It is vacation time, for what we could muster in a state hopping with COVID and our personal losses mounting on several fronts. To complement the restorative glory of our seaside rental, our daughter and grans joined us for two weeks.

I dropped my girl and the kids off at the Orlando airport last night. Headed back to the condo I passed through a log jam caused by five fire trucks and one of the most horrible wrecks I have ever seen. On a darkened stage pelted by rain, there were 10-15 emergency personnel gathered in a circle, holding hands with heads bowed. Not a single fireman was working the wreck.

Sacred. And deeply moving.

Someone died. Perhaps a whole family. And someone else got that horrible news last night.

Horrible news is becoming the norm in a way that threatens to shake us to our core. I do not welcome death and loss, but I do welcome the unseating of everything in my life masquerading as security in a world where true Security can only be found in the Person of Jesus Christ. I am inviting God to use global and exclusive plights to spotlight this truth for me with greater clarity, to refresh my God orientation with Him in His rightful place.

Everyday life’s demands attempt to take Jesus off center-stage. To replace Him with urgencies, plans for reconfigurations to win back homeostasis in our lives, to coronate a false security that looks more like control and predictability than yieldedness to our wild God.

We need Jesus now more than ever. In Jesus there is peace. In Jesus we endure losses knowing there is coming a glorious restoration of all things. In Jesus there is healing and Hope.

Because of Christ, in a time of great pain, we have comfort to give others. (II Corinthians 1:4) ​With so much bad news, we have Good News to share. (I Corinthians 15:1)

Other mornings I awaken unaware, grab my phone and paralyze my mind scrolling through social media, emails, and text messages that came in during the night. The noise wipes clean my perceptions of the Divine, my sensitivity to His subtle whispers. 

Coffee. Coffee, please. 

One morning I can feel so connected, and the next, as though my day has started and this faith walk gets compartmentalized, relegating my interaction with Jesus to the confines of an appointment later in the day. 

Awareness of patterns is half the battle. Take inventory! 

The truth is, it is only in Christ "we live, and move and have our being". (Acts 17:28 NIV) Apart from Him, we can do nothing. Only connection with Jesus can produce the kind of fruit we want from our day or really even from our lives. (John 15:4-5) My life is not my own; it is not up to me to direct my own steps. (Jeremiah 10:23) And when I try, through omission, I lose ground. 

Now more than ever, with each day bringing new chaos, we must commune, connect, pursue, and draw near to our God. Our lives are designed to be an experience of immersion in Him, every moment of every day. As you draw near to Him, He promises to draw near to you! (James 4:8) 

Do not wait. Can you feel the urgency of the hour?

I am in the middle of a bathroom remodel project, the kind of vast under-taking that guts a room and slowly rebuilds it into a place of beauty. I contracted out most of the work, like the shower demolition, re-tiling, and custom wood butcher-block counters. But I have professional-level painting skills. 

For days I have sanded cabinets, primed, and painted. Yesterday I finally finished prepping the walls and ceiling and began the arduous task of painting the room. By the time I am ready to clean my equipment and brushes, typically in the middle of the night, I am utterly exhausted. You know how projects go. 

If a quality paintbrush is not cleaned properly, it dries stiff and hard and becomes useless. It takes time to clean it properly. A thorough cleaning requires copious amounts of running water— a stagnant bucket of water will not do. A painter then uses a dual-sided tool; a metal, sharp-pronged comb on one side, paired with a metal brush similar to a barbecue grill brush on the other side. 

I use the metal brush to repetitively scratch the exterior of the paintbrush’s ferrule stroking down the bristles under a running sink facet until the brush looks clean. But a mere squeeze reveals my brush is still full of paint! The efficient way to rid the brush of the paint is to use the sharp prongs of the metal comb to pierce the brush starting at the heel, splaying the bristles, and raking repetitively through the belly and toe of the brush, all the while under the gushing spigot. This method exposes the interior bristles to the cleansing flow until the brush is squeezed and the emerging water runs clear. Last night while rinsing my brushes, I accidentally pierced my finger with the sharp prongs of the cleaning comb, commingling my blood with the freshly flowing water and fading paint. 

