Peace In The Promise

Happy New Year, guys and gals!

Whether you cartwheeled, crawled or rolled on through to this here 2021, you made it! (Anyone else just happy to be here!?)

Now, I want to know, are you the kind of person that:

1) Sets goals for each new year,

2) Reflects on the year past,

3) Waits and sees where life will take you in the year

Growing up, we would gather as a family, write down and share our goals for the upcoming year. Upon leaving my parents’ household, I found that I would continue to do it out of habit, jotting down a few aims for the year. They were usually something along the lines of reading more, moving more, and an element of self development. Something I discovered though is that, like many people, I would be great at writing down my goals, and even planning them out, but I would often struggle to stick some of them out throughout the year (yes, even the SMART goals, haha).

This year, I had no intention of making strict goals or resolutions (I was tired y’all. I just wanted to catch my breath from the year that had passed, lol), but funnily enough, this is the first year in which I felt God whisper to me my personal “word” for the year:

This is the year of doing.

It made total sense to me as He spoke it, as, like I mentioned, I am quite the professional at getting ideas and planning them out, however I can often find myself stuck at that stage, for a myriad of reasons. In recent years I discovered that (over)planning was my safety net, as it gave the illusion of progress, without me actually having to take practical (or faith) steps to get closer to where I wanted to be…but more on that later.

If you haven’t already noticed, I am quite an introspective person. I analyse what I analyse, then I analyse that a number of times before I analyse that. I always reflect on why it is that I do what I do, and explore why I am the way that I am. I mostly enjoy the search – it’s like the treasure hunt of what makes up Mirembe (me). Now I’m not sure how much of my introspective tendencies come naturally, and how much of it has been taught and developed over time (as I recall my parents encouraging us to be reflective, to journal, and to talk things out when I was growing up) – whatever the case, it is how I operate today.

Something I have reflected on privately over the past couple of years is my desire to be in control (funny…the past “couple of years” = around about the time my husband and I got married…coincidence? I think not! Haha). Now, this sounded ridiculous to me at first, as I often feel so out of control and disorganised (scatter brain + mum brain is an interesting combination to say the least haha) so, how could I be controlling?

Well, let me break it down to you in this brief trip down memory lane:

Like many people, childhood trauma and experiences shaped my childhood brain to believe that when I was not in control, bad things happened. So, the only logical solution I could process at the time was for me to be in control of everything around me, all the time (very anxiety provoking, as you can imagine, it is very likely that this is where the heart of my wrestle with anxiety began!) I saw this trend throughout many of my childhood friendships and interactions with others. I tended to gravitate towards friendships and situations where I felt that I could have some sort of control over them. When I found myself in a circumstance (be it a friendship, a location, a situation etc.) where I did not feel in control, I no longer felt safe, and I tended to withdraw (dissociate).

Now, as I grew older, I noticed that cracks were beginning to form in my theory (that “When I’m not in control, bad things happen. But when I am in control, bad things won’t happen“), as I noticed that, even when I was “in control” over certain things, bad things could still happen. Wait, what!? That’s right. Through friendships falling apart, heartbreak, betrayal, accidents, mental health challenges, injury and more, it was becoming very evident to me that, even when I believed that I was “in control” I could still get hurt, as, every situation that I thought I had “control” over, and therefore felt safe in, proved to be potentially just as unpredictable, uncontrollable, and “unsafe” as those that I had no control over! This shattered my perception of the world, as I thought: If I cannot guarantee my safety in any situation, am I really ever safe at all?

Mind you, this wrestle continues to occur even after giving my life to Christ back in 2013, and it was actually heightened as I embarked on the journey of marriage and motherhood. I did not trust anyone (and still don’t for the most part if I am honest haha) to take care of my kids. My desire to keep them safe means that I often wrestle with the concept of control, more specifically I feel that I must be in control in order for them to be safe. God constantly reminds me that it is ultimately He that oversees them, as they are his children. He is there when I am not, and He watches over them, protecting them from even my own poor decisions! I will never forget when my son rolled off the bed for the first time. Guilt consumed me. Inadequacy swamped me. I felt that, if I, the one who is supposed to keep him safe, could not even do that, then how on earth is he going to be protected in the world? I felt that I had failed him as a mother (so not true! But mum guilt is real). Well, many rolls, falls, head bops, scraped knees, egg heads, and even a chipped tooth later (don’t ask) and I am still reminded by God that it is ultimately He that is watching over my kids, as He is watching over me. It is impossible for me to be in control of it all, that’s God’s job. I won’t be able to watch over my kids 24/7, and as they grow older, they will require more and more independence (I’m not ready, I will be spying on their teachers through the school gate. Yup. I see you Mrs Jackson! Haha)

Kalley Heiligenthal has a beautiful song called “Sanctuary” from her album Faultlines. In it, there is a line in which she sings:

“…control is not peace, control is not peace, it’s not what it seems, control is not peace…”

It always stops me in my tracks. It reminds me that my control is simply an illusion. It’s like trying to contain a stream of running water in your hands. The reality is, there is a limit to what I can control (and all my fellow control freaks said “Issa no from me”.) As daunting as this may seem, this is actually where the beauty of surrender comes in. The life in which I desperately seek to grasp control over ought to be surrendered to God, who alone is sovereign, all the days of my life. I was not created to carry the responsibility of the world, and that’s why I feel like I’m falling apart when I do. I had to (and continue to) learn each day that I cannot stop bad things from happening, but I can be the best me that I can, and surrender my life, and the lives that I am responsible for, to God, and trust His sovereignty through it all (eek, there’s that “T” word).

