deep work

what God's doing in the gap between perception & reality

It is June and I'm recovering again. Since February when I posted about how it's not sickness, it's immunity, I've been sick gaining immunity (ahem) three different ways, plus all five kids here went through the chicken pox.

And immunity is awesome but I wonder how much of it has been attack, too. Also, I'd like to know which crunchy habits I've incorporated into my life are not doing any good so I can just drop that nonsense and eat more potato chips.

We haven't arrived yet but we've been on this health and wellness journey for years...decades...and we've come a long way since that one time, in that one pregnancy, when I failed the diabetic glucose test because the night before, I binged on homemade rice crispy treats.

We've learned so much since then. For example, we've replaced fake sugars with molasses, honey, and maple syrup...and also, I stopped taking glucose tests.

(Side note: If you have a medical professional who doesn't respect your right to refuse tests, find a new one.)

As far as this latest illness goes, I know some of the culprits. Insomnia has been trying to rear its head again. Stress is revving its engine in the driveway. And we've had birthdays and celebrations and sugary treats, and I have, alas, partaken.

So there are reasons. But also we fight a real enemy, and that enemy is not my own flesh and blood which was made to enjoy things in a reasonable way.

Something I've been enjoying a lot of lately are books by Wodehouse. I've raved about them to you before and it was strategically therapeutic this time around because I've known since high school that laughter is good medicine. I had to give a speech during my senior year and chose that as my topic, reasoning that if I was going to do something as miserable as public speaking, it would at least be hilarious. And this also turned out to be strategic because in college the following year, I had to give another speech – might as well confess this now – and it was still funny. File that under "work smarter, not harder"...and oh, the irony, because now, thirty years later, I write almost 100,000 words a year. Joke's on me.

Anyway, during the worst of this last illness I tried to boost my immune system by laughing my way through two books by P.G. Wodehouse, and that was made more comical (for those around me, at least) because my voice was gone, so my laugh sounded like something between the bark of a stellar sea lion and a dog's squeaky toy that had been left out overnight in the rain.

Then at 1am one night, I read the part when three people collide on the darkened castle staircase and inadvertently almost kill each other ("a pleasant time was being had by all"), and discovered the upper range of my voice had not entirely disappeared because my muffled giggles rapidly turned into donkey-like guffaws which then turned into uncontrollable howling shrieks as I gasped for breath and wiped tears from my eyes.

Younger kid upstairs, waking in the middle of the night: What are they doing down there?

Older kid: Nothing, Mom's just reading those books again. Go back to sleep.

But in spite of the funny books, the rest, and drinking 38 gallons of wellness tea whose boxes make tabloid-level promises about healing various ailments at a mere 50 cents per tea bag (THEY LIE), I was still up at all hours, coughing up putrid stuff.

It was disheartening because we know how this is supposed to work: You do the right things, the sickness runs its course, you get better. That's the deal, right?

But no, sometimes in actuality it works more like prayer does: We do the right things, and yet sometimes, so often, more often than we'd like, it looks like (operative words) we, or someone else, or the world itself, is still sick. We wonder if our efforts have changed anything, or if we need to just quit this nonsense.

We have to remember at this point that what it looks like isn't the full story.

So there's this dissonance between our physical senses and the full reality of what's happening. We see in part, we know in part. And the gap is best filled with surrender and trust.

The work taking place in that gap is usually something we're not even aware that needs to happen.

In this space, if we cooperate with surrender and trust (some might summarize this as just "faith" but I like to specify), the Lord does a deep work in our heart issues and situations so we emerge from them able to go wide in a healthy, whole manner.

None of that shallow, rootless, flaky belief that leaves hearts spinning and doubting God's hold on the axis of what we live on. No, we need real healing that penetrates and leaves us stronger, wiser, steadier, wilder, bolder.

That healing happens when we rest (surrender) from the need to figure it all out and have all the answers. So for some of us (*raises hand*) that means laying down the extra work and the need to do, do, do, because the productivity is sometimes just a mask for striving, for needing to have all the answers, for needing to be the one who provides for the needs, for needing to check everything off the list.

Sigh. This is why the Lord sends us (I mean, me) to our (I mean, my) room sometimes.

If left to our own devices, we would never think to ask for this deep work.

Fortunately the Lord does not leave us to our own devices. He knows what we can handle, and He knows what we think we can handle (but clearly can't), and He knows what will drive us to surrender so we finally let Him do the handling.

