Sometimes Good Desires Become Disordered

What do we think about when we let our minds wander? Is it God... or something else?

I heard that question a while back, and it’s stuck with me.

Usually my answer is something else. Maybe you can relate. When my mind wanders, I think about a whole host of things before I pull my focus back to God. I think about my job. I think about my purpose and my duration of life in New York. I think about my social life. I think about my family. I think about my health. And then I think about all these thoughts I’m having. It’s a constant cycle.

More than anything, my thoughts continually drift to people and relationships. God is boldly illuminating that idol during this season of my life. My natural inclination is to trust in earthly humans and earthly plans instead of in The Lord and His eternal plan.

I love with my whole heart. I think being around people is one of my giftings. I am an extrovert, through and through—an ESFJ, if you want to get specific. I'm social, sensitive, and loyal. I very much enjoy caring for people.

But I will admit that I often place too much weight on my desire to be with people. Just the thought of friends not wanting to spend time with me makes me feel absolutely awful. I would feel even worse if a friend needs my help and I can't provide it.

Why am I like that? I think I can put people and relationships before God—people are big while God is small. I don't want to do that, yet I do. I have to check myself because God has called us to love Him first every day. The desire to be with people and in community is a good desire. God wants that for us. He designed us to live life together, and He calls us to love one another. At the same time, He wants us to keep Him as our number one.

James 1:14-15 says,

“But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.”

Matt Chandler of The Village Church gave an awesome sermon in which he talked about this passage. You can desire good things, he says, but if you elevate that good desire above God, you become enslaved to it. Good things become ultimate things. I see my own tendency to do that when it comes to people and relationships.

My desires are disordered and absolutely lead to sin. My relational desire takes root in affirmation and approval. When l have a packed social calendar, I feel very much approved of and self-assured. When I have a boyfriend, I feel cared for and supported. Friends, family, and a significant other make me feel worthy, confident, and loved. I feel secure because I have tangible relationships and people around me showing me how much they care. And then I easily trust God.

I've always known that I like being around people and I’d rather be social than be alone. But it wasn't until this summer that I realized the extent of my brokenness in this area. I moved to a new neighborhood, which meant a new church congregation and a new community. I wasn’t as close to these people as my friends in my old neighborhood. Plus, finding quality time with my old friends became more difficult. We no longer lived within walking distance of each other, and logistically it was became more work to hang out. It’s summertime, too, which means everyone’s leaving the city and taking trips whenever they can.

I really craved time together with these friends, and I struggled with being alone, even if I was resting. For a long time, I didn’t see this as sinful. After all, what's wrong with wanting to spend quality time with people?

As I went through a breakup, though, I had no choice but to face my disordered desire head-on. And whoa, was I confronted with sin. I was able to see how much I want affirmation and approval through other people. How I somehow felt more worthy when I had a boyfriend. How I felt more secure in myself because I had a human man telling me he liked me and showing me how wonderful I was. How I felt just a little bit more complete when I could check off the boxes for career, church, friends, family, and a significant other. With this guy’s absence, I was left with myself and having to come to terms with who I am on my own—just me and Jesus.

My greatest realization? The unconditional assurance that God loves me and thinks I'm worthy just the way I am. I must look to Him for affirmation, approval, comfort. It doesn't matter whether or not I have a thriving social life, a solid church community group, or a significant other. God still loves me. Maybe He isn't there physically holding my hand, or texting me throughout the day, or sitting across from me for brunch. But He is there. He's in the sun and the sky. He's in the wind and the trees. Most of all, He’s in my heart.

Knowing He dwells within me and is sustaining me gives me great hope, even when I feel like a sinful mess. This doesn’t mean I have it all figured out. I don’t. I’m still learning who I am. I’m seeing what faith looks like in the midst of dashed hopes and rejection. I’m working on my relationship with the Lord, and I have to continually reset my desires. I have to remind myself that every day calls for a continual act of surrender. It’s not fun to have sins brought to the surface. But God is pruning me of those thorns—and the fruit that comes from this process is sure to be sweet.

Emily's Story: Delivered From My Fears

I've known Emily for three years. We met during an internship and have been friends ever since. Emily is one of the bravest people I know, with a true fire for Jesus that emboldens everything she does. She's also super fun to be around and can dance like nobody's business. Emily's been a huge force in my own faith journey, but she has been on quite the journey herself. I'll let her tell you about it in her own words. — M

When you and I met right out of college, I was really going through a hard time. 

My mom and stepdad were getting divorced. As the oldest of six kids, I felt like I had to hold things together for my siblings. Meanwhile, I had just gone through a breakup of my own. Then I moved myself across the country for an internship in a small Pennsylvania town where I knew no one! 

I couldn't see it then, but I was depressed. Just a total mess. I knew that I needed to pull it together. At the same time, I couldn't do it on my own. I joined the local church, which is when my faith became really real. Before, I was pretty delusional about my faith. I wasn't behaving like a Believer.

I had been in a relationship with a non-Believer for almost a year and was really lost. Once that relationship ended, I felt ashamed for how I had walked away from God and feared He no longer would love me. I thought I had disappointed him beyond repair. I felt like damaged goods for future relationships and just about myself in general.

My struggles became so apparent. I realized that I wanted to be wanted. 

For so long, I sought that fulfillment from other gods—guys, my career, my body. I craved the attention of men. I was determined to be the perfect student and have the perfect career. I had also engaged in an eating disorder for years. I had so much shame from chasing these idols. They didn't fulfill me, and I was seriously unhappy. I started seeing a counselor and really plugged in at church. I was prescribed antidepressants, which helped me significantly and I take to this day. I was beginning to be open with my struggles.