​Can you see where I am going with this description? We can be raked and pierced by life’s assaults all day long and not benefit in the slightest. But God has a divine purpose behind the hardships we face in this life. With the spigot running continuously, He restores us during the transformation process if we position ourselves in Him. 

I want the fruit of my remodeled lavatory, but I do not look forward to the chaos of dismantling existing structures or to cleaning my brushes. I cannot have a new room without enduring the chaos and the cleaning. Our lives are the same way. I want my life and character to be transformed by God, becoming beautiful. But the project is one of demolition and yielding to a thorough cleaning for me to emerge as hoped. 

My life and yours too require copious amounts of free-flowing Water, running constantly, to cleanse the compacted strands of our life stories  — both the washing of the water of the Word and abiding in the Spirit immersed in the River of Life. A bucket of water captured in a quick morning devotion will just not suffice. The flow of His presence must be constant. The more Water, the better! 

And it takes a good piercing under that flow to expose what is hidden. Prayers to abort the process do not yield a life usable in the hands of the Master Painter. Instead, apply more Water and benefit fully from the raking, embracing God's divine purpose and provision. Visualize the brush with each squeeze of the bristles in your Master's hand! 

Drawing blood last night created in my mind’s eye what really has to happen. It is the piercing of Jesus Christ, His blood, His cleansing flow applied to my life that leaves me restored, supple for use. And the bathroom? It is still a work in progress, but it is coming along beautifully!

Last October I traveled to Nashville, Tennessee for a weekend of mentoring by Robby Dawkins. We (~ six of us) were the ministry team for a conference hosted by the Nashville Vineyard. The church is only a few blocks from the pro football stadium for the NFL Tennessee Titans. On the last day, Sunday, hosts told us there was a football game and parking (only available on the street!!!!) might be an issue. I was driving my rental car. (OF COURSE PARKING WILL BE AN ISSUE!!! DUH!!! )

Alarmed because I do not know my way around downtown Nashville and I had no idea where to park in a congested game-day traffic nightmare, I tried to press in asking Robby’s assistant, Alyssa, for more information— what to do? She looked at me puzzlingly... there was no problem yet. (I inferred, why would we be wasting emotional or intellectual energy problem-solving a problem that did not exist?)

I breathed deeply and off we went. Approaching the church, unknown to any of us, we saw the staff had blocked off parking spots for us using orange cones. I had to laugh. No problem.

There was no problem.

And I could have expended energy trying to plan ahead for one. Jesus was speaking to me. He is speaking to me now in the midst of sheltering at home, and has used the visual imagery of those cones ever since to whisper to me, “WAIT until you actually have a problem to solve it.”

Matthew 6:34 “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

So very true.

There is SO MUCH speculation, prediction, swirling to invade our peace in a time when DUH OF COURSE THERE WILL BE A PROBLEM (crashing real estate values, loss of retirement accounts, economy crashing, death among people we might even know...the list goes on ). And yet, Jesus smiles, knowing He is meeting us as each challenge actually materializes, and He might even be setting up cones in front of the House of God. We are that house, if we can only keep a firm grip on our bold confidence. (Hebrews 3:6 MSG)

Join me in prayer--

Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, I open my palms before You in surrender. I confess I do not know how things will turn out in the aftermath of this pandemic. There are clear indicators of trouble, a platform for Your intervention and provision. We declare You are faithful, my ever-present help in my time of need. I trust You, the God Who knows the end from the beginning, in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

​I remember the rush of bitterness washing over me in the bowling alley. I was less than ten years old, spending my Sunday afternoon along with my siblings being entertained by our father. It was our weekly visitation day, after the divorce, the day we got to represent our mother’s righteous demand for child support before a man who valued other things above his family.  As an adult I have far more grace for the brokenness behind failure. But when Holy Spirit returns such memories, there is a reason. 

The memory was triggered as I hiked a familiar trail alone in the isolation of the COVID-19 mandate to stay cloistered. Families are out in droves, staying in their cocooned clusters of “just us”. Stepping aside for a wife, toddler, and infant strapped to his daddy’s back, the memory flooded back to me in a flash. 

