"Truth is found in silence" Patricia Fargnoli
Job 34:29 "If God is silent, what is that to you? If he turns his face away, what can you do about it? But whether silent or hidden he's there ruling." (MSG)
God seems to speak to me both from his words and the simple line from Winter's Grace, about silence; his silence. His truth is often revealed by his silence, in silence. It is only when I quiet my surroundings and my mind that God can reveal his truths to me, even the truth about his silence. Undistracted by the noise in my head or the clamor of the world, it is easier to hear him; hence actually listen to him. I am aware that for most of us, myself included, this is no simple act. Let's face it silence is uncomfortable and we want to fill the void with empty words. So, in prayer I often drone on like some caffeinated valley girl, or with sophisticated words like thee, and thou. Sometimes in my prayerful monologue I do hear God raise his voice to me. "Will you just shut up and listen or sit in my silence?" And when I go silent I can catch a glimpse of truth rising out of the ashes of my life.
What about God's silence? What truth does it reveal about him? The tougher question is what truth does it reveal about me? I am not sure that God is ever truly silent. He may be appear to be silent when a specific prayer goes unanswered for season after season. It is in those seasons that I wonder where is God, and why has he apparently gone mute; refusing to answer me? So, as I contemplate this silence, I am aware that it does reveal the truth of my faith. Can I trust him in the silence of unanswered prayer for healing, for recovery?
When I am silent I am able to take a step deeper into my being and survey all the seasons of my life. In doing this I realize that He is never silent or idle. I see his fingerprints on my life as clearly as the ones constantly wipe off my IPhone, but His I never want to erase. I see his finger prints even in the painful moments of my life, the times when his silence seemed more like abandonment, or neglect. I now recognize that these prints were left by his hands holding me up through the suffering and I did not perish in his silence.
So, I invite you to sit in your silence, and see what truths God will reveal about himself, and yourself. He may remain silent, or possibly not saying what you want to hear in this season of your life, but what you need to hear. In this silence, I continue to come to him and seek him. Maybe this is what he really wants is just to spend time with me. He uses this time to love on me, comfort me, and he uses this silence like a bit in a horses mouth to steer me back onto his path. He is in the saddle and he holds the reins. He resores my faith by simply showing up in The word, a hug from a friend, a smile from a stranger, or the phone call that brings me back to life.
I rise in the morning feeling alone and weighed down by the burden of my recovery from the eating disorder and the unpredictable searing unseen pain of the neuralgia. "Where are you God?" I find myself asking. "I am all around you!" I hear him say. I feel called to the frosty windows and I see him in the sun rising over the hill glistening off the icy water, and the hard packed snow covering the ground. It is a spectacular, almost blinding sight. The birds are singing despite the cold crisp air, foretelling of the blooms of spring. The ground will soon be exposed with the crocus pushing their way through the sun softened snow. So it is in this cold winter season of my life that I look and listen for the subtle signs of his presence. I listen for singing of the birds, the thawing of the ice that will remind me that seasons change; this is just a season of my life. Like the snow covered ground, I will not remain frozen and hidden, but push through and bloom.
I am reminded that even in his silence he is always present as I ask for the strength and grace to survive each day. It isn't always easy as I surrender and take it all to the cross of my seemingly silent God. Yet he is still faithful as he supplies the strength and grace I need minute by minute, day my day, and he is okay that I don't always do it gracefully.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
What if.....
Ephesians 2:10 "for we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago"
I stand naked before the mirror trying to decide if I like the way I look today, or not. How am I measuring up to the unrealistic standards I have set for my 50 year old body. I begin my usual ritualistic slow turn and wonder how much longer am I going to put myself though this daily torture? Why have I held on so tightly to these standards? I stare at the naked body reflecting off the bathroom mirror shrouded in the soft light of the rising sun filtering through half opened shades. My mind drifts back to the early days of my eating disorder as a teen. I was a sad lonely adolescent that felt as big and the void as the shadow of my body that walked silently before me each day to school. The angle of the sun creating a distorted image of the mass and and size of my body. "Even my shadow is big, dark, and without a face." I felt like a person who's face was always lost in the crowd. I had no sparkle in my eye and seldom and genuine smile on my face.
