Scratching or Soothing

Okay, reader. This may seem like a weird thing to share with the world of the internet, but I have chronic dry skin, especially on my legs. I went to the dermatologist a few years ago, and he called it by its fancy medical name, but all I know is that’s it’s extremely itchy and miserable. It’s particularly bad during the summer time, when the heat and humidity aggravate it, making my skin absolutely crawl with itchiness. This past week, as the spring weather has finally, beautifully become warm, my legs and ankles have become dismally itchy.

True, there are far worse things for a person to have to deal with, and I really have no right to complain about itchy skin. But it’s something that I’ve dealt with since I was in middle school, and, though it may seem like an insignificant thing, it’s taught me what I think is a significant spiritual truth regarding dealing with temptation. That may seem odd, but let me do my best to explain.

You see, reader, I’ve learned that when my skin starts to tingle and crawl and scream with an inconsolable itch, there are always two possible responses.

I can scratch the itch, or I can soothe it.

Scratching an itch is always the immediate, natural response. Gross as it sounds, I often scratch without even thinking about it, and for a brief moment, it feels so, so good. You know how it feels when you scratch a mosquito bite – feels good, right? But the problem with scratching an itch, as you probably know, is that it always makes the itch worse. As satisfying as scratching an itch might feel, in the next moment, the itch comes back even stronger and more unbearable than before. Not to mention the fact that you’re scratching (a.k.a. damaging) your skin. Sometimes it’s so bad that my skin starts to bleed, and the itching will always be worse than it was before. Not good. Not fun.

Soothing an itch, on the other hand, looks a lot different. This is when my skin begins to crawl, but instead of scratching it, I get my lotion and lather up my legs like there’s no tomorrow. Sometimes when the itching gets really bad I have to go the tub and run cold water over my legs to calm down the inflammation (or whatever it is that’s going on). Either way, with lotion or cold water, the itch actually subsides, and my skin isn’t damaged in the process. In fact, the lotion helps to heal my skin as it soothes the itching.

Maybe this is all way more information than you want, but something that I’ve learned is that having a really bad itch is the same as facing temptation. And there are always the same two responses.

My first option is to scratch the itch. The response that comes most naturally is to satisfy my sin by giving in to temptation, which provides immediate, false satisfaction. Pursuing sin only makes temptation harder to resist the next time, and it’s incredibly damaging to me, my relationships with others, and, most significantly, my relationship with God.

My second option is to soothe the itch: I can fight temptation by speaking truth to myself, by running to the Father and asking for His strength and grace. I can remind myself of who God is and who I am in Christ. These are the things which quiet the voice of temptation and help to heal the brokenness in my heart and mind.

Though they seem to be opposite parts of who I am, my skin and my soul actually need the same kind of treatment. Just like I need good lotion to ease the itching of my dry skin, I need the truth of God’s goodness, grace, and greatness to calm the restless cravings of my spiritual flesh.

And when I put on lotion instead of scratching and when I run to God instead of pursuing sin, I can always trust that healing will take place. The only question is if will I be intentional in pursuing that healing. Because healing is always available. 

The Uphill Hike

This past Monday, I hiked the Chimney Tops trail with my dear friends Pamela and Beverly. It was the first time I had ever hiked that trail. My friends tried to warn me how difficult it was, but man! I felt like I was dying. It's been a good month (at least) since I've made time to go running, and even if I had been running faithfully, hiking is a different kind of exercise. When I'm out exploring nature, I like to look at the trees and sky and everything around me, but it wasn't long before all my attention was focused on the ground in front of me. My legs burned and felt like jelly at the same time, and I struggled to keep putting one foot in front of the other as we walked up the steep trail.

Now, I generally think of myself as a pretty athletic person, but I was the one in our group who had to take breaks the most often. Pamela and Beverly were very gracious in stopping for me and walking at my pace, and, though I'm usually a the-more-the-merrier type of person, I was actually relieved that my other friend, who walks and hikes at a much faster pace, was not there to make me feel even slower than I already felt. (Sorry, Kristen. You know I love you.)

I'm not going to lie, my sluggish pace and intense difficulty in hiking was very discouraging to me, especially when little kids and senior citizens started passing us on their way down, looking like they had taken a five-minute walk in the park. I was utterly embarrassed to realize how weak and out of shape I am, especially compared to Pam and Bev and all the strangers around me. We would take a short break to catch our breath, then Pam and Bev would look at me or ask if I was ready to go, and we kept going. Then a few minutes later, I had to stop again. Pathetic.

There was a certain section of the trail that I really thought was going to kill me. It's over a hundred yards (I'm really bad at estimating distances.) straight uphill, like a never-ending staircase of doom. I had to stop so many times, and I felt humiliated because of my own inability to do what seemed like a simple thing. Something that everyone around me seemed able to do with far less difficulty than me. Halfway up that section, we took a more significant break, actually sitting down on some rocks next to the trail. Dozens of people passed us by on their way up or down the trail, and all I kept thinking was, "Why is this so hard for me? How am I supposed to make it to the top?" I looked up the trail, and all I saw was more stairs, more steep trail, more difficulty. (In fact, I'm pretty sure that, as we got further into the hike, every time we turned a corner and I saw more uphill trail, I verbally moaned. I don't know why Pam and Bev didn't slap me around or tell me to quit my complaining.)