As a jaded child, I thought to myself looking around that bowling alley full of fathers and children, “If you had been there for your family when they needed you, you wouldn’t have to be here now in this meaningless ritual,” judging every sans-mother father there assigned a lane with his brood represented what our grouping did. Abandonment. Divorce. Feigned connection. 

My first response now is to invite Holy Spirit into this memory, into this pain that is still trigger-able for a reason. A wound unrecognized and therefore untended. 

What memories is this current crisis triggering for you in this time of unpredictability and even chaos? What are you feeling? 

The temptation is to quickly sweep the discomfort to the side, to walk past without addressing the underlying wound or even the fresh gouging of new assaults against your heart. But there is an invitation in the pain, a wooing into communion with the Great Physician, the Counselor, the One Who bears our grief. God brings beauty straight out of the charred remains of ashes. 

Come Holy Spirit. Lead us into all truth. We invite the healing Balm of Gilead into our most hidden places of wounding, in Jesus’ name.

​On occasion I like to camp alone, a time when I can pray and worship immersed in nature. Praise isn't something I'm supposed to do, rather, it's something I can't help myself from doing, like gasping at a glorious sunrise. The more I experience God in His goodness, sustaining me, even rescuing me, the more amazed I become by Him.

​Last night I worshipped under the stars nestled by a creek from my tiny Mtn Glo Tent, and pondered King Solomon. We all remember how God offered Solomon anything, and he chose wisdom, greatly pleasing God. What is easy to forget however, is that the entire exchange happened in a dream. And yet it was real. As I drifted to sleep, I asked Holy Spirit if He would speak to me that night in a dream as well, and if I too could choose wisely in a way that would honor Him.

The moment I emerged into the calm, my phone rang.

​I took a deep breath of relief with risk behind me, and answered.

On the line was one of the heavy hitters I took with me last month for Kingdom expansion pioneering work in North Borneo. She related that God spoke my name to her, and directed her to call me with an immediate message:

"I see you as the trophy. You are victorious. You are fully capable. You are well equipped. You are a leader. He is so pleased with you. Again, you are the trophy...you are His champion."

I was stunned. Timing is everything.

Then last night, as I'm sharing with my host my vision for founding a non-profit to bring autism intervention to developing nations, discussing setting up the board, the same feeling hit my stomach: rapids ahead, uncertainty, a mission seemingly without the skill set, but determination.

Immediately the affirming word returned, "His trophy, His champion, victorious, capable, equipped". His word had imprinted, and now is triggered with the internal feeling I get when approaching rapids in a kayak.

I thought of Gideon threshing his wheat while hiding from his enemies in a vat. God addressed him as "O valiant warrior!" And truly he was.

What rapids are you approaching that turn your stomach a bit, that threaten to tumble you upon the rocks?

​Listen intently for the affirmation God is poised to speak into your spirit at that very moment, to imprint upon you that indeed, you've got this. He is with you with every thrust of your oar.

Should we seek divine healing for our children with autism and other neurological differences? ​
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I serve a living God who heals not just emotional wounds, but who literally performs miracles in pursuit of the hearts of mankind. He reveals Himself this way sometimes.

When I was ministering in Myanmar exactly two years ago, I prayed for a Buddhist woman who was incapacitated by broken bones in her ankle. A Japanese pastor's wife and myself prayed for a miracle and God responded in under 3 minutes with an inexplicable miracle, the kind of life event that is so profound the woman immediately gave up her familial belief in Buddhism for our global God of creation, the God of the Bible. She joyfully surrendered her life to Him, to this miracle working God of love. ​

Our ferry from Negros Island to Bohol Island was delayed for several hours, and concern arose for our ability to fulfill our commitment to speak that evening. Any changes could also impact the next day's schedules.

The journey before us involved a rough sea crossing. ​The two Dramamine pills I took were making me terribly sleepy as we waited ad nauseum in the hot, cramped, pre-loading staging area at the docks.

​As we headed toward the rocking craft to board, my travel companions began throwing out ideas for rescuing the sabotaged conference speaking schedule. 