With the past week being Eating Disorders Awareness Week, there has been much discussion about the medias contribution to the development of eating disorders due to the ultra thin models celebrities, etc. As I stand naked scanning my body I am keenly aware of how very different the onset of my illness was as a teen versus the middle aged woman staring back at me. My struggle with anorexia as a teen began when I thought "If I could just look like those skinny models on the glossy covers of Teen, Seventeen, and Glamour, then I could be as happy as their sparkling eyes and smiles suggested they were? I had no idea that a simple diet to lose a few pounds would take me down a road I had never intended nor desired to travel. My abusive, emotionally neglectful, home, genetics, and biology set me up for this mental illness that would bloom out of control. So, did the media cause it? Probably not, but it did plant the seed and water it allowing it flourish. At the age of 47, my relapse had nothing to do with the media, delaying my natural aging process. or looking like Barbie. It did, however have everything to do with the resurgence of the same abusive emotional upheaval of my youth. My parents stopped listening to me. Once again, I lost my voice and used my body to say what they wouldn't or couldn't hear. So, with my beloved father now dead, and my mother being cared for in a nursing facility, why do I still hold tightly to the body image issues? I can't say it is to speak to my parents anymore, but there is still some safety in the frailty of this body. Like so many of us with eating disorders, we can allow ourselves to become our illness. If we believe we are our illness, than who are we without it?
I re-read the scripture above and wonder, what if I saw myself as God's masterpiece, anew in Jesus Christ full of unleashed potential? What if my identity reflected Jesus instead of flesh and bones? What if I recognized the masterpiece he created as....me? What if I discovered I may actually like myself, if I weren't afraid to like myself?
I close my eyes drawing in a deep cleansing breath, wrapping a towel tightly around my waist and tuck in the edge, holding it secure, and slip on a sweatshirt hanging on the doorknob as my body slips to the floor and rest along the wall. With my eyes still close I exhale releasing my spirit, allowing it to rise up to meet with God. I see him, not on some big fancy throne gilded in gold, but a simple bench made of wood much like that of the manger Mary laid him in as a baby. He gently beckons me to come to him like the loving father that he is. I am timid at first as this feels like I am entering into foreign territory. I am not sure how to receive this loving gesture. I point to my self saying "me?" "Yes, you my precious child,"He replies with a sparkle in his voice as if he is excited to see me. "Have a seat," he says as a gently pats the spot to the right of him. "Please just sit here with me, I want you to see something, or rather someone amazing. I created her to love and be loved by me!" "Why is she so amazing?" I ask "Because I created her, I loved her so much I sent my son to die for her." Just sit here and watch her. I know you will like her she loves me with all her heart, and being that she is you, I want you to love her with all your heart. She is my masterpiece, and you know masterpieces don't happen overnight? They are somehow always a work in progress, but a masterpiece none the less. You are my masterpiece
So it is in being mindful of how God sees me, I go about surveying, or observing my self. I approach this as I did observing my body a few weeks back. There are no negatives allowed; no "yes buts" Wow, this is difficult for me! I believe it is hard for most women today to like themselves, or at least admit they like themselves. We fear our confidence comes across as arrogance, so we often hesitate to acknowledge and take ownership of our gifts and talents. I know this to be so true for me. Could it be that in doing this we not only deprive ourselves from reaping the benefits of our strengths, but all of humanity as well? I never thought I would quote Hilary Clinton, but here goes...it really does "take a village" We are all unique and have something unique to offer up to the universe, to God, but we can't give away what we don't own, so if we don't own our strengths, then they aren't ours to share. 1 Corinthians 12:7 "A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other" (NLT)
I stand naked before the mirror trying to decide if I like the way I look today, or not. How am I measuring up to the unrealistic standards I have set for my 50 year old body. I begin my usual ritualistic slow turn and wonder how much longer am I going to put myself though this daily torture? Why have I held on so tightly to these standards? I stare at the naked body reflecting off the bathroom mirror shrouded in the soft light of the rising sun filtering through half opened shades. My mind drifts back to the early days of my eating disorder as a teen. I was a sad lonely adolescent that felt as big and the void as the shadow of my body that walked silently before me each day to school. The angle of the sun creating a distorted image of the mass and and size of my body. "Even my shadow is big, dark, and without a face." I felt like a person who's face was always lost in the crowd. I had no sparkle in my eye and seldom and genuine smile on my face.
