On giving thanks and surrender
“To live according to the Spirit is not measured by good feelings but by an ever-deepening posture of surrender to Jesus.” — Rich Villodas
Many of you subscribed to this newsletter back in late 2020, when I had just arrived in Ohio and began settling into my new home here. I had lots of good intentions to carve out time and space for maintaining a consistent practice of writing. But as I turned the calendar page over to 2021, I sensed the Lord calling me into a season of quiet — a time to slow down emotionally and spiritually, to quiet my rhythms and establish new ones that would honor the internal changes I was experiencing.
In counseling, I often talk to people about quieting their emotions. Not silencing them, but quieting them, taking notice and moving slowly through them. It’s not intended as a way to validate or investigate each one to its fullest, but to help us remember that God deals kindly with us as a whole person. When we don’t engage with our emotions, we miss out on discovering the ways they draw us nearer to Jesus. This is the work I sensed God calling me to personally over the past several months. It meant stopping when I noticed tension in my body, or a drawn out sigh, and asking myself what that might be about. It also meant increasing my tolerance for talking with myself about what I was feeling rather than rushing to distract myself away from it. It looks a lot like what we see the psalmist practicing.
Some of the feelings I found to be most present were related to fear. Fear of growing old completely alone. Fear of never “succeeding” — whatever that means. Fear of success, in that I fear what it brings with it. Fear of always having to endure how uncomfortable I am in my body. Fear of connecting in a church community again, and fear of not connecting. Fear of writing. Fear of not writing.
As I studied these themes, I realized how much we do to avoid our fears. We revert to childlike ways, we negotiate, we soothe with goods and substances, we reassure ourselves by posturing strategically in conversations. We avoid risk by staying in spaces where we remain only halfheartedly committed.
Early in the year, I took part in a six-week writer’s cohort, hoping to discern with greater clarity my voice and place. Non-fiction writers write what they know, oftentimes drawing from personal experiences. Much of my writing overlaps with my counseling, covering topics related to the Church, trauma, and the aching soul. To share that kind of writing brings more fear. Fear of what it costs to be vulnerable, fear of criticism (inevitable), and fear of causing further harm to those already confused and hurting. It feels weighty because it is.
In all of these things, I sensed God drawing me back to simple truths. I’ve meditated on Jesus a lot. His goodness. His mercy. One of the prayers we recite each week at the church I’ve been attending is The Sursum Corda. It is typically prayed just before we partake in The Lord’s Supper together.
The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Lift up your hearts.
We lift them up to the Lord.
Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
It is right to give him thanks and praise.
I typically have an aversion to doing anything simply because someone told me to do it, especially when it comes to spiritual matters. I sense a strange pull of always wanting to follow the rules, but never wanting to do so out of compulsion. The first few times I encountered this prayer, that last line made me uncomfortable.
I hesitated at the idea that I should do something merely because it’s “right.” But, as I’ve grown more familiar with the prayer and continue reciting it each Sunday, my heart has softened and now it’s one of my favorite parts in the worship service. This type of gratitude is not based on specific events or provisions. No, this is thanksgiving as an act of surrender. We are acknowledging that it is right to give God thanks and praise because we have access to him in and through Jesus Christ. Jesus made it possible for us to lift up our hearts to him, and so we give thanks.
Growing in surrender to Jesus frees me to step into my writing with faith, even in the midst of doubts and fears. Friends, I’ll never say everything you would like to hear. I am certain I will disappoint you by highlighting too much of one thing and not enough of another. But even in this, I hope to surrender and give thanks.
As I walk this path, I’ve summarized a couple of requests for you to join me in thanksgiving and prayer below. I’m grateful for the kind ways many of you minister to me through prayer and sending words of encouragement from time to time.
I pray you are kept, both body and spirit, in the freeing love of Christ.
Melissa
For thanksgiving and prayer
I recently finished another cohort of ReStoried (a support group for those who have experienced abuse and trauma). Over the past four years, more than sixty women have taken part in a ReStoried group. Praise the Lord! It’s an honor to bear witness and to walk alongside them as they process their stories in the presence of each other. We will be launching a new in person ReStoried group next month! I’m excited to co-facilitate the group this time with one of my colleagues and dear friends, Karen Corcoran. We would be grateful for your prayers, and would love for you to refer anyone in the Cleveland area you think may be helped by this group. I will also be adding another remote ReStoried option later in the summer, hopefully to better accommodate requests from those on the West Coast.
Throughout my recent quiet season, I’ve been doing a lot of writing and reflection. I have a couple of significant projects that I’m excited about, but still grappling with the details of how to best share them. I’m sure some of the material will be published on my website, but a large chunk might fit in a couple of different spaces. I’m not keeping that vague as a way of being mysterious, but I’m still holding those things close until I have greater clarity on the when, where and who pieces. Would you join me in praying that I would have wisdom and clear direction?
“We ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves… I don’t want anyone to give me credit beyond what they can see in my life or hear in my message… God’s power works best in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 4:7; 12:6 & 9