Dear Anxiety,

Dear Anxiety,

     I have thought about what I would say to you if could for quite some time. Many times it is just a string of expletives, but that is when you have me by the throat. It's those moments that my feelings are a mixture of fear and hatred. When I am able to hold you off though its more curiosity. You are the greatest mystery in my life. You are the constant unknown and the reason that planning is hard. It may seem weird to be writing to you, to an idea. To me, however, you are much more. I can see you and you look like me. Not entirely, though, you have dark circles under your bloodshot eyes. Your hair stands on end like mine does when I run my fingers through it too much. You seem to tower over me, but your back bent like you carry the weight of a thousand people's worries. You mumble constantly spinning tales of horrible possibilities and you don't seem to have a grasp on reality. At times you are as imposing as a mountain, but sometimes weaker than a gust of wind.

     Maybe you don't understand what you do to me, maybe its just part of who you are. Let me tell you about the hell that you have put me through. I can have plans with friends, plans I am excited for with friends whom I love and you ruin them. You make me questions everything. Will there be too many people? Will there be too few? Will I hate it? And these are the benign ones. The terrible ones are more like this. Do my friends want me there? Do they even like me? Do I even matter? Before long there aren't even questions anymore just terrible thoughts and pictures in my head. I start to lose my grip on reality. I start to hyperventilate. I feel like the world is crashing in around me. I feel weak and dizzy. You ruin my plans because I can't do anything after that.

     You make school so challenging. I will try doing an assignment that I am more than capable of doing well, but you take one stray thought and run with it. It starts with questioning one tiny part of my assignment, but then you make me questions if I can really do this assignment at all. You make me question if I am just faking it. I ask if I should really be in grad school at all. Then you convince me that I will never be qualified to finish. That I will never have a successful life. That I will be a disappointment to my family and friends. That I will fail at life. When it all comes at once, another panic attack grips me. And the worst part is I know that you are lying. I know I shouldn't believe you, but the hold that you have takes over.

     This is only the tip of the iceberg, you can ruin any situation and make me look like a freak that can't function. You can keep me up all night freaked out about the way I said an off-handed comment. You make life harder to live. I want to understand how you do this, it makes no sense. You are like the doorway to doubt and worry that I cannot close sometimes. If I could talk to you face to face I would ask you why. Why me? Why during the times when you are least welcome? I have realized though that you are misery and you long company. Though there are times that I cannot resist you, I am going to fight tooth and nail against you when I can.

     There are times when I can take you by the throat and stop you. Those times are few, but they happen more often all the time. For as big of a jackass as you are you are losing your effectiveness. And I will continue to do whatever I can to get rid of you for good. Not just that I am going to work to make sure that you leave others alone as well. No one wants you around, no one likes the way you make them feel. So not only am I going to work to undo the pain you inflict, I am actively going to work to destroy you. Wipe you from society. Make you nothing more than a faint memory in the minds of those liberated from your hold.

     I will win. You will lose. This is a termination of our relationship. Don't come back.

Never yours again,

-Jared

Wanderer No More

Today I changed the name of my blog. To most this will seem insignificant. To me, it is a monumental change. Originally my blog was called Commissioned Wanderer. I picked this name because I loved the quote "Not all who wander are lost". While this is true, it wasn't for me. I was lost, I was drifting, I was hiding from any decision that would set me on a planned path again. I was in this position because I didn't think I was strong enough for another thing to fall through. I had been pushed to the breaking point and I had crumbled under the pressure. I was in a bad place.

And this is exactly where I needed to be. I though it was dark and I was drifting it was rock bottom and God used it to build me up better than before. Without this period of wandering, I would have probably continued in my life with a nominal faith, mildly depressed, and consumed with fears of the failure. Instead, my faith has been put to the test and I have a real personal relationship with the Creator of the universe. I have gone to counseling and learned how to fight my depression tooth and nail. And I embrace failure, this was the slowest coming, but I have learned that failure is simply a starting line for something new and better.

So still you might ask, why the name change? Well in the Bible, anytime that there was a great change in someone's life their name would be changed. Abram to Abraham, Jacob to Israel, Naomi to Mara, and Simon to Peter. You get the picture name changes were a big deal. While I thought about change my name from Jared to something else I decided the legal documents would be too extensive. And my blog name had much more relevance to how I saw myself than my given name.

I no longer want to wander. It was what I needed for a season, but it is no lifestyle. Do I want to live an adventurous life? Absolutely and I plan to, but I will also have direction. My current direction comes from Isaiah 61:1:

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.

God has laid it on my heart to bring the good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and open the prisons for those who are bound. God shows me daily how I can use what I am learning in Grad School to minister to people in these ways. I am excited to one day be a counselor and show people the good news of the Gospel and bind up the hearts that have been broken in this world. That is why I have changed the name to Commissioned Heart Binder. This is what I feel God is calling me to. This is my direction.

Amber and Rust

Nature's beauty, a sweet refrain
Soothing deep and lasting pain
The chains of life fall away
Color blooms from hues of grey

Ancient mountains, valleys, rivers
My heart from pride it delivers
Lofty heights ringed with mist
Where man and nature coexist

Walking among sentinel pines
My body and soul realign
Underfoot leaves of amber and rust
Dispelling anxiety with the lightest gust

Divinely wrought through wind and water
Able to see the mark of the Potter
Ravines that hold the coolness of dark
Flying free with the sparrow and lark

Rippling waves dancing in firelight
The choir of the moon eliciting delight
My spirit communes here with the Creator
Putting off lesser and seeking the greater

Advent: Week One

Advent is the Latin word for coming it is the season of the year that proceeds Christmas and is the waiting and longing for the birth of Jesus. It is the period that represents the tension in our lives between being saved by grace and waiting for the fulfillment of all promises. 

