Living Free From Addictions Step Two: Addmitting What You Really Want

…
Real happiness is found where your roots are.
-Tim Keller

Ask a drug addict what they want. It’s not the drug.
It’s the pleasure, the high, the euphoric sense of being.

As a meaning addict I need to realize that I’m not really seeking meaning.
So what am I seeking (what are you seeking?)

Easy. I want happiness.

There’s a few common beliefs about happiness.
1. It can be attained
2. It cannot be attained

The cynic, in his search for happiness, tries, fails, tries harder and then finally gives up, finally declares happiness unattainable. The searcher tries, fails, tries harder… and then tell herself to keep trying, keep changing circumstances, relationships, jobs,…

I’ve been both the cynic and the searcher. But my addiction stems from searching– all addictions do–for something I think I need. At the base of it, happiness. I need it. Don’t I? Don’t we? Is it not a human right (as our constitution argues) to pursue happiness?
Well, this is a tough one. But without going to far down the rabbit hole, I’ll just say yes, I believe we are meant to be happy**.

Sooooo… what to do? How to eighty-six the addiction and not sacrifice happiness.Well, that will come with time. BUT, for now I think discovering true happiness and where it comes from is very important. Otherwise there is no reason to abandon our addictions.. So…Reflecting on what true happiness is, can it be attained, and how. Phew… here we go.

I heard an illustration once about a blessed (happy, full, fulfilled) man…

He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season
and its leaf does not wither.
Psalm 1

Okay, so this man is like a tree. But not just any tree, but a pretty rad tree planted by not just one stream but STREAMS. Lucky tree. BUT. (and here’s where I get excited) Though this tree is clearly placed in quite the perfect argricultural eden, what’s interesting is, this tree is STILL subject to seasons. It’s not always bearing fruit, not always doing something meaningful in its… treeness. Not only that, but it’s not supernatural sheltered from the weather around it. Storms, gales, maybe springtime river floods.

And yet, this tree is still planted. Still alive. Still drinking deeply at the root from its source.

This tree–this blessed man’s fundamental happiness–comes not from what’s weathering around him or what he’s accomplishing within himself. His fundamental happiness (blessedness, worth, fulfillment) is drawn up from the root. It is essentially about where He is planted.

So by seeking happiness in what’s happening around or within us, we’re seeking it wrongly. AND, our addictions will never deliver.

Thanks Tim Keller for bringing that Psalm to life. Props to you, man. Credit, credit, credit.

** happy is a word that is often made to be the shallow version of joyful. In the sense I use it, I mean fulfilled, blessed, satisfied, and truly joyful, though not always fully joyful.

Living Free From Addictions Step One: Admitting You’re An Addict

My name is Megan, and I’m addicted to meaning…

I am not being flippant when I say that all of us suffer from addiction. Nor am I reducing the meaning of addiction. I mean in all truth that the psychological, neurological, and spiritual dynamics of full-fledge addiction are actively at work within every human being. The same process that is responsible for addiction to alcohol and narcotics are also responsible for addiction to ideas, work, relationships, power, moods, fantasies, and a endless variety of things.–Gerald May (more here)

There you have it. I’m an addict, you’re an addict.

Try to fight it…try… you still are. (wow, upon reading through this, it sounds sooo depressing… don’t worry, things will look up!) It might be an actual substance, something physical you need ( food) or don’t need (Youtube videos). It might be something you can’t see or touch– a feeling, an emotion– maybe a person (known or fantazied about). Your addiction may be lurking close to the surface or buried deep under years of ignorance or denial.Whatever the case, it’s there and it needs to be dealt with.

….When I say I’m addicted to meaning, I mean I want it badly enough that I consciously and other times unconsciously do all I can to have it. It fuels me, I enjoy it, and yet… I never get enough to reach that desired high. Oh, and when I don’t have it… the downward spiral of addiction begins.

But I’m not wallowing here. I’m actually glad. =) —> (see, smiley face)

I see it now, so there’s hope.

