Tag: Doubt

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Life with the King Turns One!

Sharing words with the world has been one of the scariest and most rewarding decisions I’ve ever made. I’ve always loved writing, but only since last year did I get up the courage to share it for the world to read.

The idea to share a behind-the-scenes peek into Life with the King (LWTK) came from a question from one of YOU fantastic readers: Where did you start and how are you finding contentment and creativity in artistic style?

I always love hearing your ideas; thank you for reflecting with me on the first year of the Life with the King blog!

Why start writing in the first place?

Just like many of the stories I tell in this blog, it all started with an internal struggle. 

I have wanted to be a writer almost as long as I’ve been able to read. The problem was, I didn’t know what I would write about. The more I learned, the more I learned how much I didn’t know, and the more I doubted that what I had to say would be either new or helpful. 

I also knew that if my writing wasn’t vulnerable, it wouldn’t be great. And I wanted to write something great. I didn’t, however, want to be vulnerable. So, I put writing off. 

I journaled off and on; I wrote occasional poems and plays and essays. But I never called myself a writer.

I thought about starting a blog many times in my 20s. In 2012 I experimented with a travel blog and gleefully documented one of my trips nearly every day. But when it came to writing about life and meaning, the things that interested and fascinated me the most, the task seemed just beyond my reach. 

I can’t properly explain how, but I knew intuitively that I didn’t have the life experience yet to produce the depth of content that I wanted to be able to share. I was aware enough to know a well of wisdom about this topic existed, and also that I needed more years in flesh and blood reality to anchor whatever it is I’d write about in that wisdom. So I waited, telling myself I’d write something great someday, trying to make myself feel better about not really doing what I loved. I told myself for years that I just had to be patient. To trust that someday writing would find me again.

How did LWTK start? 

During my 20s, reality developed. I moved twice, had 3 jobs, 3 relationships, a family crisis or two, and a personal crisis of faith. Last year, I finally had a story that I was ready to tell. 

It was then that writing became something I could no longer not do. Speaking to the question of contentment, I was at a point where I just wasn’t content until I started taking steps toward sharing my story through writing. I took this as a clear signal that writing this story was at least part of what I was meant to do here on this earth. 

Yes, part of me felt it was a little self-indulgent to be writing about myself and my experience directly. But again the contentment wasn’t there until I sort of held my nose and did so. After all, writers must write what they know. Artists must express what they feel and observe. That’s the only way I know of to be honest, and honest writing is all I’d ever want to read. Or offer.  

Despite being completely terrified, I published my first blog post one year ago today. I told my friends, “If only one person is helped and doesn’t feel alone in their faith experience, it’ll all be worth it.”

Needless to say now, it’s been more than worth it. 

It’s been a life-giving creative outlet to write my story with the Lord, sharing what He has taught me in the process of rebuilding shattered faith. 

And there is so much more to share that goes beyond the scope of this blog. My hopes to write that book someday are now more alive than ever, all starting with saying “YES!” to obey that tug on my heart. 

Behind the Scenes 

To get a little more vulnerable still, the writing journey while mostly positive hasn’t been all rosey. There was so much passion and momentum when this began a year ago. Not only that, but I was also helped and inspired by my sister Abby, who had launched her own blog just a month before. In those first couple of weeks, we packed our laptops on our family beach trip to keep consistent with our blogging. Without an internet connection where we were staying, we simply got up early nearly every day and drove off to find air conditioned WiFi, leaving the family asleep to work on our writing together. The first few weeks were relatively easy because of the excitement around it and the forethought I had put into a handful of topics.

However writing on my own was harder. Topics eventually run out. Blogging took time, discipline, and energy that I had underestimated in the initial rush of novelty. I soon struggled to post blogs weekly, working a full time job as well as a part time job. Discouragement set in and I stopped posting for several weeks at a time, not because I wanted to stop, but because I had to. I couldn’t continue if I was associating the blog with a feeling I dreaded.  

Because I love this blog. It took a great deal of time, attention, and planning to get it up and running. I have pages and pages of notes just from working out what to call it. I talked to friends about their own blogs and what they learned along the way. The online hosting process alone took me weeks to set up. I set up a post structure to keep me focused before I ever started writing content. 

