Why I'm Taking a Vacation From Exercising

I had been on my nutrition/lifestyle plan for all of five hours and I was already the expert.

I gave my husband a "chill out" look, and he shot me back an "are you serious", and it became clear that after we had dealt with the children before us, we would need a game plan on how to handle our new lifestyle changes.

Let me back up. I have rheumatoid arthritis. You may know this already. Shortly after it presented 9 1/2 years ago I realized that I was in good company. Or at least plenty of company.

I can tell you of a host of treatments that worked temporarily, but the list is long and that is not the point. Somewhere along the line I realized I was tired. Tired of pills. Tired of health companies. Tired of pain. And I'm not knocking the good people out there who manufacture and distribute things to make people feel well, but I think what I was tired of most of all was the feeling that I was owned. If my life wasn't totally dictated by the pain, then I was owned by those things that take the pain away.

So through a series of "random" events beginning with our sweet church in River Falls calling my husband (again) to be their pastor, I came across a man who pointed me to a woman who could help. Himself a medical professional, he gave me the tools to visit a woman who has treated thousands of clients with RA and seen amazing results. Her tools- foods. That. is. it. I already eat food. This could be a game changer.

Two weeks ago, I watched Karen Hurd's DVD, learned back almost everything I forgot in high school chemistry, biology, and physics, while being quite entertained by her theatrical examples of blood pressure, adrenaline spikes, and the like. You'd understand if you watched it. My husband and I watched bit by bit (it is a lot of information for our after-bedtime minds to absorb, and while watching it with fully functioning minds would be ideal, we have four kids who injure each other at the slightest hint of boredom). I asked him his thoughts. "She's kooky, but what she says makes sense".

Before it was half through I was internally apologizing to my adrenal glands. I'm sorry little adrenal glands. I won't beat you into labor anymore. I will stop jolting you with sugar and caffeine. C'mon adrenies, we'll do it together. You can trust me. We'll be friends. I told you I was tired.

The next day I decided to sneak peek the end while Heidy took a nap. So I folded my laundry and multitasked as usual. That's when she hit me with a curveball out of nowhere.

Her 18-24 month program to heal RA was not entirely food related.

Get this, she wanted me to rest.

Not take a nap every once in a while. We're talking minimize stress, and no formal exercise. None.
So, naturally, I cried.

To understand my tears I should tell you that where we live there are hundreds of non-profits, hippie grocery stores, holistic practitioners, gyms, coffee shops, music, theater, and art scenes, trails and state parks. On top of that, I have become so immersed in the desire to reach out into the community and join along other brothers and sisters, I have been on philanthropic sensory overload. And that's not even counting what is available to my kids. "I'm ready for something different, Lord. I'm ready for the next big adventure. Just point me in the right direction. What do you want me to do?"

His answer? Rest. She confirmed that answer when I met with her last week.

I haven't rested much. I am not allowed. You are allowed. I will give anyone else permission to rest, but me? Well, take a snooze when you get the laundry done. Rest when your flare-up doesn't give you the ability to be productive anyway. I alone put the pressure on.

And God says, that's enough.

In light of this first week I've noticed some things. 1. I really need to be patient and turn the "knowing" looks toward my husband off. Nobody likes a know-it-all. 2. I let too many things bug me. 3. Making a big influence with Jesus is nice, but it will not be accomplished by finding my own lane in the rat race. Things here have been functioning without me for some time and they will continue to do so. I need to pace myself. 4. We do too much. Then we feel like crap, take a pill or a drink, and keep going at the pace that is hurting us in the first place.

Then there is this: I have a lot to learn and a more than capable Teacher, if I will sit still long enough to listen and heal. 

Forget working out. We are working in.

We run such a tight ship in our lives, communities, churches, that we do not leave any room to sit and be still and know that He is God. For ten minutes in the morning? Fifteen, tops? For how long on Sunday? I pray we are beyond watching the clock. Are we taking, making, the time to recognize His presence every day?