The new year is coming up. And this year, I want to live free. Free from a number of things, but namely, free from addictions.

What’s next?

Well, taking one step at a time.

…step two is a’comin…

Humungo thanks to CK and MS. Love you, sisters.

A 3-yr-old Once Said…

“It was hu-normous!”

“Is Jesus on the roof?!”

“There’s more than one way to do things in the world.”

“I think I’m gunna be a little grumper today.”

“Ba-hun-guff”= bahumbug

(In response to hearing God can do anything)
“Well that’s just terrific!”

“Fee- fi-fo-fum, I smell a wittle bum!”

Interstices: The in-between

Interstice: a short space that intervenes between things; a gap or break in something usually continuous.

A few hours ago, I had no idea the word interstice existed. We’ve only just been acquainted and, I must admit, I’m already in like.

Here’s why:
I’m a recent college grad. (This may be enough explanation for some of you, but for the rest, …) For months now, I’ve felt like I’m ducked tape to a swinging pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth– continual motion, yet going no where. It’s almost sickening, like breathing week-old air while waiting for a flight. And it’s definitely disappointing always anticipating the first glimpses of shore–the destination for “what’s next,” but viewing nothing but blue, the un-ending interval of in-between.

It’s easy to feel hopeless, to let the mind get carried away… Maybe all my childhood dreams are just that, childish. Or worse, maybe I stepped off the silver path, made some really stinky decisions, and screwed it all up for myself. Even worse, maybe God really doesn’t care if I live a mediocre, dull life.

Then, this lovely little gem in my inbox:

...the interstices of the world and of our lives are not places without hope. Christianity uniquely addresses the “in-between,” infusing the seemingly trivial or chaotic with significance and even power, transforming the non-places of our lives and experience into places of Christ’s presence. From this view, the incarnation and the ascension can serve as doctrinal shorthands for Christ’s ongoing priestly ministry of reconciliation and healing. Indeed, the possible transformation of a non-place to a place very much reminds me of Peter’s Christological reading of Hosea‘s prophetic witness, where Peter says that “once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy”(1 Peter 2:10, Hosea 1:6,9, and 10).
— Bryan Bademan, MacLaurin CSF, thoughts on “Non-Place: An Introduction to Supermodernity,” by Marc Auge

There’s significance in the small things; in the in-between. David is just one man, yet in his life he had many long periods of almost uncertainty. I say almost, because he held on to a promise, even in the in-between, he knew he’d be king.

I need to think more about this, maybe read this great book from whence that lovely quote sprouted. Until then (and as always), I’d love your wisdom.

Getting Dirty

Relationships are a tricky thing. Such a blessing, they can often feel like the weightiest burden we bear. At times, it seems a relationship will never unfurl to much more than the bud in which it began. Other times, the growing pains of this unfurling is worse than than any comparison I can muster.
For a couple of weeks, my church was going through a short sermon series called Dirty Jobs. Essentially it was about a guy named Paul getting real with a church of misfit, often misbehaving Jesus-followers.

He wrote a pretty raw letter, and laid it out bare. And I have to think, he probably didn’t love having to get his hands so dirty with these people and their problems. But out of love, out of the knowledge that It’s God’s desire for us, he did. What came out of it? — The Beauty of Forgiveness.

In between these two Sundays, the Holy Spirit was at work in my heart. I was convicted–deeply so. I wrote two letters in this time. One of confession, knowing, another of rebuke. Both were a step into a dark room. A a slime flame of hope (that I’d followed the Spirit’s guidance) was my only comfort . It was more painful, vunerable, and frightening than many things I have done. It was “getting dirty”, doing true relationship.

I write this, not to commend myself, but to encourage anyone who stumbles across this post. It was worth it.

In both scenarios, more than I could imagine has happened. Reconciliation from the one, and confession from the other. Just today I talked on the phone with the individual I wrote the letter of rebuke to. Though not afraid, I was almost expectant that our relationship would be hindered or altered. Instead, there was much joy and freedom.