Just because it was tough and discouraging at times didn’t mean I was going to give up on the blog. 

And that’s exactly how God feels about us. 

God didn’t give up on me, even when I quit on Him. He will never give up on you either.

This time, I wasn’t going to let go of the opportunity I’d been given that easily; I had already done that whole letting-discouragement-stop-me thing in my 20s. Not anymore.

How do you feel about the blog now?

I remember telling my family this January, “I finally feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to do.” 

Writing is my act of obedience to God. There is meaning in the sharing of Life with the King, and that makes the pain I endured apart from Him have a purpose now. Writing is indeed my way of artistic expression. Bringing truth and light to the darkness is what God does. My aim for LWTK is to bring attention to what I see God doing. We all need a reminder to look for it, myself included.

Today, I can call myself a writer. Today, I can say that God is Good.

I hope Life with the King will continue to encourage you as it begins its second year; no matter how desperate or painful your faith journey might seem, God hasn’t and won’t ever give up on you. Even when you don’t see Him or experience His presence. Even when you don’t believe Him. There is still hope, and joy is still possible. 

Don’t give up. You are not alone, and there is grace even here. 

“I will exalt you, my God the King; I will praise your name for ever and ever. Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever” (Psalm 145:1-2).

Thank you for spending some of your time journeying with me. If you haven’t yet, please subscribe to the blog, it helps me continue writing about Life with the King. Grace and peace.  

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The Joy of Dance

I remember having to sit through my younger sister’s dance recital rehearsal while trying to do math problems. At age 11, anything girly made me roll my eyes. However, out of the 50 or 60 dances, one ballet dance in particular caught my attention even among the racy jazz numbers and the snappy tappers. I found myself being drawn in by the teen ballet set to Tchaikovky’s Waltz of the Flowers. 

It carried me off into another world where everything seemed better.

The dancers looked genuinely happy. The number was synchronized, artistic, and when I finally saw the dress rehearsal, the white costumes with pink sashes and pink flowers made it all just too beautiful to deny. If this was what dancing could look like, I finally understood why people wanted to do it. “If only I could do that,” I thought. Could I? I wrestled for a few weeks, and then decided. I almost surprised myself when I told my mom I wanted to begin ballet lessons.  

I held tight to the dream of being able to dance like the girls in Waltz of the Flowers, to move with grace. The first year or two of classes revealed my deep love of dance; I danced every chance I could. But when I started competing, I lost sight of why I loved dance in the first place. At competitions, dance was instead about external validation. The hope dance had given me for a better more beautiful world took a backseat until there wasn’t much joy in dance for me anymore; after three years I resigned from the dance team. I couldn’t quite bear to stop dancing altogether though.

Nine years after I quit competing, I did stop altogether. At 25, I simply couldn’t dance. Not because I physically couldn’t. Any doctor would have said I was physically capable. But spiritually, I had nothing left. Without being aware or intentional about my relationship with God, I hadn’t been following Him. I had been consistently careless with my heart and mind, and that summer it caught up with me like a ton of bricks. That’ll slow anyone down real quick.

I had lost all sight of the Lord.

It happened so gradually that it was hard to notice. By the time I did notice, I had stopped even trying to pray. I wasn’t following God’s commands, which provide joy. “The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart” (Psalm 19:8). My joy had run out, and I felt it. All of a sudden, everything about my life seemed wrong. I had a vague awareness that I had lost something like innocence but at the time I was blind to the Truth of God. I sought the world’s rational, scholarly answers for why this was happening to me. But nothing satisfied. The truth was, my heart hadn’t received true joy, the joy that comes only from God’s grace and love, for quite some time. What I didn’t know then is that joy is a gift I couldn’t work to give myself. 

Joy is a gift from God. 

It took years for me to make sense of it. All I knew at the time was that I had completely lost strength, mentally and spiritually. I didn’t think that had anything to do with God. Even the thought of attending a dance class right across the street, as I had been, was exhausting. I don’t even remember having hope to dance again. Scripture says, “...Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10). However, I was grieving and weak. I was in pain and didn’t know how to escape it. I didn’t know how to come back to God even if I wanted to (I didn’t, and I blamed Him for how I felt). “Joy is gone from our hearts; our dancing has turned to mourning” (Lamentations 5:15). My dancing had indeed turned to mourning; I was lucky just to get out of bed. Having joy was only a distant memory. 

