Solitary Confinement

In anticipation of this week's discipline of solitude, I really did not have any fears to speak of.  I'm pretty good at being alone, if I do say so myself.  I actually really like it, and often crave it.  I've often thought to, well, myself, that my own company is often my favorite to keep.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm not an antisocial hermit or anything.  I love my friends and family dearly and the fondest memories I'll forever hold are with them, but I need a balance between time among them and time with myself--the scale often weighs heavier on the latter. 

 However, upon reflection of my personal practice of solitude, I've come to realize that my practice has been incredibly selfish.  A spiritual practice of solitude would have to take a breaking of these selfish habits.  I would have to redirect my solitude from myself to opening my heart and mind to God.  Unfortunately, I came to this realization a little too late.  In fact, I came to it just now, writing this thing.  Over Thanksgiving Break, my solitary habits, proved, well, habitual.  I had more time to myself than usual and I reveled in that fact, taking that time for myself, not even thinking twice of redirecting that time.  In anticipation of the assignment I knew how easy it was going to be to find that time, but what I did not anticipate was how easily and unconsciously I would fall into the habit of selfish solitude.

Solitude helps us practice dying to ourselves by the practice of denying ourselves.  As it would appear, I'm quite attached to myself.  I said before that my own company is often my favorite to keep.  Upon reflection, I'm ever aware of my desperate need to have God be my favorite company to keep, even when I'm alone.

Simplicity

And, we're back!  Yet again, you'll get to hear all about my escapades in the area of spiritual discipline.  And might I say, I can finally claim to have completely crushed one of these things for once...just kidding.  I thought saying so may have miraculously changed the outcome.  Alas, it is still not the case.

This was one of the disciplines I was quite worried about.  To me, practicing a simple lifestyle meant dressing plainly, forgoing makeup, abstaining from most technology, and, really, culture in general.  And honestly, I find a lot of joy in these things.  I really enjoy picking out my clothes, doing my hair and makeup, and one of my absolute favorite pastimes is watching television and movies.  All three of these things are a creative outlet for me, and I honestly believe that I glorify God in doing each of these things appropriately.  And so, the thought of having to give these things up did not really make much sense to me.  As it turns out, my idea of "simplicity" was actually more like asceticism--that is, completely separating oneself from culture.

Simplicity, as I think I understand it now, is putting "first things first."  Matthew 6 tell is to "Seek first His kingdom ..."  When the things of this world become our "first things," that is when the practice of simplicity steps in.  We reevaluate whether or not God is who we turn to first, who we seek first, and if He's not, we need to change that--maybe by refraining from certain activities or gadgets.

The goal is to have this practice of simplicity make its way into our inward life, and this looks like freedom from anxiety.  Trusting that God sustains and provides, that what we have is a gift, that He is enough.  Now, for someone like me,who is clinically diagnosed with anxiety, freedom from anxiety is an unrealistic notion.  But in the worries outside of my anxiety, for there are still many of those, I can't really claim that I turn to God first, that I completely trust Him.  More often than not, I turn to myself.

 So the goal for this week was to check myself in my worry and turn in prayer to God.  The only problem with this is that I'm often unaware of my worries.  They're almost always there, and so I become used to carrying them around with me.  The problem with trying to change my instincts--by turning in prayer rather than turning to myself--is that they're, well, instincts.  I don't even remember any times during the day this week that I was able to follow through on my plan.  And so, once again, I've barely managed to skim the surface of what there was to discover or accomplish with this discipline.  But I will continue, I will check myself, and who knows, maybe I will finally get to say that I totally crushed this thing.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

Peace,

Steph

Hitting the Book(s)

Study, study, study.  It seems like that's all I do these days.  Or rather, avoid studying and spend that time of not studying fretting over the fact that I should be studying.  It's a nasty circle of events that I never seem to learn from.  I guess I'm just a last-minute kind of gal--a fact I might as well accept (or something that I could work on...nah.)  Anyway, I was kind of annoyed at the prospect of this week's discipline being study.  I spend enough time in the books as it is.  Besides, many of my assignments include the study of the Bible and theology already, so really, isn't that enough to cover the assignment?