• “Melanie could take tonight’s session while we sleep!“ 
  Me: “Ok.” 
  
  
• “Melanie could give up her plenary tomorrow to make up for lost time!”
  Me: “That works.” 
  
  (Peals of laughter ensued.)
  
  
• ​“Doesn’t anything ruffle your feathers?” one friend playfully chided. 

​​Not much.

And believe me, not getting frustrated is not in my “natural” temperament.

The truth is, raising children with hidden disabilities, precious wonderful children that are incredibly trying and who cause us to die to ourselves every...single...day of our lives, produces lovely fruit of patience, tolerance and perseverance. 

All of the peace I cried out for in my prayers during the most trying seasons of child raising, I have now, not because my babies are near grown, but because peace can be internal independent of agitators or circumstances.

You are not just molding your children. Your children are molding you, and its a beautiful thing. ​

There are plenty of subjects regarding depression and anxiety that I think are underrepresented in discussions thereof, far too many to list or count. But one unacknowledged symptom in particular has been on my mind lately. It affects me, it affects my friends, and it even mildly affects those who aren’t sick at all. I’m talking about self focus. 

I wrote to my friend about it recently and she told me the word I’d used initially, “narcissism,” was too harsh. “Narcissism” evokes images of self aggrandizement, selfishness, and delusions of grandeur. But the image I want to convey is one I’m positive most people have experienced on one level or another. 

​Imagine you’re a researcher scheduled to speak at a panel, or a guest speaker at a church, or a high schooler giving a presentation. The anxiety therein is understandable. Everyone will be focused on you. You’re in center stage with the spotlight on you. Now think of the first day at a new school, the first time you tried to talk to someone you had a crush on, going to a fancy dress event you didn’t feel confident in attending. It feels similar, but why?

This is what I mean by “self focus.” Even in situations where the world isn’t actually watching us, it sometimes feels as though if we slip, everyone will see us fall. 

​The difference between the life experience for neurotypical people and neurodivergent people with anxiety is that for us, the anxious feeling is constant. Mental illness is a bubble engulfing you that’s so large you can’t even begin to see outside it, and all you have left to focus on is yourself.

​When I go out to meet with people, I spend hours ahead of time fretting over how I’ll mess it up. When I write for people to read, I’m terrified of the catastrophic effects it will have, that I’m doing it wrong and people will notice.

On especially bad days I’ve been known to forget how to walk properly and I have to manually move my feet, because what if I’m doing it wrong? Will people notice?  I am hyper aware of myself at all times and that means I assume others are as well. 

​One of the most comforting things I’ve ever experienced was going through a minor existential crisis. I know, that doesn’t make sense, but bear with me. The baseline of an existential crisis is “Nothing you do matters.” Roll that one over in your mind for a minute. No matter what I do, the world spins on. It doesn’t matter if I tripped and fell in public, it doesn’t matter I said something awkward, it doesn’t matter I couldn’t behave “normally” on one day or another. Strangers don’t care about me! My mild slip up will not affect their life and it shouldn’t affect mine either.  

The world spins on. It’s liberating to think about. But, I had to come to that revelation myself, after a long period of introspection.

​It’s not a subject that gets talked about, because it’s a hard topic to tackle from all sides and for all parties involved. I had to sort through my fears alone and even now it’s not easy to make the lesson stick in my mind, because fear is hard to conquer when it stems from messed up chemical reactions.

​The self focus is still there, and it makes me feel selfish and broken a lot of days.

​I wish I could give advice on how to counteract that voice. I wish I could tell you “do X, Y, and Z and it will shut off that voice forever.” But unfortunately it isn’t that easy.

All I can say is to please be understanding when we’re fearful.

• Remind us gently that we aren’t the center of the world.
  
• Be a safety net so we feel less fearful of walking that tightrope between chronic anxiety and the bravery and effort it takes to push through it.
  
• Remind us that we're likable, lovable, and remember that we aren’t bad for thinking mostly of our own perceptions.

​Because at the end of the day, we aren’t selfish or evil or even self centered. We’re just sick.