I had no reason to dance anymore.

Thankfully, God is a merciful God. He never stops loving us and He is always waiting for us to repent. He welcomes us back to Him with open arms when we do. He delights in lavishing His gifts upon His children, and by His amazing grace, He restored my joy that was lost. It took years, but eventually I was ready to accept the Truth. In one of my darkest moments, I focused on Truth instead of my own pain, and let go of blaming God. I repented of my sin. Suddenly, I was filled with joy, and I praise God that joy has not left me since. 

About a year later, I slowly started dancing again, taking one class here and another there. I wanted to savor the process this time and to go at my own pace. I was not disappointed. I found that once again, as when I first began to dance, I could express freedom in the movement. I became sensitive again to the beauty and grace of dance that I had fallen in love with at age 11. Dance is an expression of the heart and a wonderful way to express joy. 

Two years ago, I took an opportunity to perform in a ballet. Though I doubt anyone knew it but God, I wanted to perform again as a testament to how far He’s taken me. From the depths of despair to the stage, He stayed with me through it all. 

To express the joy that He restored to me through dance was a gift.

Now I’m in a season of being stirred to dance the way David danced before the Lord, “Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might,” (2 Samuel 6:14). This year, I’ve had the opportunity to choreograph for a performance. By God’s grace I was inspired with joyful steps and free, expansive movement. I could not have set that kind of piece without the joy of the Lord. This was just a few weeks ago.

Joy is so powerful it often elicits a physical response. Other responses to joy found in the Bible include shouting (Leviticus 9:24), eating (1 Chronicles 29:22), and singing (Psalm 95:1). There are many outward expressions of joy to the Lord; my favorite, as you may have guessed by now, is dancing. 

If I ever doubt that God has restored me and delivered me from sin, I remember how, not so many years ago, I couldn’t even dance one step under the heaviness of darkness. There’s no denying its contrast with the joy that now flows from my spirit, particularly through dance. God worked the miracle of joy in my life. Dance symbolizes my journey of being brought from death to life. And so, I will dance on. 

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,” (Psalm 30:11).  

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What To Do When You Struggle with Faith

Here we are, the first blog post of Life with the King! I hope that here you will find something helpful for your own faith and truth-seeking journey, whether you’ve never thought much about faith before, had faith your whole life, or are somewhere in between. I’m excited to get started!

I don’t know about you, but my struggle with faith wasn’t pretty or quickly resolved with a conversation or two with a trusted friend.

While we all have doubts that come up from time to time, that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about a long, difficult, painful struggle with faith in God. A struggle that led to seeking out the answers to life’s big questions from cultures completely different from mine. A struggle that led to my identity as a believer being completely wiped out, and being faced with the choice to rebuild it on something else. A struggle that led to laying in bed as often as possible without getting questioned about it.

If that’s you, wow do I feel for you. I have been there, and it is not easy. When I was able to share with someone what I was going through, people told me not to worry about it and not to take it so seriously. That it was all going to be okay. These platitudes, while surely well intended, came across as unhelpful and dismissive. I want you to know that your pain is completely valid, I get it, and you are incredibly courageous for being willing to ask the big questions. To be willing to change to know the truth. That takes guts.

I wouldn’t wish the type of deep, prolonged pain I experienced from struggling with faith for anyone, but for some of us, it is a reality. I can say now that I’m thankful for it; as the wise saying goes, pain may in fact be our best teacher. Neither I nor anyone else can take the faith journey for you. Only you can press on in this. You can and you must; know that I believe you can do it! In my own journey so far (thankfully we never actually stop journey-ing!) I learned several things that were helpful to remember when the road got unbearably difficult. Without further ado:

1. You are not alone; avoid isolating.

Although it may feel incredibly lonely at times, you are not alone if you struggle with faith. Many people have gone through similar journeys and have come out on the other side. The people in your life that maybe don’t fully understand, they are still there for you and they care about you. Allow them to be around you, even if it’s hard. Don’t isolate yourself in all your pain. Let me repeat that, do not isolate yourself in your pain. Whether they understand us or not we all need other people around us, especially when we are down, to show us that life can still be lived and that joy can still be found. Let those who you trust and who love you in, as much as you possibly can.