So this gift of rest, I really don't think it is just for me. I think it is for you too. You can certainly tell people, "I'd love to, but no thank you. I need some time to heal." They'll give you funny looks, but who is going to say, "Heal? You don't need to heal!" (If they do say that, I recommend walking away and not punching them in the face.) Sabbath it up! Or if you are filled to the brim with life and need a tiny Sabbath, you can just come here, because my lack of running and exercise should give me some serious time to observe and report. I'll try to make it somewhat entertaining as well.

Or, if you are one of those folks who gets this whole Sabbath deal and takes the time and has some words of wisdom for me, share. Please. Share. I'll take all the wisdom I can get. And now apparently I will be able to sit and listen to it. Whatcha think?

When Friction Starts a Fire {This Day Thursday:Renewal}

We tend to think of our values as neat nouns that fit in specific lists. The “values” list. And the “not values” list. At least that is how I tend to see them and explain them when called upon to do so. We don’t speak or act in certain ways because they just aren’t in line with our values. Some values are at the top and are indispensible. Some nearer the bottom and open to debate.

And then it happens, one value bumps into another. It budges in line. I value life more than money. Time more than money. But when money is required to enrich our lives or schedule, I’m forced to examine which I value more at this point.

It sounds technical, but it’s really not. Choices is all we call it. Maybe you sit and ask yourself, “Which do I value more?” Or maybe you just ask, “Can I afford to do this?” But what you are doing is weighing your values in the balances and seeing which holds more weight.

Where am I going with this? It has come into the forefront of my mind a lot in the last months as I’ve embarked on a brand new thought process with food. And no, this isn’t one of those “Watch out, she is on her diet again” moments. And yes, even if you have the healthiest body image in the world, you can still benefit from this line of thought.

Painful emotional times are often the result of friction between values in real life. For example, my RA is greatly influenced by the foods I put in my mouth. That caused some friction based on what I should eat and what I wanted to eat. I valued the health of my joints and the subsequent happiness of my home more than I valued bread (regular bread that is). So I eliminated gluten.

Cutting out gluten offered some relief, but not enough. So I took another step- no grains. Again, I valued health and happiness over overnight oatmeal (really, really yummy overnight oatmeal), so the sacrifice was made.

All the way until I found myself completing my first Whole30 and pursuing a paleo lifestyle minus the evolutionary theory.

It’s been a while since I researched anything so thoroughly, but in the process I came to a greater understanding of how awesome our bodies are and how God made us with such care.

But God also showed me more and more about the value of His law in my life, His Gospel in my renewal, His Word in my diet, and His wisdom in my decisions.

I will take four posts (at least that is the plan) to reflect on these things, because they matter to me and I believe they matter to you. But in case you are skeptical, take a moment to answer these questions:

* Am I sin-sick?

* Am I making choices that are inconsistent with my values, or harmful to those I value?

* Am I wearied by the junk I see happening around me?

* Am I struggling to see God's love in the events in my life?

* Am I enslaved to the bad choices I make?

* Am I in need of encouragment to keep making the good choices I am making?

Really you could have just answered the first question, but if you answered "yes" to any of these please stick with me in the coming weeks. God might not be calling you to a pantry overhaul, but He is calling you to a fulfilling, satisfying life with Him starting now- and I would love to walk with you. 

There is More {to the Story than a Good Samaritan} {GratiTuesday}

A Jew and a Samaritan walk into an inn. Ok, well the Samaritan walks. The Jew is carried. And the familiar parable in Luke 10 tells the rest. So often I relate to the Good Samaritan. And honestly, that seemed to be the main point of Jesus’ parable. At the conclusion of the tale, He asks the question, “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” (verse 36) And we all receive a very poignant message about the lifestyle of generosity.