Then Pam, sensing my discouragement, said, "Look back at the trail. Look at how far you've come." From where I sat on the rock, I turned around and looked at the trail below. I had certainly made it a long way.

"You've made it this far," Bev chimed in. "You can do it."

I don't think I had the breath to respond, but after a minute, I stood up, and we kept walking, slowly putting one foot in front of the other.

Maybe it seems really insignificant and lame (because, let's be real, I am incredibly out of shape), but the hike became a mental battle for me. "Just put one foot in front of the other," I thought. "Just one foot in front of the other. Don't think about the whole mountain, just make this step. Now this step. Now this step. Step. Step. Step."

It was hard. I didn't want to continue. But I realized that I would never make it to the top if I didn't keep moving. It didn't matter how slowly I walked (and, gratefully, Pam and Bev are very patient people), I just had to keep plodding up the trail. It didn't matter how much faster everyone else seemed to be going, I just had to keep hiking. I knew that if I kept going, eventually I would reach my goal.

And I realized that the same thing applies to my spiritual life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm climbing an impossibly steep trail, a trail that seems so much easier for everyone else, a trail that I can't see the end of. Sometimes this walk with the Lord is so hard that I can't even look around at the beauty that surrounds me, and even making the next step feels like a challenge. I'm often embarrassed and discouraged by how much I struggle, by how often I fail and need help, encouragement, and rest. I feel like I should be doing better, that everyone else finds it so much easier than me, that they'll surely reach the mountaintop sooner than I will.

The truth is that I am climbing a steep trail.

I realized while I was hiking that it's okay for my spiritual journey to be hard and painful and challenging. But I shouldn't let that stop me from putting one foot in front of the other. I'm not called to be as fast as everyone else - I'm not even on the same trail as everyone else. I'm called to keep making small steps, slow as they may be, toward the top of the mountain, toward joy and grace and intimacy with God.

Not only is it okay for me to go slowly, it's also okay for me to need encouragement and rest. I know I wouldn't have made it to the top of the Chimneys if Pam and Bev had not been there with me, and I know that God uses the people in my life to encourage me to keep going in my spiritual journey too.

And even if I can't see the end of the path, I know that it's there, and I know that it'll be worth all the pain of reaching it. I can find encouragement in how far I've come and the things I have conquered, and the more I go on climbing the mountain, the more I fight sin and pursue God, the stronger I'll be.

And more than all that, I know that I'm not called to walk up the trail in my own strength. God is with me, giving me strength and leading me to Himself, where there is grace and love and joy everlasting.

The view from the top.

Why Snow?

In December, I heard from several sources that we would be getting quite a bit of snow this year - more than last year. I still didn't expect what we've gotten these past two weeks. Never in my memory has snow lasted this long in Knoxville. If we're out of school tomorrow for another day, that'll make two full weeks of snow days.

As much as I'm inclined to complain about how this affects my lesson planning, I love the snow. 

Last week, one of my roommates and I sat in our living room, reading and watching the snow come down. After a day of freezing rain and sleet (which wasn't pretty at all), this was her observation:

"I'm glad that God made snow and not just ice and sleet. It's so pretty."

I don't think she realized how profound that was.

God could have just made sleet and hail and freezing rain that cover the world in ice. But He didn't. He also made snow. 

Snow. 

No matter how many times I've seen it, I'm still left amazed by how it coats the earth in a soft, white blanket, muting the sounds of restlessness and busyness that normally fill the air. Cold and lovely. When I walk through the snow, it's like I turn into a four-year-old, giggling and tromping around, watching my feet make footprints as I run around under snow-frosted trees. I love getting bundled up and heading out into the snow, the cold air kissing my nose, my fingers going numb when I make snowballs.

There is something utterly delightful about snow. Yes, I realize that snow can be inconvenient if you're trying to drive somewhere (or make lesson plans), and I realize that some people just don't like cold weather, but for a child playing in the snow, it's magical. If we're honest, playing in the snow and even walking through the snow is just plain fun. And I think that tells us something about the character of God.

God didn't make a world of pure practicality, creating things merely for their function. God made things that are breathtakingly beautiful. 

God made light and color, waterfalls and sunsets, rolling green hills and vast oceans, autumn colors and spring rain. He made cheerful songbirds and hyperactive squirrels, friendly dogs and mellow elephants. He created microorganisms too small to see, and He created colossal stars in galaxies flung far across space. God created snow. God created a world that fills us with wonder, a world that delights us. 

Why? Why did God bother with such beauty? Why does it matter?

I think that God created a beautiful world because He Himself is beautiful. God created a world full of wonders because He Himself is wonder-full. God created a delightful world because He is delightful, and He loves to delight His children. 

It's like when a husband surprises his wife with flowers. The flowers don't serve a practical purpose. They're just beautiful. And they communicate how much the man loves his wife. 

That's why I love snow. It's just beautiful. It shows me how beautiful and wonderful God is. It shows me how much He loves me. And I think that's the point.