2. No one has completely figured God out.

As much as knowing that God does or doesn’t exist would be helpful in moving on with your life, no one knows 100%. Neither science nor religion can prove either way. If your journey has led you onto this unending path, you can put down your binoculars now, there is no proof. That is the maddening yet beautiful mystery we are all faced with. That is where facts end and faith can begin.

3. Love is not a feeling, it’s a choice.

You’ve probably heard the phrases before: Love God Love Others, or, God is Love. When you’re in the depths of struggling with faith, you doubt God’s love. You doubt your ability to love and put walls around your heart to avoid feeling any additional pain. But one of the most liberating things I’ve learned is that it’s not about a feeling at all. Love is a choice you make. Love is a choice God makes. Each one of us has been gifted with the ability to choose. We can choose love, we can choose forgiveness, we can choose belief. And it doesn’t have to be based on a feeling. Feelings come and go, but the truth lasts. We can base our choices on the truth. And what we choose to believe drives our very lives.

4. Start from the Truth.

When you’re questioning everything, it can be very difficult to find solid truth to stand on. I think this is what made my journey so painful, that there was suddenly no rhyme or reason to my day-to-day decisions, other than I felt like making them. There was no solid reason I could point to anymore of why I should avoid being influenced by something, for an extreme example, Satanic music; my only reasoning was that it would or wouldn’t make me feel good. I could do anything I wanted, with no boundaries. Sure, I could start at the laws of morality, but let’s be real, there are some gray areas there. I no longer trusted the Bible because I had let other peoples’ opinions about it influence me (cue hearing a mockery of the story of Noah’s ark for about 10 solid minutes, and picking apart Adam and Eve, thus discounting the whole text as unreliable). I found a very important piece of truth after attending a philosophy roundtable discussion. I came away from our discussion that week on the philosophy of death feeling completely torn apart emotionally. Afterward, I kept playing one thing over and over in my head, something a woman shared with the group about telling her kids there was nothing beyond death,

“When they were old enough, I told them that we die, and when we do we become part of the earth.” This bothered me deeply for days.

Suddenly, and without warning me about it first, “There has to be more than this,” popped into my head. The best way I can describe it is that it bypassed my thought processes and was communicated straight into my heart. My nugget of truth. My spirit had been uncomfortable, unwilling, to accept the woman’s philosophy (which happened to be the group’s majority belief). No, there has to be some meaning to life and death. All this pain and all this joy and the billions of journeys that are happening in people’s hearts all over the globe, there is absolutely no way it’s all for nothing. I simply couldn’t accept otherwise. Perhaps this nugget helps you, perhaps you’ll discover your own. What is it that you just can’t get past? Start there.

5. Keep going.

Even though it’s hard, and it may be one of the hardest experiences you ever go through, always keep going. Keep learning about yourself, keep seeking out answers, and you will have a rich array of experience and wisdom to share with others. Avoid staying stuck in one spot, don’t give up on all the other areas of your life because of one thing you can’t get past. If you need to stop probing in one area of your life, start working in another until you’re ready to come back to it. Usually, they don’t all get resolved at once. This process takes time; stay patient with it and with yourself. Always keep growing, and treasure your gift to choose where you place your focus and attention. Never give your gift of choice up or let anyone make your decisions for you. You’ve got this.

I got to a point where my hope and my joy had died along with my faith and couldn’t be resurrected by my own effort. In my darkest moment, during what poets, religious scholars, and philosophers have called the “dark night of the soul,” I gave up the control that can so easily keep faith at bay and finally let go of the skepticism and the need to understand it all. Immediately, God’s love rushed into my soul, and I’ve never taken it for granted since. My faith was restored as a tiny mustard seed, but it was there. And it grew. My life changed. I changed. Having faith takes everything you have, what you once thought about yourself, the direction you had set and planned for your life, and the way you see the world. But it’s worth it. God is so worth it all.

Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”

Resources for further reading: The Reason for God by Timothy Keller; Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

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