fear

Lost Boys Like Me

The Way to Neverland

We were living at my grandmother’s house; my father’s mother. I was 5, and plenty had already happened to me.

Someone rented this movie called Hook, probably my dad. My parents both had night shifts at Anthony’s pizza. I don’t remember my Grandma Shirley building me a sheet tent any other time, but she did on this night. I laid on my stomach, disappearing into that magical place that sheet tents provide for a kid. There were chocolate chip cookies and a movie I’d never heard of being put on.

Peter Panning was old; grumpy and boring, and completely disconnected. But then Julia Roberts entered the scene, and my heart began to drift into another world, as she led Peter and myself past the clock, through the clouds and into the morning light.

I’ll probably never forget that night.

I loved Disney’s version of Peter Pan, but Hook… it made this fantasy feel more tangible. More real. Something I could achieve, at least in my heart. The sad thing I missed as a child was that Hook was a story of family reconciliation. It encouraged coming back to reality, not leaving it.

But I wanted to leave.

A few weeks ago, several people (including my husband) messaged me within a few hours of each other telling me to listen to this song called Lost Boy by Ruth B. I’m not sure why, but I ignored the first several suggestions. But after the 4th person asked me if I had listened to it, I caved. I laid down on my bed with ear buds, which is unusual for me to do when listening to a suggested song. But there was a prickle inside me to really hear it. It started, and I don’t think I even got through the first chorus and I was already sobbing.

“I am a lost boy from Neverland, usually hanging out with Peter Pan and when we’re bored we play in the woods, always on the run from Captain Hook. “Run, run, lost boy, ” they say to me. Away from all of reality.”

Someone wrote a song about me.

How did she know? How could she have known what happened in my heart all of those years ago in that sheet tent?

Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, Wendy Darling, even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book…

I felt out of place as a child. It’s difficult to describe, but it was like I was living and watching the world happen around me like it was a sequence of images that I wasn’t a part of, but could stick my hand in and walk around. I felt weird and different, and often rejected. I became familiar with loneliness when I was 3. I remember feeling it in my loft- yes, I had a loft, with stairs that led up to it and everything. An extra room in our townhouse just for me, filled with stuffed animals and toys… and loneliness.

I love my siblings deeply, but having them only further solidified that distance and rejection I felt on a regular basis. My parents were just trying to survive, and no one ever seemed to know how to live well or fix all of the broken. Everyone was just surviving with painted smiles on their faces, and I saw it from the beginning. I remember realizing I needed this man called Jesus when I was 3, but even knowing he was there-ish, there wasn’t a clinging-to with Him, because I didn’t know how to even do that.

Along came Peter Pan. I remember closing my eyes late at night and imagining Tinker Bell pattering on my window until I let her in; flying above my head and sprinkling a sparkly fix that would lift me into the air and take me away.

…”As we soared above the town that never loved me, I realized I finally had a family, Soon enough we reached Neverland, peacefully my feet hit the sand and ever since that day…”

…it’s had a decent amount of my heart. You’ve heard me talk about Peter Pan over the years; it’s why so many people sent me the song saying “this reminds me so much of you!”

It wasn’t until I listened to it that I realized that it’s not a good thing that Ruth B’s song reminds you of me.

For a massive portion of my life on earth so far, I’ve allowed a fantasy to be my family. I’ve been in community with a fairy tale. As I type this, a sick feeling rises in my stomach and my skin feels awkward and tingly. My flesh is completely uncomfortable with sharing this with you because it wants to keep it to itself, like an invisible security blanket. I’ll walk outside, and participate with others, and laugh and cry and experience life… with my secret blanky.

Writing this is like leaving my blanky on the bed and stepping out into the world without it.

You know what just came to my mind as I typed that last sentence? Oh my gosh, I totally forgot about this.

In a Charlie Brown Christmas, after Charlie Brown gets that pathetic tree and everyone is pissed at him, he yells “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?” Linus proceeds to share the story of Jesus birth, and when he says, “and the angel said unto them, ‘fear not…'” he drops his blanket, and proceeds to tell the rest of the story. What a subtle yet massive example of the power Christ has over fear.

Even though I claim to be a child of God, I’ve still been holding onto my lost boy identity. I succumbed to it when I was 5 and I’m almost 30, and it’s still in there.

I can’t be both.

I’m not a lost boy.

I’m a marvel made from dirt by the hands of the Beginning and the End, the Creator of the universe, a universe that holds worlds much more magnificent than Neverland. I belong to the 3-in-1, which puts even the best of fantasies to shame and the thing science will never be able to explain.

_____________________________________________________________

You know why that song feels like someone figured out a way to get into my heart and then write a tune about how I feel?

Because everyone feels this way, at some point. I’m not special. We all walk around each other, lost boys with nerve endings on the outside, recoiling at the slightest blow of the wind. We have all felt weird and out of place and rejected.

It’s why stories like Peter Pan, Harry Potter, The Grinch, and many others are so wildly adored. They are stories of outcasts who finally find what they are looking for- a place to belong.

I’m coming to realize that so much of our reactions come out of that desperate place of wanting to be loved and accepted and known. That breaks my heart. IT BREAKS MY HEART THAT WE ARE THIS WAY. That someone, anyone, millions of people, right now in this moment, are feeling left out, abandoned, and forgotten.