With the past week being Eating Disorders Awareness Week, there has been much discussion about the medias contribution to the development of eating disorders due to the ultra thin models celebrities, etc. As I stand naked scanning my body I am keenly aware of how very different the onset of my illness was as a teen versus the middle aged woman staring back at me. My struggle with anorexia as a teen began when I thought "If I could just look like those skinny models on the glossy covers of Teen, Seventeen, and Glamour, then I could be as happy as their sparkling eyes and smiles suggested they were? I had no idea that a simple diet to lose a few pounds would take me down a road I had never intended nor desired to travel. My abusive, emotionally neglectful, home, genetics, and biology set me up for this mental illness that would bloom out of control. So, did the media cause it? Probably not, but it did plant the seed and water it allowing it flourish. At the age of 47, my relapse had nothing to do with the media, delaying my natural aging process. or looking like Barbie. It did, however have everything to do with the resurgence of the same abusive emotional upheaval of my youth. My parents stopped listening to me. Once again, I lost my voice and used my body to say what they wouldn't or couldn't hear. So, with my beloved father now dead, and my mother being cared for in a nursing facility, why do I still hold tightly to the body image issues? I can't say it is to speak to my parents anymore, but there is still some safety in the frailty of this body. Like so many of us with eating disorders, we can allow ourselves to become our illness. If we believe we are our illness, than who are we without it?
I re-read the scripture above and wonder, what if I saw myself as God's masterpiece, anew in Jesus Christ full of unleashed potential? What if my identity reflected Jesus instead of flesh and bones? What if I recognized the masterpiece he created as....me? What if I discovered I may actually like myself, if I weren't afraid to like myself?
I close my eyes drawing in a deep cleansing breath, wrapping a towel tightly around my waist and tuck in the edge, holding it secure, and slip on a sweatshirt hanging on the doorknob as my body slips to the floor and rest along the wall. With my eyes still close I exhale releasing my spirit, allowing it to rise up to meet with God. I see him, not on some big fancy throne gilded in gold, but a simple bench made of wood much like that of the manger Mary laid him in as a baby. He gently beckons me to come to him like the loving father that he is. I am timid at first as this feels like I am entering into foreign territory. I am not sure how to receive this loving gesture. I point to my self saying "me?" "Yes, you my precious child,"He replies with a sparkle in his voice as if he is excited to see me. "Have a seat," he says as a gently pats the spot to the right of him. "Please just sit here with me, I want you to see something, or rather someone amazing. I created her to love and be loved by me!" "Why is she so amazing?" I ask "Because I created her, I loved her so much I sent my son to die for her." Just sit here and watch her. I know you will like her she loves me with all her heart, and being that she is you, I want you to love her with all your heart. She is my masterpiece, and you know masterpieces don't happen overnight? They are somehow always a work in progress, but a masterpiece none the less. You are my masterpiece
So it is in being mindful of how God sees me, I go about surveying, or observing my self. I approach this as I did observing my body a few weeks back. There are no negatives allowed; no "yes buts" Wow, this is difficult for me! I believe it is hard for most women today to like themselves, or at least admit they like themselves. We fear our confidence comes across as arrogance, so we often hesitate to acknowledge and take ownership of our gifts and talents. I know this to be so true for me. Could it be that in doing this we not only deprive ourselves from reaping the benefits of our strengths, but all of humanity as well? I never thought I would quote Hilary Clinton, but here goes...it really does "take a village" We are all unique and have something unique to offer up to the universe, to God, but we can't give away what we don't own, so if we don't own our strengths, then they aren't ours to share. 1 Corinthians 12:7 "A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other" (NLT)
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