I have a tendency to be quite hard on myself (but I am improving! What has helped me is: rather than accepting the negative accusations that sometimes find their way into my mind, I talk back to myself and remind myself of the truth, and give myself permission to extend grace, love and kindness to myself), partially because of the pressure I place on myself to get things “right” and to make the “right decisions” – for, anxiety seeks to deceive my mind that “If I don’t get it right, then everything will crumble around me, I won’t be safe, and nor will my loved ones, and it will all be my fault.” Because of this experientially learnt childhood belief*, I often find myself asking “what if?” in response to ideas, desires and pushes from God.

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*SN: isn’t it interesting that many of the experiential and learnt beliefs that we acquire in childhood [particularly in response to trauma] carry on into adulthood? Our incredible brains often seek to protect us by doing what they can with the knowledge that they have at the time, be it by dissociating or developing a hypervigilance to what goes on around and/or within us; with that being said, I want to encourage us to know that we don’t have to remain there forever. Wherever you are on your journey, know that you can give yourself permission to heal and move forward. Sometimes that looks like innocently going about your business and encountering a situation that triggers your mind to default back to an acquired childhood belief (eg. thinking that you are in danger), and, instead of being consumed by it, talking back to yourself, assuring and reminding yourself of the truth of the present. You are safe, you are loved, you have help, and you are not alone! (always remembering that each experience is unique)*

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The love of, or the need to cling to control can be crippling, and it often does more damage than it heals, and it imprisons more than it liberates.

The comfortable “what if’s” that cocoon us in our comfort zones, wrap us in false comfort, and lull us into a false sense of security of “realism” and familiarity, are in fact the concrete walls that have kept us fixed in position, unmoving, and imprisoned in our fears of what could be beyond the walls. The very “what if’s” that were meant to be our safety net of protection, have become the cast iron gates that have separated us from our destiny.

Mirembe Serugga

What if I fail? What if I waste my time? What if I get hurt? What if I’m not hearing God right? What if I have it all wrong? What if I’m dreaming too big?

Fear has a really great way of masking itself as “realism”. We convince ourselves that all of the negative and/or unpredictable “what if’s” will actually happen; perhaps because it is what we have seen, what we have been told, or how we have been taught to perceive the world (by its limitations rather than its possibilities). But in being consumed by the fear laced “what if’s”, we rob ourselves of all that could be. We talk ourselves out of taking even a single step, as we have convinced ourselves that faith is too risky a foundation to step out on, and that we would rather stand on the confidence of our fear, as at least fear appears to produce “predictable” results.

Some of us have gone as far as get on the plane, put on the necessary safety equipment for skydiving, and stand on the ledge of the aircraft, secured to our instructor and parachute, but we have backed ourselves away from the edge of faith and back into the comfort of the plane saying “but what if this doesn’t work out?” If that’s you, I encourage you to not get so lost in calculating, analysing, and rationalising that you talk yourself out of the endless possibilities that are on the other side of your faith leap. Once you take that leap, you will unlock a whole new way of living. A whole new way of seeing the world. You will find yourself being capable of doing more than you ever thought you could, and not because you are your source, but because He is. It has always been Him. He has been wanting to take that leap with you, and He has been waiting for you to surrender and trust that He’s got you. Shut off the analyst in your brain for 5 seconds, just long enough to take a step out of faith instead of facts. Seeking out the facts, assessing risks, and planning ahead are not bad, but ensure that they do not become the walls of the prison that keep you from moving forward in faith.

When it comes to stepping out in faith, we often start out with an enthusiastic gallop, and yet we allow negative self talk, fear, challenges, comparison, discouragement and more to slow our gallop into a hesitant walk, and then we begin dragging our feet. Well, friend, let this be your (and my) slap on the backside to kickstart our gallop(s) again! Don’t allow the fresh fire that God has breathed into you be diluted by fear and overthinking. Being introspective and analytical can be a great gift, but if we are not careful, we can allow ourselves to get so lost within ourselves, and within the “why” and the “how”, that we fail and/or disqualify ourselves the right to take a step forward in faith (just ask Moses at the burning bush). You may think that everything needs to be together in order for you to progress, or that you need to somehow earn your position by being perfect, but that’s just not true. Countless of the called in the bible have very real and imperfect stories. Don’t disqualify yourself before even stepping in the ring. You never qualified yourself, so what makes you think that you can disqualify yourself? He who has called you will empower you throughout it all, if you will only surrender (there’s that “S” word).

My final encouragement is this:

Keep soaring on the wind that God has breathed upon you, draw upon Him for strength, rest in His embrace, drink from His living water, regain your strength, and set sail again. He is with you. Now is not the time to be lulled into a state of spiritual slumber, to back out of the race, or to give in to the persistent fear that tries to cripple us all. Stand firm. Don’t talk yourself out of a journey that you have yet to begin. Remain hopeful and full of courage. What he started he will finish. He will never leave the righteous forsaken.

Peace!

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. – Galatians 6:9