Three times last month when I was sick, Vin left me at home while he took the kids to church. I reassured him that I was fine and could take care of myself. And one night I felt pretty good about making my own dinner until I realized I used two forks, one spoon, and two separate butter knives to make one small bowl of pasta for myself. It was like a four-year-old had been let loose in the kitchen.

And then when it came time to strain the pasta, I almost – barely caught myself – forgot to move the colander over the sink before dumping the contents of the pot into it.

So there's that gap again – this time, between what we think we can and ought to do, versus what we actually should (or should not) be doing. Our perception and reality are not always the same things.

What's funny is that we don't usually struggle with the gap between them; we deal with it by pretending (or believing) it doesn't exist.

But God knows we have no clue what we're doing half the time. The problem is that we tend to cover the gap and fake it. We have answers, we have reasons, we can explain this.

"No no, it's okay, I can totally do this, just watch..." *kaboom*

This is where we see the difference between...

1. foolish stubborness, which is striving: "I can do this, I don't need help"

...and...

2. surrendered boldness, which is humble obedience: "You're going to have to do this through me."

We (I mean, I) think there are so many things that we (I mean, I) need to do: get this project done, have this conversation, meet with that person, finish this newsletter on time.

But then something happens to gum up the works so nothing moves as fast as I (and also, maybe you) want it to, because God is working at His own speed which is so much fuller and broader and more complex than our one-dimensional agenda.

He forces us at times to align and cooperate so He can do the thorough work we need rather than the cosmetic surface fixes that we think we want.

He has been telling me, "Shannon, Shannon, you are worried and distracted by many things..." and reminding me that Mary sat at His feet and waited, listened, and learned, because she knew she needed Him.

Or as Barbara O'Neill says, "A cold is a house clean." And sometimes we need cleaning.

No, sickness is not the Lord's will, but He has designed us with systems to heal, purify, and respond to attack – and when we let those systems work, we're left stronger than before. When we don't let those systems work, we allow...complications.

So we have this tension between what God allows and what we allow, but the difference is that He never allows something out of laziness, ignorance, exhaustion, ineptitude, or sin.

Often, somewhere in the middle of that is this concept that we call attack – where the enemy comes in to steal, kill, and destroy. This is where we find illness, or wounding, or betrayal, or abuse, or anything else we need to recover from. Something happened that was not the Lord's perfect, original design, and He is doing a Romans 8:28 work in the midst of it.

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

– Romans 8:28

Here is something that has revolutionized the way I look at attack: The enemy often tries to discourage, accuse, delay us in the area he knows we have a great calling in. It's the same area he's terrified of us growing in. He wants us to think our future strengths are weak spots, so we never develop them.

So, what accusations and lies have you been fighting in your thoughts? The reverse of those is probably pointing at your destiny, gifting, and calling.

Also, just thinking out loud here: What is the difference (or, is there a difference) between attack and a wilderness season? Because here again we're talking about hard seasons or situations that the Lord allows. And something I've really struggled with in the wilderness phase is the uncertainty of what is attack and delay from the enemy, and what is the Lord holding back or preventing because He knows better than we do?

We don't want to fight against the Lord. And we don't want to be passive to the enemy. So when we feel stuck and wandering in the wilderness, how do we know whether to rebuke and fight, or whether to surrender and sit it out?

What I'm finally understanding is that it's not all one or the other. Jesus was in the wilderness and He worked through the process while also confronting the enemy. So it's not this or that, but both/and: Yes, we fight, and yes, we surrender. We just make sure we aim both efforts in the right direction.

Another thing – I know, there are so many things and I'm getting a little rambly, but the tissues are still everywhere here and I'm fighting Bingley for desk space, so bear with me – about a month ago our friend preached on the wilderness, and I've been thinking on it ever since.

Mindblowing notes from yesterday's sermon:

A wilderness season is preparation to launch. It's not punishment.

So if that struggle is part of the plan to prepare us, we can rest in knowing the season isn't forever 🙌🏻 and it's not about our mistakes or lack of perfection. 🙌🏻

We can cooperate with process of maturity, humility, surrender, and growth, knowing that the end result will be the ministry we were made for.

And meanwhile we wait, alert and patient, reveling in His goodness.

I have so often felt like I was being punished when I was actually being prepared.

I have accepted condemnation from the enemy when the Lord was actually commending me.

I have felt like a failure when, in reality, the enemy barely hanging on and totally bluffing.

What about you?

Here again is the gap between what we perceive and what is really happening. So this is personal because God cares about how our heart is really postured toward Him, and where it's only pretending to face Him.

He is rearranging our furniture, teaching us to lock windows and close the gaps that let the enemy in, and showing us how to clean the traces of mold and debris left in his slimy wake.