you join me over at The Faith Collective this weekend where I share the why and more importantly the Who? I know we’d love to see you!


Will you also join us over at the
Faith ‘n Friends Blog Hop linkup over
at Deb’s Counting My Blessings?
Would love to see you there!

 

Shame Only Robs Us Of What’s Real

Shame Robs Us Of What's Real

Ah. I did my fair share of pretending in my life.

And in the end, all my pretending did was delay an important diagnosis, which, as a result, caused me to miss out on some of the aforementioned real life and all that goes with it.

So when I read the above quote while reading the book version of “The Song” by Chris Fabry and Richard L. Ramsey, a modernized account of King Solomon turned into the stuff of movies, I kind of took a breath.

I couldn’t have said it better.

Pretending cheats us out of living in the light of truth.

It’s not noble.

It’s not easy.

It’s not the answer.

And yet we do it way more than we think we do.

It’s our knee-jerk reaction to wanting to hide in the crowd. Avoid drawing unwanted attention and advice. And in the process, miss the gifts others might have for you.

What He has for you.

And meanwhile, truth heals us. But then we go ahead and make it complicated. And it doesn’t have to be.

I’m such an example of this. When I told the right people about my symptoms, the truth brought freedom. And a diagnosis that was for more than just me.

And that freedom gave me a new lease on how to live.

A hard process to be sure, but so worth it.

Mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

I don’t say it lightly, but God was able to use my Dysthymia to bring a freedom I had been lacking. Lacking for nearly three decades.

My diagnosis ended my need to pretend.

Pretending I felt like everyone else.

Pretending I could pile task after task on my plate and not crumble from the meltdown.

Pretending to be chipper.

Pretending that home was perfect.

Pretending anxiety and depression and everything they entail were never in my vocabulary.

I’m told I had a lot of people fooled.

Not something to ever be proud of. Means many people only had a peak at the real me.  And I truly thought I was doing everyone a favour.

Pretending will never do us any favours.

It only keeps out help, compassion, health, healing, resolve, and grace.

And keeps us trapped in the very grip of whatever we need to be delivered from.

How well I know.

And I also know that pretending, also known as deception, is good pals with shame.

And isn’t that what the enemy’s motive boils down to. If he can’t trick us with lies, he’ll build up lies that condemn and bring shame.

“No one will understand this.”

“No one will believe you, and then what?”

“Think of how this will make your whole family look?”

“Tell them the truth and suddenly watch your friends disappear.”

“Show them your scars and flaws and people are going to think you don’t have enough faith.”

And we’ve been trained to want acceptance at any cost.

Valuable turf for shame to claim.

And shame only robs us of what is real.

God wants us to know that shame does not have our best interests at heart. 

And that through one historic transaction on the Cross, shame cannot force the currency of pretending and suffering on us any longer.

His truth for us is spelled out in real grace, real mercy, real forgiveness, real love, real healing and real freedom.

“For the grace of God has displayed itself with healing power towards all mankind!” Titus 2:11

Grace with His healing power extended to us removes all shame.

Take a deep breath, friends. What have you hidden recently? Disguised? Camouflaged? Dressed up or played down?

Shame will whisper that there’s no one who will get it.

But that’s a lie.

Even if there weren’t another soul, God’s got you.

Don’t cheat yourself and God out of a truth-filled life.

He wants to give us life and give it to us abundantly, richly, powerfully.

Even if you can’t tell another soul just yet…

Tell Him.

And watch as He weaves you a world where you don’t have to pretend anymore.

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Want to join us over at Jennifer Dukes Lee’s
#TellHisStory linkup today?
We’d love if you’d open the link in the hashtag above!!!

Because You Were Here

Four little words but they changed my perspective.

And my mood.

Something delicious inside me flipped.

Something lifted. Something healed, even.

How could so much goodness come from four little words?

I roll the words through my heart even now, and wham, they do more than any outward show of love or appreciation could.

The week had been a battle. Just my chronic D acting up, but it can pack a punch. And what people don’t understand sometimes, is that self-worth and confidence are what your faulty neurotransmitters attack with a vengeance, a chemical shift that brings an emotional upheaval that does not respond ever to a “get over it” approach.