Not really.  Like every discipline before this one, I did not really understand what it actually meant.  When I study the word for academic reasons, though I can be and often am blessed by it, it is easy to get caught up and consumed by just the academic part of it.  The discipline of study is meant, not to finish an assignment or get a good grade, but to reflect on God's word, apply it to our daily lives, and to grow closer to God.  This discipline includes four steps, according to Foster: Repetition, Concentration, Comprehension, and Reflection.  We also discussed the importance of humility in study--to acknowledge the need we have for a deeper knowledge of God through His word.  And so, keeping these steps in mind, my plan was to take a suggested passage, 1 Corinthians 13, and read it on multiple occasions throughout the week.  It is easy to write off familiar passages, such as 1 Corinthians 13, with the knowledge that we know everything there is to know about this passage.  This is, in fact, completely false.  There is always something new to see, a different  phrase that sticks out, a reminder we had forgotten, that can be taken away from rereading a familiar passage.  

So, with my plan set in place I was ready to finally nail one of these disciplines.  In reality, it went much worse than any of the rest of them did.  I read the passage a total of two, measly times.  It's one thing to set out a perfect plan, but it's another to actually follow it.  So I don't really have much to share or say beyond the fact that I really do intend to follow through with this execution in the days, and maybe weeks to come.  Maybe at a later date I'll be better prepared to share my insights on the love chapter.  

Until next time!

My Story

This blog post is a bit of a deviation from what I normally do.  For one, it's not Tuesday night and I'm not scrambling at the last minute practice a discipline and post my reflections.  Instead, I've been instructed to share my story--more specifically, to share my spiritual journey up until this point in my life.  I guess I don't know any better way to start than to just jump right in.  Here goes nothing!

My story really starts with my parents' story.  My mom met my dad while she was teaching in New York, where my dad is from.  Their's is truly a remarkable, romantic, everything-that's-good-about-the-world kind of story--But that's their story to share, not mine.  At the heart of their love story, at the heart of their relationship, is Christ.  I may be biased, but their marriage seems to be the true manifestation of a Christian marriage.  And everything that flows from their marriage is grounded in Christ.  This includes, most prominently to me, the raising of me and my siblings.  My parents diligently led us in the faith in the most caring, gentle, and faithful way.  I am the youngest of six children and all six of us have professed our faith in Christ--a true testament to my parents, but most of all a testament to God's faithfulness.

And so I grew up knowing and believing that I had an identity in Christ.  I never had a true conversion experience, as is often the case with is Christian-home kids, and sometimes I envy people of their dramatic conversion stories.  But as I reflect on my upbringing I realize that having it any other way just wouldn't be my story.  Just as my story could not be anyone else's.  My story is still miraculous.

I went through elementary and middle school feeling as normal and carefree as any kid can during those awkward years.  It was in high school that it seemed like life decided to weigh down on and shake me.  My first few years of high school were fine; I had a few great friends and we had a blast not caring about whether or not people thought we were cool (because we knew we were, duh)  It was my senior year that I started to get my bouts of anxiety and was soon diagnosed with an anxiety disorder.  I remember scrolling through pages upon pages about my illness on the internet.  The more I read the more I felt like I was drowning in the statistics and my own despair.  It was hard for me to accept that this would always be a part of my life; it was a phase that I would never grow out of.

I have a very close family and am also generally pretty self-reflective and so at first I tried to cope with my anxiety by turning to myself and other people for comfort.  I thought I was turning to God when I would open my Bible and desperately try to find comfort in the words that I read, but in a way, I was still trying to comfort myself.  It all just became too much.  I think I had to hit the bottom to finally have it click that I could  not do it by myself--I couldn't do it at all, in fact.  I've never felt closer to God than when I really and truly gave my pain completely to Him.  It still holds true now; whenever I feel especially anxious, I also feel God's presence more poignantly in my life.  Obviously, this causes a lot of mixed feelings in me.  I'm now at this point where I want to be able to turn to God in the good and bad times.  I've met Him in the dark, but I want to meet Him in the light even more.

This is only a small piece of the pie that is my spiritual journey.  Actually, a more appropriate analogy might be something like a road (original!) because my spiritual journey is still going.  Anyway, I hope this has given insight into who I am, where I come from, and who I hope to be.

Peace,
Steph