Then there are those days when I may look like the Samaritan, but I feel like the victim. In fact, one of the most common struggles a chronically ill person encounters is that they don’t look sick. I can tell you that from experience, as well as from countless conversations with chronically ill buddies of mine.

And sometimes you even fool yourself into thinking maybe the outer appearance is telling the truth and you don’t need any help. You should be able to handle this. I’ve done that too.

Well this past summer I made an additional trip to see my rheumatologist. For the past 18 months or so, my wrist had become gradually more swollen and it was time to get that taken care of. So I went in for an ultrasound and a shot of steroids to reduce the swelling.

It was there that I looked into the eye of the monster that was slowly destroying my body. It is hard to explain, but up until that point I had never really seen evidence that my body was deteriorating. I had painfully swollen joints in the past, but even to myself I looked ok. And there were moments where I really felt ok too. But I was still sick.

In the ultrasound, my doctor showed me the literal, undeniable deterioration of my wrist. When I asked what caused the inflammation and fluid buildup her response was, “ That’s just your disease.”

“Oh, JUST my disease.” And we chuckled at the flippancy with which we now referred to my rheumatoid arthritis.

But something changed that day. When I felt my wrist, looked at it, I just couldn’t shake the knowledge that under that skin there was something toxic eating at me.

I went to pick up my children whom my friend had been entertaining at the zoo. God bless her. She prayed for me and over me. God bless her. The swelling went down. In a few days my wrist was tip top. And God and I had a little conversation about helping others. Did I want to be healed completely? You know it! But I had it in my heart that there was something larger at work than a miraculous healing. There was a ministry here.

Hurt people sometimes hurt people. But helped people also help people.

I wanted to be healed, but more than that. I wanted to be helped. Healing would come eventually one way or another, and maybe not on this earth. But the helping, that could happen immediately. And if that was God’s intention, then that was sufficient for me.

My disease is a constant reminder that there are a whole lot of people out there that look ok, but they aren’t ok. Not on the inside. And they need help too.

So what do the Samaritans do? Love. Serve. Help. Notice the Samaritan in Jesus’ story never healed the robbed man. He cared for him. He helped him.

None of us have a call to heal. Take that off your shoulders right now.  You were never meant to carry the burden of healing- only the Great Physician can handle that. But you were called to help and be helped. Not because God needs a hand, but because in helping others you get to join in the marvelously detailed process God uses to care for His creation. You get a front-row seat to the unfolding of His plan for His people. It is a blessing to bless.

But here is one more important note: Maybe at this point your head is spinning because you can’t even conceive of helping anyone else when you can’t even help yourself.  You are the Jew left for dead. You have been through the wringer of illness, betrayal, grief, or any number of tragedies. And for that there is no condemnation, only know this: you are being helped. Even when you can’t see or feel it, God loves you enough to endure your struggle right there with you. You are not encountering, in fact you CANNOT encounter, anything God hasn’t already overcome in your stead.

Read these words for you. In fact, make it personal. Read it aloud twice and substitute the parenthesized words the second time through.

“For we (I) do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our (my) weaknesses, but we (I) have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are (I am)- yet was without sin. Let us (me) then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we (I) may receive mercy and find grace to help us (me) in our (my) time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16

Sometimes you are the Jew. Sometimes you are the Samaritan. At all times you are the beloved child of God. Even in helping you are being helped to help. You have a God who carries every detail of the ways of man, and you will not slip through His fingers.

God, bless us and open our eyes in thanksgiving for Your almighty and all-merciful help today. May it give us joy that bursts the bonds of our struggles and frees us to serve others in Your name. 

Lord, Help Me... {When Pain is a Gift}

I’m in the middle of reading 3 parenting books right now. Sounds a bit desperate, I know. Well, I’m really only technically “in the middle” of one of the books. Which happens to be fabulous and changed my perspective on princess parenting. The others (also awesome) I’m about a chapter or two into. I tell myself I just need to sit with those chapters and let them settle in my mind and life before I move on. Don’t want to rush these things, right? Truth is, by the time I get back to reading them, those things I learned in the previous chapters will have settled so far down I will have to reread them just to stir them back to the surface, if ya know what I mean…

I'm also "in the middle" of Lysa TerKeurst's new book, The Best Yes.