You are literally swamped with failure at every turn, defeat stares back at you in every reflective surface, and your brain and your disorder concede over and over that things will never feel right again because your synapses begin to play like a broken record that you have absolutely zero control over.

I pray we exhibit compassion and understanding the next time someone says they feel so overwhelmed they can’t go on. Because they honestly “feel” that they feel that way.

So there I was, desperate to keep going, feeling more and more the oozing helplessness as all of these things crept into every part of my day, looking around and seeing everything that was wrong, and for the life of me, so disabled by the dysthymia, that I couldn’t find where the function for looking upwards had gone to.

Blogs I couldn’t finish mocked me.

Dishes piling up threatened to swallow me up.

Every inch of me felt like it weighed a ton, (which is an actual physical symptom of my particular brand of disorder) and I couldn’t figure out how to do anything at home without wanting to give up.

Putting away mail. Impossible.

Sort four towels still on the bed. Couldn’t deal.

Order a pizza for dinner. (Please, there’d be no cooking in my state.)

I would read chats and messages four or five times before I could extract real meaning. Eventually I gave that up too.

And with every acknowledgement that I was useless, the pit became deeper and wider and more threatening.

Until the four words.

My husband (we like to call him *Perry for fun or *Wilson, sometimes both though neither are his name in any sense. And if you check out my instagram account you’ll know he likes to hide from the camera), ANYWAY, my husband had been racking up long work hours, much-needed, and suddenly had to make an hours-long drive right after all these hours in the shop to make a delivery in another city.

Made longer by the fact the weather was bad and they’d not given him clear directions.

He came home from a 19 hour day exhausted and wiped. And all I could offer him was cold pizza and a hug I almost couldn’t deliver.

And I tried valiantly to be present instead of in the pit, and caring, and concerned even though my brain was doing its wonky dance inside.

And as we laid there after only really seeing him for 5 minutes because his day started in 5 hours again, I told him I was sorry.

Sorry for his long hours. Sorry for the drive. Sorry for the pizza.

And already half asleep, he peeped one eye open and said it was okay.

That the whole awful drive in circles and home again, he knew he couldn’t wait to get home.

“Because you were here.”

Because you were here. *Perry didn’t know how much my soul needed such words. He was just being the nice comfy husband that he is, and saying four words out of our 21 years of love.

But God knew. Knew my heart would grab and cling at words my brain would’ve ignored.

And those four words.  Within the guidance of the Holy Spirit released something.

Chains fell off.

Fog lifted.

Very slowly, I laid there in the dark and grabbed for them. Hung onto them. Fed off them.

Came alive with them.

And maybe the dysthymic episode was already lifting around the same time, and maybe God had decided enough was enough?

All I know is that those four words released the doom and invited in purpose. Foiled the brain chemicals. Paved new tracks for my train of thought once on depression’s schedule.

Because you were here.

I think of the Psalmist. How many times he threw out words and thoughts of despair and defeat and hopelessness.

Four words that changed everything.

And then how often he grabbed for and clung to the promises and the precepts of the Most High who is incapable of leaving us high and dry and allowed the words of the Lord propel him into emotional and spiritual health again.

“Lord, because You were here..!”

“Lord, because you saw me in my affliction!”

“Lord, because of Your precepts and all the things that make You God, because You were here, You preserve my life!”

Peel back all the layers of Psalm 89 or 119.

See how when life becomes endless circles and hard work and nomadic, the very fact that I Am is with us and never leaves us and is waiting for us changes everything.

Today I start my prayer for the day with “Because You are here Lord, I know You’ll preserve me, no matter what comes.”

Thank Him for being faithful to cut through the fog and crush of life.

We become proof once again that He will be proven faithful.

It’s our four words of declaration, of thankfulness from the pits of life.

“Because You were here!”

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Today’s post is lovingly tied to #livefreeThursday with Suzie Eller and Bonnie Gray’s #BelovedBrews!
Please, click on a hashtag above and join us for all the goodness happening today.

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