I needed grace. For the first time, I felt how much I needed it. 

When that internship ended, I took a job in Dallas. Again, I knew no one. Honestly, I felt like I didn’t fit in there. 

But God wanted me in Texas. I think He brought me there just to be a part of The Village Church. My apartment was literally two miles away from The Village's main campus. I didn't even know what The Village was until I moved there. I immediately joined a small group. We were involved in each other's lives and were very honest with each other. I had never had that kind of intense accountability; I needed it. 

God put this group of Believers in my life during a season of great guilt and shame. I remember I had drunkenly hooked up with this guy, and I felt so disgusted with myself. Again, it went back to that whole desire to feel wanted. I really didn't want to tell my small group about it, but I did. They put hands on me and prayed for me. By confessing it, God was teaching me to let it go.

I had chosen such brazen sins against God. It had become a spiral of "Well, I've already done x, y, and z, and I can't make it up to God now." Because I hate making mistakes. I hate being wrong. I'm a perfectionist. But I've learned God doesn't go, "Oh you've been a good girl this week, I'm going to bless you."

It's not about being good or bad.

God doesn't work like that. That's where His grace came in. The thing is, I already had it! The Holy Spirit was working in me. Even though I didn't love myself at the time, God did. And that is what kept me hanging on. 

My time in Texas was a season of giving up a lot of pride. God was breaking down my walls. He was showing me that getting help for a struggle doesn’t make you weak. It's quite the opposite. Being perfect is not attainable. Accepting that, and knowing God still loves me, has been life-changing.

About nine months into living in Texas, I was laid off. That's when the feeling of loneliness really hit me. But God was there. I look back and see that layoff was a blessing in disguise. The Lord brought me back to Pennsylvania, to work full-time at the same company where we'd interned. It was what I like to call a "pillow landing." I was emotionally fragile from being laid off and starting all over again. It was my third move in as many years. I needed familiarity, and God brought me that. 

My faith continued to grow. God was teaching me so much. And a year later I was laid off again. I was a 24-year-old college graduate with two layoffs in the books! It definitely hurt my pride.

Yet this second time around, I had a much different mindset. God wasn't punishing me or trying to make my life worse. He was using these experiences to grow me.

A lot of my identity was wrapped up in what I was doing and where I was working. I began to realize life is not about that. God is going to provide. I had prayed about whether this job was a good fit for me, and God took me out of it. He also provided a new job at the company within two weeks. 

I see how fulfillment doesn't come from relationships or work, or from my own striving. I don't have to prove anything to God. He loves me in spite of me. I don't have to earn anything through Him. What I have to do is trust him and continually refocus myself on him. I have to surrender my life to Him. I really think that the Holy Spirit has worked in me with my pride, my depression, all of my sin. It's so easy for me to get stuck in my own head. I think so much of life is giving Him control rather than thinking, "Oh my gosh, what if I do this and all these other things happen?"  I take everything one day at a time. He is going to lead me in whatever happens. He's going to give me what I need each day.

It's not about me. It's not about what I've done--He has done everything. 

I know if I'm not where I'm supposed to be, God will put me someplace else. That's part of trusting. I know I'm not working for an organization; I'm working for God. That motivates me. To think you have no purpose where you currently are, well, I just don't believe that's true. God is going to use you wherever you are. 

How do I keep trusting God? I pray for faith! I'm never going to say, "Oh, yay, for suffering. I know this is going to be good for me in the end." I'm real about it: "Okay, I'm really struggling today, Lord." I bring anything and everything to Him, saying prayers throughout the day. That helps me to not feel anxious or worried.

I really like Psalm 34 right now, especially verse four:

“I sought the Lord, and He answered me
and delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant,
and their faces shall never be ashamed.”

He is delivering me from my fears. God is all ears and all eyes. He knows. He hasn't abandoned me, even in my suffering. 

God is telling me, I am here. I know. And now keep going. 

Water Instead Of Water

This week my dear friend Jess shared with me what she thinks of when she hears the word grace. She pointed me to this passage in missionary Amy Carmichael's book If, and it's become one of my favorite depictions of grace:

"Sometimes, when we are distressed by past failure and tormented by fear of failure in the future should we again set our faces toward Jerusalem, nothing helps so much as to give some familiar scripture time to enter into us and become part of our being.

The words 'Grace for grace' have been a help to me since I read in a little old book of Bishop Moule’s something that opened their meaning. (Till then I had not understood them.) He says 'for' means simply instead: 'The image is of a perpetual succession of supply; a displacement ever going on; ceaseless changes of need and demand.

'The picture before us is as of a river. Stand on its banks, and contemplate the flow of waters. A minutes passes, and another. Is it the same stream still? Yes. But is it the same water? No. The liquid mass that passed you a few seconds ago fills now another section of the channel; new water has displaced it, or if you please replaced it; water instead of water.

And so hour by hour, and year by year, and century by century, the process holds; one stream, other waters, living, not stagnant, because always in the great identity there is perpetual exchange. Grace takes the place of grace (and love takes the place of love); ever new, ever old, ever the same, ever fresh and young, for hour by hour, for year by year, through Christ.'"

Grace takes the place of grace, and love takes the place of love.

God is the rock; grace continually flows out of Him. We are the ones who change. I become fearful, anxious, worried, sad. I get mad at God. I question His plan and His goodness. My faith falters.

Yet He is there.

This passage reminds me of the story of the prodigal son. The father had utter compassion and care for his son, even after the son denied him and dishonored him in basically every way imaginable. Still the father forgives him, loves him, and celebrates his homecoming. I can't imagine being loved in such a radical way, but I am. You are, too. 

The water never stops flowing. The waves of grace never stop washing over us.