And 3 autobiographies.

And 2 fictional books. One of which is the second book of the second series I am "in the middle" of. The other series I need to complete... well I got the second book of that series at the library a couple days ago and I am so excited to start reading it...

I need help. 

What I really wanted you to know is just that. That is why I'm reading 3 parenting help books and a "self-help" book. Those other books are just fun facts to enlighten you on the type of person I am.

And when this morning I explained (quite loudly) to my two-year-old that no, I was NOT going to get her toast because Mommy needs to sit and read the BI-BLE... yeah. I needed a bit of help this morning.

What about you? What do you need? Help? Physical, emotional, spiritual? No, I"m really asking. Seriously I want to know. Here. On my Facebook page. On my Twitter handle @LJensensational. Shoot me an email at sljensen0129(at)me(dot)com.

If God could give you an extra dose of something... what would it be?

Why do I ask?

Because today I woke up painfully aware that I needed help. My wrist was killing me. I've been given a disease that at best is annoying. At worst crippling. And the arthritis affects my right wrist more than any other area.

So I thumbed through Isaiah "randomly" searching for what I needed to hear this morning and I just knew that Isaiah 41 had that something I needed to hear. So I skimmed it just make sure it wasn't a lot of wrath and foreboding. (I was pretty sure it wasn't, but didn't want to get through it and wonder why I read it... I know that's not a good attitude, I know.)

Then I read these words in Isaiah 41:8-10: 

You, Israel, my servant, 

Jacob whom I have chosen, 

the offspring of Abraham, my friend; 

you whom I took from the ends of the earth, and called from its farthest corners, 

saying to you, 

"You are my servant, 

I have chosen you 

and not cast you off"; 

fear not, for I am with you; 

be not dismayed, for I am your God; 

I will strengthen you and help you, 

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

(emphasis mine)

There are sooooo many goodies in these verses. Pages and books worth. But this morning I needed strength. I needed my right hand. I had neither. And God said, "You are mine. I chose you. I called you. Stop being afraid. I will be your strength. Stop trying to do it all. Your right hand is weak. Mine is strong. I will hold you up with my own hand." 

God knows I tend to rely on my own hands. Which is at best annoying. At worst crippling. So He gives me the only thing He knows can get the job done- His own hands.

And I think you might do that too. Rely on your hands when God's are the only ones that can do the job. That's why I want to know what you need. Because I want to write about that. I want to dig into the Word and search for God's hands of help... with you. Let's do that together. They are there. Let's grab them and never let go.

He has called you. Chosen you. You are His. He promises strength, help, courage, and far more. Let's take Him up on the offers. 

Praying God blesses your day, and that He leads you with His amazingly righteous right hand!

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On a side note: a prayer of Thanksgiving! God helped me spiritually and physically yesterday (right after I wrote this post). This morning I woke up with almost no pain in my wrist and I am just sooooo thankful for that!

Serving the Chronic Unbeliever {Messy Monday}

 

 

"I sometimes hear Christians talk about how terrible life must be for atheists. But our lives were not terrible. Life actually seemed pretty wonderful, filled with opportunity and good conversation and privilege. I know now that it was not as wonderful as it could have been. But you don't know what you don't know. How could I have missed something I didn't think existed?"

 

So said Fox News' Highly Reluctant Jesus Follower Kirsten Powers, in her article for Christianity Today.

 

The quote haunted me even days after reading it. I've heard that before, but it's so hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea of living for this world alone.

