Saturday, February 8, 2020

Clarity comes from action, not thought.

            Do you do the yearly word thing? I'm curious to know how you come up with your word if so. For me, it's usually a word that starts singing loudly in my head around December as I pray for God to show me what He wants to do in the upcoming year. Last year my word was community and if I'm being entirely honest, that was kind of scary to me. I had a strong desire to belong somewhere, but also a terrifying fear of being truly known. I knew that this would mean a change in behavior and thought process. I knew that walls would have to come down if light was to come in. I begrudgingly accepted this word and all that came with it, and oh how I have been blessed! I have found myself in the company of a community that has seen me, loved me, held me, and showed up for me. I belong. I am known. It is good.
            After this great fulfillment of promise, I was increasingly excited for this year's word! What would it be? It was about mid-December that I started praying for a word that would just blow my mind, right? Like, restoration, beginnings, refreshment, prosper, leadership...something that reflected the healing of the past year and something exciting!
"Clarity."
Ummm...'scuse me? No, that's not it. How about courage? Or purpose? That sounds so fun!
"Clarity."
BORING! I don't want that one. My sister in law gets spend and you are offering me clarity?! I felt like Oliver Twist. "Please sir, may I have another?"
"Clarity."
Snoozefest!
            I've learned that no matter how stubborn I am, God will keep pressing me anyways so I disappointedly accepted to cling to this word and almost as soon as I did, I became acutely aware how my brain had already been desiring a clarity. I had asked God for some very specific things, mostly centered around communication, and felt His response of "well quit fogging crap up" get louder with every ask. 
            My brain is so loud, you guys. I hate it so much and have often prayed an accusing prayer of “You made me this way! It's your fault my brain doesn't know how to shut up." I'm a person that requires noise and chaos and music at all times because otherwise I can easily lose control of my thoughts. Before I know it, I'm lost in a world of anxiety and doubt and worry over absolutely the dumbest things. Silence and stillness are my worst enemies, but also happen to be a requirement for communication and surrender. How can I conquer my inability to be alone with my thoughts?
            I was encouraged to practice some time in silence by one of my spiritual leaders. It. Was. EXCRUTIATING! I had to literally smack my own hand as it instinctively reached for the volume button that promised to drown away the deafening noise that silence created for me. However, each time I practiced this, the time between start and panic extended a bit longer. Once where three minutes felt like hell on Earth, now I found 10 minutes had come and gone and I forgot that I was timing. It was changing me. There was a new quietness that I could summon in the brain that once bled insanity.
            Also, in this change, I began to seek self-soothing methods less and less. My desire for alcohol had always stemmed from a desire to force relaxation onto the internal battlefield that was my mind. Hard day? A glass of wine will bring me down. High anxiety? A few beers would allow me to feel comfortable in my surroundings. As God called me to clarity, I had also become aware of how little I was drinking. I found myself in situations that would normally be triggering, and here I was, more comfortable than ever before. I was proud of my new healthy choices! Look at me, adulting without coping. Healing is fun!
            But wait, there's more. A gentle nudging to more clarity. To put down the wine altogether. What? Why? I'm doing great. Why would you call me to quit now in this time of so little? I ignored it because it didn't seem right. It didn't feel necessary. As this new calling continued to rear its head, another awareness, another clarity, rose. Quitting drinking meant yet another change in my community that I'd been clinging so tightly to. Many of my relationships centered around me being the girl that's down to meet up for wine therapy. I believed that if I took that away, I'd lose friends. I'd lose invitations and inclusion. Maybe I'd even lose respect. 
"Do you love them more than me? Do you trust me?"
            The truth is, I do trust Him. And in this season of clarity, I am aware that if He is calling me towards something, or in this case away from something, it's for a reason. It's for a purpose. Praying on my knees in this clarity, terrified of what this means for my friendships, I was reminded of the words a woman five years ago spoke over my name. She didn't know me at all. She just had my name and used it to pray for words that would prophecy over my life. I hadn't even thought about these words in so long, so it came as a surprise when I could suddenly recall them as if she had just spoken them to me yesterday. She told me I was a person that needed things in order before I could move forward. That I liked lists and I liked to know exactly what things meant before I could say yes. And then she told me to abandon these things, for God has set a race before me that would require complete abandon and surrender and vulnerability. She told me that I would not be forced to run this race, but should I choose to, I would never be alone, and I would be victorious. So, my friends, this is me stepping up to the starting line. In obedience, I am also stepping away from alcohol.
            I want you all to know, I am not doing this in shame, nor am I announcing this to shame or separate from you. I am praying that my relationships will stay intact, although I am not naive to the fact that this choice may alter the way that they look. I sincerely hope that you will still love me. I pray that you will support my decision and still invite me to your parties and not let an awkwardness grow between us. In turn, I promise that this will never be the annoying sober friend that calls attention to the fact that I'm not drinking. This will be my one and only announcement. I will never be bothered to come and meet you for a therapy session in which you choose to drink wine while I sip on my water. 
            I don't have a time frame on this. I don't know if it's for 30 days, or for the year of 2020, or forever. I really don't. I am following a leading and I'll keep doing that until I feel a different one. I would love your prayers and encouragement, while I welcome your questions. I love you all. You mean everything to me, and I hope you feel the weight of that more than the weight of change. 
Keep going.