The truth is, God wants YOU, and He welcomes you in, exactly the way you are, lost and all. He’s not gonna let you stay a lost boy though. If you walk towards Him, He’s going to spend the entirety of your life getting into that beat up heart of yours and pull all of the yuck out. All of those lies you’ve ever believed and all of the things you cling to. He wants you found and free, not lost. He’s gonna give you family that transcends earthly blood, and redeems all of the broken bits and pieces that have left you terrified of people and vulnerability. He’s gonna do it through celebrations, and sufferings, and conflict and reconciliation, and it’s all gonna produce a joy in you that can’t be explained. You’ll be known, and you’ll belong, and there won’t be anything anyone or you can do to change that.

You don’t have to be a lost boy, and I don’t have to be either.

 

 

Amber Writes: Be Still

I AM GODMy friend and Pastor’s wife, Amber, is an amazing artist and writer. She has often been able to tap into the deepness of how things feel and write it out in such a way that brings a real peace, at least for me. I haven’t posted in over a week, due to exhaustion and a long and early labor, but as I hear of the painful things going on around me and the things I’m feeling in my own heart, I felt this was appropriate to share for today. I hope this piece Amber wrote brings you as much peace as it did for me. 


 

“Be still and know that I am God. 
I will be exalted among the nations, 
I will be exalted in the earth!” 
-Psalm 46:10 

 
Be still… 

When I am afraid, when my heart is pounding. 

When all I can do is exist in fear and panic. 

You bring peace to my troubled soul.

The turbulent sloshing of my emotions is stilled by your presence.

I know the assurance and comfort of your words, your hand on my heart. 

 

Be still and know… 

As my life spins with uncertainty and I quiver at quaking ground beneath my feet.

When I am reeling, knocked breathless by the bile of anxiety crawling up my throat, you still my doubts.

When disease and financial ruin steal away my equilibrium,  

You breathe rest and security by reminding me of your past and continued provision for me, by reminding me of your goodness, your greatness.  

 

Be still and know that I Am God… 

When I am angry.

When my self-righteousness and need for justice becomes greater in my mind than your divinity.

When I begin to chafe at hurts and fiery darts hurled at me and those I care for, and I plot a way to set things right. 

In your still small voice you remind me of my sinfulness and my own need for your grace, your mercy. 

You correct my wandering heart for you alone are God, the righteous judge. And your ways are not my ways and your ways are always good. 

 

Be still and know that I am God… 

When I am with you and my mind wanders, when I have been given an opportunity to be in your presence and I cannot forget myself, you gently remind me of your presence in my heart. You lead me into worship and intimacy by revealing yourself, your love for me and leaving in me the joy of praise to the lover of my soul. You allow me to simply enjoy you. 

 

Be still and know that I am God… 

When I am sad and feel alone, when my fear of vulnerability imprisons me behind my walls of defense. When I am struggling to feel connected, worthy, treasured. You speak to me with the closeness, familiarness of old friends, brought together long ago and sharing all of life. You reveal my own heart to me with the intimacy of a lover who knows my vulnerabilities and loves me, loves me with such tenderness, a delicate handling of the wounded places in my heart. You heal my hurts and replace the scarred tissue with new life. 

 

Be still and know that I am God, I will be exalted… 

When I am fretful about the future. When it seems as if the battle is too much, too long, too hard. When it seems as if the victory has been snatched away and those I love are left hurting, wounded, bleeding. When I have been betrayed and watched my fellow soldiers walk away from the fight… 

You are strong. You infuse my weary heart with the calm, steady assurance of your victory, already won by your son. You invigorate my battle worn heart with your sovereignty over all things, people and times. You give me promise and hope that your works will be finished, that the power residing in me is the power that spoke the universe into place, commands legions of angels and can bring about the resurrection of the dead into new life. You are the great I Am, the Alpha and the Omega. 

 

Be Still and Know that He is God.  

Overcast clouds

Overcast Clouds // JATWFear is like the overcast clouds, standing right in between sunshine and storm; joy and suffering. It’s like the holding of a breath, waiting for the rain to fall down in a rush. The temperature drops, and the wind begins to swirl around you. The hair stands up on your arms as you await for that first drop to land on your face.

Overcast clouds tell you to stay inside; it MIGHT storm. You wouldn’t want to take the chance and get wet, would you? You don’t need to breath in the fresh air. Stay. Inside.

What it doesn’t want you to rationalize is that whether or not it storms, you’re free to go outside as you please. If it doesn’t rain and the clouds dry up, you have the gleaming sun to dance across your skin. If the skies do choose to open up its floodgates, then… well, you’ll likely get wet. But getting rained on is rarely as terrible as we anticipate it to be.

Sure, you might get soaked. There’s a chance you’ll find yourself cold and frustrated. It might even cause a fever, forcing you to go back inside and rest.

Flower buds need the touches of sunlight AND water to bloom.

Embrace the sunshine.

Embrace the rain.

Sometimes, we get to experience these beautiful weather reactions called sun showers. They are my favorite. Yes, it’s raining, but the sun is also high and bright and reminding me that it’s still there. It’s in these showers that I reminisce on what it’s like to feel deep joy in the midst of suffering. It’s possible, I promise.

But if you find yourself listening to those overcast clouds, that’s okay. It’s a normal reaction. Acknowledge the clouds, and open up the front door anyway. Put one foot in front of the other, and plant your feet in the dirt you were made from. Close your eyes, and listen to the swirls of the wind. Smell the sweetness in the air as the temperature begins to cool. Slowly reach your hands out in front of you and whisper…

Here you go, Father. I hand this over, take the fear. Whether the sun shines or the rain falls… this life is worth the living, and from my lips your name shall be praised.