 

Don't worry- God clued me in yesterday morning. I woke up in pain. Not the good kind of pain that tells me I worked my body hard and it was paying off. Joint pain. I don't talk about it much because it seems so... blah. Mundane. It's not glamorous. It's just arthritis, and since it is so common and boring I'd rather just act like I don't have it.

 

I couldn't do that yesterday. My arthritis fooled me like it does from time to time. Like it did two days ago when I was feeling good. So good. Like, normal good. And I'd had that normal feeling for a few days in a row and I thought perhaps the most ridiculously unfunny thought, "Maybe it's gone."

 

 Really, a few days of ease and I think it's gone? Yet it happens every time.

 

We get used to what we know. When I wake up with joint pain every morning, albeit it is slight in comparison with so many, I get used to it. It can be tiresome sure, but I function and everything seems fine. Like Kirsten, I know now that it was not as wonderful as it could have been. But you don't know what you don't know.

 

Unbelief is like being diagnosed with chronic illness.

 

* You do what you can and you deal. When you're in a lot of pain, you get desperate and might even try a crazy remedy just to see if it works, but if there are no immediate results you move on.

 

* You get so used to the abnormal, that it becomes your normal. And that is fine as long as it is manageable. You live life as usual.

 

* Unless someone lives a pain free life in front of your face, you actually forget that some people have that option.

 

* You don't take advice from anyone on the topic unless you trust them. That means they either have a vague idea of how you feel, they have treated multiple people with your condition and have a heart for it, or they have a vested interest in your wellbeing- meaning they like you enough to listen to you.

 

Maybe our witness would be more effective if we saw unbelief for what it was: a soul-killing sickness that only Jesus can cure.

 

Would that add some urgency to the issue?

 

Would that take the pressure off of us to "save" the person, and place it on the Only One who can?

 

Would that highlight the true gift we have to serve those around us?

 

 

So how do the "well" serve the "sick"?:

 

* Don't "deal." Live. Jesus needs to be more than the crazy remedy for our personal lives. He needs to be our lives. I'm not talking the need to live perfectly as an example to the sinners around. I'm talking living in joy and thankfulness, and forgiving ourselves and others when we screw up. I'm talking living with patience and hope when the immediate results the world demands do not coordinate with the awesome plan God is working.

 

* Live normally in an abnormal world. Christians are weird. Maybe we are in the abnormal minority. So own it. Revel in it. As vanilla as it may seem to you when you step out of the gossip, out of the parties, out of the complaining- what you are doing is rebellious. You are rebelling against the world! That doesn't mean leaving out the ungodly participants. It means living respectably and serving neighbors no matter how they spend their time and resources. People know who they can trust- who they can talk to honestly- and when you show yourself to be humble and trustworthy, they'll pick up on that.

 

* Don't mask your struggles- show them Who's boss. Fake isn't following. Denial isn't discipleship. And just like people detect an honest person, they just as easily detect a false one. The only difference in our struggles is how we deal with them. Unbelievers ignore their struggles or bow to them. Believers do neither. Believers face their struggles for what they are, and bow only to the One who bears our burdens for us. One of the greatest gifts you can give your unbelieving neighbor is a glimpse into your imperfect life, because it is there that the might of God shines gloriously.

 

* Be a friend, not a fixer. Think about it- who do people speak most honestly to? Doctors and loved ones. So, unless you are interacting with them as their therapist, if you aren't willing to love them they probably won't be open to your witness. That doesn't mean you don't offer it, that just means you take the time to love first. Remember, the sick need relief.

 

* Pray for them. This is something that has come to mind a lot lately. I guess there have just been a lot of situations where all I could do was pray. All I could do. Like interceding to the Lord on behalf of a friend, taking that person's needs and cares to Jesus, was too little. What? It is the number one thing any of us can do, and as I ponder and pray on this topic I hope to add a new page to this blog for prayer scriptures, quotes, and concerns.