Last night we had the first Advent gathering. The first week is hope and it was exactly what my heart needed. I have been longing this year, but often without hope. My longing lacked Christ at the center. Without Christ providing hope for longing it can be very painful and destructive to the soul. Last night was what I needed to realign my focus on the Saviour. When longing is focused on Christ I find it produces abundant hope, but when Christ is absent from the equation it only produces despair.   

My favorite piece of scripture from the night was from Isaiah 61:1-4: 

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

because the Lord has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim freedom for the captives

and release from darkness for the prisoners, 

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

a planting of the Lord

for the display of his splendor.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins

and restore the places long devastated;

they will renew the ruined cities

that have been devastated for generations.

This to me this is the picture of hope. Not only the hope in the gospel message but our ability to be the hope bringings to this lost generation. The hope that we have in the Saviour that has come, but who will come again to the fulfilment of all promises is not only our message but our own hope. This seasons of longing reminds us that things are not yet perfect, but that perfection in the form of Jesus was sent, has redeemed the people of God, and will, in time, wipe away every tear. 

In part from the realization that I have spent much of this year longing without hope and in part from the reflection portion of last nights Advent gathering, my desire to bring hope to the hurting has returned. I have spent a good deal of time focused on myself and returning hope from depression. This was a healthy period of inward focus, but the fear of focusing outwards again has been painfully overwhelming. I have wanted to focus outward in the new work environment that God has placed me in and this Advent season feels like the push I need. 

The directed reflection for last night's gathering was to think of three people that need hope and how can you share hope with them in a way that points them to Jesus. I knew the instant that it was read that the three people who need hope in my life the most are my three coworkers. They do not know Jesus and I can be the vessel that God uses to bring it to them. I am still not certain how to do this, but they have been placed on my heart and God will show me the how. 

We often forget that this is a season of longing and hope for the Savior that is coming and has come. I pray that all of you are filled with this longing and hope as Christmas approaches. I also pray that God will lead you to three people that you can share this hope with who are in desperate need of it. 

Okay, But Not Content

Being in your mid-20s can be the worst.

Don't get me wrong I love parts of it. I love that I am no longer a child and I have the freedom that comes with that. I love that even though I am an adult, I can still do crazy, impulsive things. I am about to drive 13 hours with friends to see friends for a couple days and then drive 13 hours back and go right back to work. I know that I will not be able to do that at many other stages in life. I decide what I want to do. I can watch what I want, I can do what I want, and I can go where I want and I don't have to worry about anyone else.

At this point, you are probably wondering why I started with the statement that I did. The reason behind why I think this stage of life can be the worst is the conversations. When I enter a conversation with anyone who is a different age than I am and even people my own age there are certain questions that always come up. Some these are:

       So are you married?
       Are you dating?
       Have you found that special someone?
       Do you love your job?
       Is that what you want to do for the rest of your life?
       What do you want to do with the rest of your life?
     
Don't get me wrong some people genuinely care, but there are some that prying for information, judging you, or waiting to give you advice. You can tell the different from the genuine people from the obnoxious ones easily. The obnoxious ones use phrases like these:

       Back in my day...
       If you were really trying...
       Singleness is a gift...
       I know this nice girl...
       You really need to figure your life out...
       At my age, I had my life together...
       You're not trying hard enough...

I will admit it isn't as cut and dry as I make it sound. There are genuine people who will use these statements and there are obnoxious one that will belie their true intentions. The point that I am making is ask better questions. Don't stay at small talk. Go deeper. Ask me about my hopes and dreams. Ask me about why I love this stage of my life. Ask me about the fears I have.

The blanket answer to the questions is that I am in a transition period in my life. I am loving parts of it and hating parts of it. I am doing okay, but I am not content. Honestly, I will probably never content with my life here on Earth. I am not meant to and that is okay.

Missing it

The days are dwindling
the desire for excess rekindling
As our hearts and wallets take a hit
Memories of pain still lingering
I think we're missing it

Forgotten are the meaning and reason
To skip the empty acts is near treason
Getting what we want is life or death
But just the rat race of another season
Seeking to be better with each and every breath

Extra hours for a few extra bucks
Finding the perfect gift with the other schmucks
Not making it to the recital, the party, the skit
Creating emotional baggage filling dump trucks
I think we're missing it

Loved ones replaced with Facebook likes
Negative comments like enemy airstrikes
Dismissed are the widows and orphans
Those in need mounted on pikes
Living our life for a high of endorphins

Hours away or all alone
No one reaches out through card or phone
Painful thoughts of family and lights all lit
Families still broken from stones thrown
I think we're missing it

Writing is Hard

I have avoided this for a while.
I didn't want to come back, I didn't want to write.
I wanted to hide.

Writing is hard.
Sometimes the words won't come.
Sometimes they don't feel right.
But that's not why.

Some can write about far off ideas and place.
I can't.
I have to write about what I feel, what I see.

That's why writing is hard.
I can't hide in my words.
I can only pour out my soul, with every word.
I have to lay bare my deepest thoughts.

It's not only hard, it's scary.
It's the most vulnerable thing I do.
I hate being vulnerable.

I have learned something trying this approach.
When you try to hold everything in you end up empty.
I am tired of empty.
I am tired of hiding.

I start this adventure anew.
I am not sure what it will hold.
I am not sure where it will go.

I would rather be judged for who I am,
then die without ever being known.
Darkness cannot survive in the light.
Hatred cannot survive in love.