limits.

“Lord, grant me the courage to feel, to pay attention, and then to wait on You.  You know that everything in me resists limits, humility, and the cross.”

– Peter Scazzero, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality

 

These words sum up the struggle of this summer: being frustrated with my limits.

Lots of props are stripped away. Normal routine, the comforts of cooking and baking, a clean house, space, natural light, predictability, alone time, hosting friends and family, control over my environment. I’m not a person who likes perpetual busyness — when I’m over-busy, I don’t have time to sit and reflect on my inner state and commune with God — and yet we’ve been very busy. Both for the renovation itself, and also to get out of the house as much as possible because the house is not a fun place to be right now.

I realize afresh how much I ache to create a peaceful, safe haven for my family and for other people. I love to welcome, to serve, to make people feel comfortable; David and the kids first of all. I like washing dishes, for goodness’ sake. And I can’t do that right now. Or at least I can’t in the way I want to.

 

 

I find it humiliating that mess and disorder and stimulation (noise, dust, chemical smells) affect me so much — more than other people, it seems. I bemoan the fact that I can’t just chill out and be more laid back about it all.

In getting upset and humiliated though, I’ve made everything worse. Many days I haven’t followed my own advice in the Kitchen Renovation Manifesto. Instead, I’ve stressed and I’ve complained.

In Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, which I’m re-reading this month, Peter Scazzero says that one of the hardest losses for us to grieve is our limitations. I find this fascinating. We — especially Americans — want to believe we’re limitless, that everything’s possible. But that’s a lie. We can’t do anything or be anything we want. We all have limits.

Part of becoming a mature, whole person is owning our limits, grieving them well, then accepting the people God created us to be.

 

 

Scazzero points out that a sure sign that we’re not grieving our losses well is that we “leak” emotions. When we don’t stop and pay attention to our feelings, name them and own them before God, but instead deny, rationalize, or stuff them, they begin to leak out everywhere. In impatience, passive-aggressive behavior, an ongoing low-level irritation with people and life, sarcasm, a harsh tone of voice, and giving the “silent treatment.”

This is how deep our self-deception is — we convince ourselves that we’re controlling and managing our emotions our way — but really the only person we’re fooling is ourselves.

If you’re like me, the minute you feel these uncomfortable, scary emotions bubbling up, you distract yourself. Through coffee, a glass of wine, watching shows, texting friends, shopping. My current distraction of choice is Pinterest. I rationalize it by saying that I need to be researching, to be choosing the things we need for the kitchen. And that’s true in a way. But more and more I find myself grabbing my phone and surfing Pinterest the moment I feel stressed. I just want something that will make these uncomfortable feelings go away.

 

 

But by numbing the feelings, by not stopping to pay attention and to offer them to God, I’m cutting off the very life and peace He wants to give me.

I am limited, but He is limitless. He possesses everything I need for life and godliness and joy in a stressful summer. He wants to pour these gifts out into my life. But I choose my favorite false gods instead. I want the easy path of instant gratification rather than real, abiding joy.

I want to walk by sight, not by faith.

Well, I can’t have both. I can’t have distraction and numbing and momentary relief, and have God’s limitless resources.

So this morning I’m surrendering. I’m agreeing with Him about my emotions and my limitations. I’m making the choice to accept my limits.

I accept that this summer is hard for me, that I feel out of sorts and out of control all the time. And really tired. And that those are feelings I don’t enjoy. Not at all.

David kindly pointed out that all the things that make this summer hard are the things he loves about me: I’m good at order and creating a clean, cozy atmosphere, and cooking delicious food.

 

 

I never thought about it that way.

Wanting to create a beautiful home gives me a vision for the feeling I want in our new rooms. My over-sensitivity to stimulation is part of being a creative person, emotionally in tune with myself and other people. Being organized makes me crazy in this cramped, dark, messy house, but it also enables me to translate my vision into reality — to systematically make decisions and furnish the new kitchen and dining space even in a chaotic environment.

Often I see a limit and spend all my energy fighting to defy it, rather than accepting with gratitude the corresponding strengths God’s given me, and choosing to submit both strengths and limits to Him, to use for His glory. Accepting my limits humbles me and makes me dependent on Him. When I’m weak, He is strong.

What about you?

Are you accepting your limits? Are you grieving your losses well, or are you “leaking”? Are you thanking God for your strengths?

I believe that as you and I learn to wrestle with these questions and daily surrender our limits and strengths to God, we’ll experience greater freedom and joy than we thought possible.