 

If you are curious about any other specific ways you can love the unbelieving (or the believing, for that matter), Colossians 3 has some absolutely rad words of wisdom. Seriously, so good. And after all that good stuff, Paul writes these words, that I pray will resonate with you all day long:

 

 

Praying for a love-filled, harmonious, and God-glorifying day for us all around.

Messy Monday: Tired, Touched

It's always encouraging to see examples of good parenting in the Bible. Like those dear mothers and fathers who followed Jesus around, bringing Him their kiddos, so that He would touch them.

His touches, unnecessary graces. Grace gifts that awaken senses when nothing makes sense.

The Five Love Languages of Children was wandering wild in my mind too awake late Saturday night. When my joints were achy and I forgot to take my medicine (again), and all those wonderings cropped up in my forest of future, trees I have yet to climb and yet I still can't see past them.

The medicines I will not take- refuse to. Praise God I am in the position to make those decisions.

The tears of frustration wondering when will it be again like it was then?

When I didn't have to worry about the food I ate. Or the workouts I did. Or how I spent my time and money. Or whether or not my wrists would buckle under the weight of the chunkiest gift of squishy-love I'd ever received. I just needed a God-sized hug for my heart-sized fatigue. So. tired.

I pondered those good parents- the ones who brought their children face to face with Jesus. Close enough to touch, and not just on Sundays.

And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them. Mark 8:16

It's a love language, physical touch. Jesus knew- He invented it.

It's why a handshake indicates its master's demeanor. It's what makes hugs warm and welcomed, or just... awkward.

And He didn't have to do it. In fact, Jesus didn't really have to touch anyone. People were healed just by touching His cloak (Matthew 9:20, 14:36; Mark 5:27-31, 6:56; Luke 8:44-47). He could raise the dead with just a word (Luke 7:14).

And His eyes say it all. "Who looks on the earth and it trembles..." Psalm 104:32

Still, He touched them. Because He loved them. The children. The leper (Matthew 8:1). The servant of the high priest in the garden. "And he touched his ear and healed him." Luke 22:51 No words of healing, no faith lecture, no snazzy point-and-shoot move with an ear tacked on like a tracking dart. Something tells me that touch said all that ear ever needed to hear.

 

I needed to hear it too. To look forward to the day when the faith meets the physical. When the cross I bear will be traded for a crown I wear, a crown He will place there. Not because He has to, because He wants to. When the only language will be love, and the embrace everlasting. When the pauper will become the princess by the providence of the King, and the only buckling will be the knees of the saved under the weight of the glory and joy and adoration of the Most High, the  Lord who saves us.

One day we will all be touched by Jesus, really touched. Healed. I can't wait. Until then, those unnecessary graces come other tangible forms. Today I pray He gives me the eyes to see, ears to hear, and love to spread the grace around. 

Five-Minute Friday: After

Liso-Jo Baker has another Five Minute Friday for us and I sure am loving the writing. She gives the word and a whole bunch of us write about it for five minutes, with no editing or any such nonsense. People all over the world do this craziness. Then we climb around the blogosphere and encourage other writers. So fun! Click on the button on the bottom right and join us!

Today's prompt: After

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GO

A diagnosis and all of a sudden I am a living version of "The House that Jack Built." Only it's more like "This is the house that God built. This is the disease that ravaged the house that God built."

"This is the man that cared for the woman who had the illness that ravaged the house that God built."

For better or worse.

In sickness and in health.

And while I surely wonder what could possibly happen in our future, surely God would not ask us to carry this burden for a lifetime, I look at my husband and see what must be done.

We must live the lives God has given us.

After God has radically changed our hearts of stone. After He has brought us together in marriage. After He has walked us through pregnancy. After a painful chronic illness has been diagnosed.

Because we Christians live After lives. We live after the fall. After the crucifixion. AFTER the resurrection.

Who will roll the stone away? It's been done. We showed up AFTER the fact.

And all that is left is to remember that we are the After people. After-death and INTO Life.

Bless the Lord, O my soul.

STOP