I’ll end with this: When Pilot washed his hands of Jesus death, he was not making himself clean. The responsibility he had tainted him as though he’d bathed himself in blood. He wasn’t making peace, he was keeping it. And we are called, as believers in Christ, to be makers of peace, to be in true relationship.

10 Things That Bring Me Joy These Days

I decided to do this, for my sanity and for the sake of joy.
In no particular order…

1. The smell of crushed leaves
2. Hot coffee paired with something peanut-buttery
3. Kissing Baxy’s cheek. (8-mo old I nanny for)
4. Reminiscing
5. My pillow
6. Listening to my dear friends making music to Jesus
7. Writing my bro letters, reading his
8. Things Lilah Bea says (e.g. “Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum I smell a wittle bum”)
9. Listening to Tim Keller and Gungor on my commute
10. Sliding in my socks on a wood floor

Getting Schooled by the Spirit

On the way home from work tonight, I feel it.
Heaviness.

It’s easy enough to ignore it, distract myself with the radio or listening to a podcast during my forty minute commute.
But I am compelled to be silent–turn it all off and tune in.
The heaviness is still there.
I’m swallowed by it.
Thoughts of failure, rejection, worthlessness. I feel as surrounded spiritually as I do physically, cars on all sides, buildings, motion. But amidst my own prideful, self-centeredness, I hear the Spirit compelling me. Hushing my harried mind, He invites me
to be silent and learn.

Rejection or acceptance by others (humans) holds no weight on the scale of worth.
(Is 2:22)

I struggle with this. It’s not so much struggling with how people view me, how they react to me, but rather the joy or pain I find in them. I, and we, are created to be in relationship, right? Naturally we feel good when others accept us and love us well. I am struggling to believe God alone satisfies this part of humanity. He speaks again.

It’s true. I do.
Imagine a feast– all you can eat, more!–the banquet table of the lamb. When you eat from my bounty, when you feast with me, you are full and over-flowing. You are satisfied and need no more. (Is. 55)

Then what is this pleasure, this goodness that comes from those you’ve put in our lives?

Chewing Gum. It is good, flavorful, and created for your delight, but never to fill you, never to make you full.

** Words in italics represent the illumination that God provided for me, not what I would consider the authoritative word of God. :}

Present to His Presence

The universe operates as an orderly system, not by impersonal laws but by the creative voice of the immanent and universal Presence, the Logos.

Tonight on my run, I stopped.
This is not good, because, you see, I am trying to train for a half marathon.
Real runners don’t stop. They pee their own britches before they stop.
Wellp.

In my defense, I was captivated.
There is nothing quite so beautiful as a fall evening–no wind, just sun– reflected and rippling on the lake, infusing with into almost unnatural hues. The lake was so still too. A lone duck drifting securely on the surface, leaving behind a soft, misshapen V.

I had been trying to listen to God for the last three miles. Praying and then waiting, and then suddenly coming to a conscious realization that I was thinking about something else again. Ugh.

Father, I just ask for voice, for your presence.

Then I had a realization (thank you Jesus). I’ve been praying the wrong prayer entirely. I need to ask to be more present to Him. He’s the unchanging One, the always present.

Some truth came to mind. In Him all things live and move and have their being. My mind rested on each of these concepts, and I thought of the duck– how securely she lived, moved, and existed on and in the lake. How I, and all of creation, are upheld, hemmed in, and literally unable to remove ourselves from His presence.
… if I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, your right hand shall uphold me.

Whether we skate the surface of His presence, nearly unaware, or dive in deep, it can not change His permanant presence. I hope this brings you great comfort, great joy, and great desire to be present to Him as He is to you.

Check these bible passages out, yo! Psalm 139 (the whole thing, but especially vs. 7-10) Acts 17: 27-28; Colossians 1:17

True Humanity

This is how we know we are in Him [God the Father] Whoever claims to live in Him must walk as Jesus did. 1 John 2:6

I read this and stopped.
You see, Jesus walked on water. This is a problem, because… I can’t.

