Limitation as Relief from Anxiety

Many of God's attributes pertain only to Him and not to us humans, according to theologians. For example, only God is eternal, self-sufficient, omnipotent, and sovereign. In a book titled None Like Him: 10 Ways God Is Different from Us (and Why That's a Good Thing), Jen Wilkin describes ten of these attributes and why we as limited creatures can draw comfort, hope, and reassurance from the fact that they are true only of God.

Reading this book is showing me something my husband has been trying to tell me for almost as long as he's known me (sorry, honey!): my anxiety stems from my trying to control what I cannot control, know what I cannot know, and be what I cannot be. Essentially, I feel anxious when I reach the boundaries of my humanity and feel responsible for things outside those boundaries.

One night, my toddler was throwing fits at bedtime. At the same time, my infant was screeching loudly in my arms as my husband and I tried to wrangle the toddler into her bedroom for a peaceful routine that would lead to all-night sleep. Meanwhile, my anxiety level was climbing higher. I felt concerned that my baby was learning to scream from my toddler. I recognized as I reflected on the list of attributes pertaining only to God that I felt anxious because I was trying to be omniscient (Is my baby learning screaming from my toddler?) and sovereign (How can I stop this from happening?), when in reality I cannot be either of those things. When I stopped and noticed that I wasn't responsible to know the answer that I could not know or control the situation that I could not control, my shoulders relaxed a bit and some of the tension melted. Of course, some tension remained, as there were still a screeching infant and fit-throwing toddler to be dealt with.

Knowing the limits of my humanity and accepting instead of fighting them allowed me to be calmer and feel more peaceful, even in the midst of a trying moment. Wilkin writes that "[w]e are capable of bearing [God's] image as we were intended only when we embrace our limits." If I can stop trying to be God, I can reflect Him better. For me, as a person who struggles with anxiety, releasing that burden of incorrect responsibility - the burden of controlling and directing things that aren't mine to control and direct - is a huge relief.

As Wilkin succinctly puts it: "Because God owns everything, he is responsible for its care and has the right to do with it what he wishes." This is not to say that we do not have responsibility to care for the people and possessions God places into our little spheres of influence, but the ultimate responsibility rests with Him. The care that we take has boundaries and limitations based on our humanness, and these limitations should free us to love well, without worry.

Arrows

Heidi St. John's book Becoming Mom Strong discusses the biblical idea that children are "like arrows in the hands of a warrior" (Psalm 127:4). St. John describes her purpose as a parent this way: "Surely we were born for this - to launch our arrows into the world for the Kingdom of God!" In other words, our children do not stay with us forever; they depart at some point or other, and our job is to prepare them to depart well and at the right time, with true aim.

The other day, my toddler (R) woke up early (even for her), at about 5:30. My husband had just that same week started a new job with a new schedule, which allows him to be home in the mornings instead of gone before the rest of us wake up. Our theory on R's wake-up time was that partly she was just excited to see her daddy and was ready to start the day. Of course, along with the early rising came the early beginning of a long day full of "why" questions and stubborn two-year-old willfulness. My perspective was already keyed to be positive (thanks to the Ann Voskamp Joy Dare, which had a prompt for that day to look for gifts found in difficult people); otherwise, I would have absolutely lost it. Instead I only partially lost it.

In any case, I reflected on R's personality that day and how the challenges she presents now may be shaped with her future usefulness as an "arrow" in mind. She loves her daddy, which indicates to me that she has the capacity to develop close and healthy relationships as she matures. She is full of curiosity and the desire to learn, and I'm hoping this desire will stay with her so that she dives into whatever work God has for her with just as much enthusiasm when she's 30 as she does now. Her willfulness now may serve her well in the future by helping her stand firm in her convictions when she faces trials at work, in relationships, and from the general culture (which I suppose will be even more difficult to walk through as a Christian when she is an adult than it is now).

So let me pray that these (sometimes challenging) qualities will develop into beneficial traits as R grows, and that her dad and I will have the wisdom to help her hone her gifts and her personality now, in preparation for the aiming and launching season to come.

Walking with her until she's ready to launch.

"Three Hard Eucharisteos"

Ann Voskamp suggests looking for daily gifts from God in the little things. A simple pat of butter can be viewed with gratitude and seen as a loving reminder that God cares. In Voskamp's "Joy Dare Collection" challenge, she lists "3 hard eucharisteos" (three things for which it is hard to give thanks) as a prompt for seeking God's gifts on April 16th. On that day, my daughters were sick with a cold (which they are still getting over). Consequently, sleep was even more lacking than usual, and my husband was primarily taking care of our wakeful, snotty, needy toddler at night since I'm still caring for our two-month-old who wakes a couple of times a night anyway. My three gifts from God that day were:

1. Two sick girls. A reminder that I'm not in control of their health, let alone their choices as they get older. I can do all I can to be a good mom and set a good example, but that's it. God holds them and loves them even more than I do.

2. Sleepless nights. A reminder that God sustains me through the times when I don't think I have strength to get anything done. He gives grace for each moment, including the sleep-deprived ones.

3. Not being able to sleep with my husband (cuddles being an important way I feel connected to him). A reminder that my ultimate comfort, security, and encouragement come from God, not my husband. I can tend to rely too much on my husband for support, though he is just a person, and cannot take the place of God in meeting every emotional need that I have.