Before I get too far into this, I just want to say–

1. This is me thinking on paper and
2. I don’t have it all figured out. (I don’t plan on that happening any time soon, either.)

Back to walking like Jesus.
So, I’m almost positive 1 John 2:6 is not meant to be taken quite that literally. In other translations this verse says “walk in the same manner” and stuff like that. So, it’s about life and our “walk” of life.

But it STILL rocks me. Because Jesus “walked” so radically–did some very very unconventional, darn near impossible things. I mean, the guy rose people from the dead. So even if I don’t take 1 John 3:6 literally, I need to take His life’s work seriously and put it up next to the arch of my own life.

This is the part where everyone’s Sunday school self begins to shout at them, but Jesus is God! And then we all feel better about ourselves because we’re not and so the pressure to live like the God-man suddenly melts away and we’re back to our average, everyday, walking-down-cement-side walks.

And yet, Jesus, (now this blows my mind) tells His buddies, “whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do, and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.” (John 14:12)

There’s lots of argument about what this means. I don’t fully know. BUT, I do think, looking at the surrounding context, Jesus is making a point: I’m human, you’re human. You can do what I have done. It’s possible.

It’s possible.

How? Well– surrounding context–Go to the Father. That’s what Jesus did. I wish I knew the number of times he said “…The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority, but the Father who dwells in me does his works.” (John 14:10)

It’s not really amazing that Jesus is God. He’s always been God.
What’s amazing is that Jesus is human. That he was fully human and yet lived a perfect, powerful life. How? Through the power of the Holy Spirit at the feet of the Father.

He was submissive, humble, and willing. He, as God, did not consider equality with God a thing to be grasped. He was humble and human. Yet, he did not let living in His human husk for thirty years stop Him from living a radical, divine life. He asked the Father, believed, and obeyed.

He became humanity not just to die for us as the perfect substitute, but to show us what true humanity is.

The Poop Knife & Laughing at Life

No one is listening until you fart. ~Author Unknown

It’s been months. I’ve avoided it like the plague, and now, I can escape the poop knife no longer. Let me explain.

The poop knife is part of a diabolical system called cloth diapers. As a nanny, I work for a very environmentally-conscious family, and really, so far using the cloth hasn’t been that bad!

Until solid food.

I used to chuck the cloth diapers in a well-lined garbage can, Momma would wash them, and no worries. But no longer is that an option. Hence, the poop knife. And yep, the name says it all. Maybe poop spatula would be more descriptive, but you get the picture.

The funny thing is, the poop knife is only the cherry on top. Lately it seems any inanimate object is ready to turn on me…

Scenario 1. I’d been using this bristly, really nice-looking brush for … a couple weeks probably… to clean dishes too big for the diswasher or too covered in crusties. Then, just the other day, I inspected the brush to find it covered ((COVERED)) in human hair.
“Uhhhh, did someone use this brush to clean the floor?” I asked my housemates, trying not to gag.
— “I think that’s for cleaning the bathroom, Megs”

Scenario 2. I’m enjoying a nice hot shower, when, to my dismay I realize I’ve left my razor in the cabinet. Well, might as well put use to my long appendages and reach out into the nearby cabinet. I’m fishing around, just feeling it out, when kerplunk.
I’ve knocked my favorite body spray into the open, unflushed toilet.

Why all this shnasty-happenings narrative?

I think it’s funny.
Yes at first it’s annoying, and can really put a person on edge. And after getting over myself, sometimes I have a rare moment of absolute clarity. And those poop knives in my life bring me back to the hilarity of it all.
Life is so increadibly out of our control it’s almost hilarious.

Soooo, what your poop knife?

Only a few hours after writing this I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet. :}

Meg Writes Life

stories & essays on life and living with loss

Author: Megan