Arise, Oh Sleeper

I’ve been off of Facebook since the beginning of Lent. Let me tell you, it was an experience.

Right before the beginning of the Lenten season, I felt this incredible pull to get off of social media and spend 40 days fasting from the thing that brought me the most anxiety; Facebook. Whether we want to admit it or not, we are constantly comparing ourselves to the curated content we see on social media day in and day out. For me, it was the pressure to make sure the image I was putting out online showed nothing but thriving in my business, life, and journey with Atticus. Any time I felt like I was struggling, it seemed like I couldn’t live in those feelings because the pressure to have it all together made me feel like I was doing things incredibly wrong. If I had a rough day with Atticus, it was because I wasn’t appreciating what we’ve already been through and was instead wanting something different. If I was stressed about being a business owner, it was because I didn’t appreciate the blessings we’ve been able to have. There was always something in the back of my mind saying, “You shouldn’t be feeling this way. You’re not faithful enough.” So right before Lent started, I heard God clearly say, “That’s enough.” So that was enough and I disabled my account for 40 days.

At first, it didn’t seem like Facebook was really the problem. I mean, how much can one app on a phone do, right? But then I noticed my anxiety started to decrease almost immediately. I wasn’t escaping to my phone when things started feeling heavy. And then I noticed how much of my free time was spent absorbing information I had no business taking in. I felt happy, lighter, and disconnected from the things that brought me so much stress. In a way, I felt like I had broken an unhealthy bond I didn’t realize I had in the first place. I started enjoying all the things we were doing with Atticus without the pressure of constantly needing it to be perfect. After about 3 days, I started to wonder why I cared in the first place. Social media is a great way of connecting with friends and family, but it is also a great burden when we feel the need to always be in the spotlight of others’ lives. For me, I really didn’t realize how much pressure I put on myself whenever I opened the app; even when I had nothing to share. I also started to see how information started to affect my mental well-being. It’s crazy how a small app on your phone can sink its claws in and begin to manipulate your happiness whether you realize it’s happening or not. It really was enough, and I am so thankful for the 40 day break.

I spent a lot of time wondering what I would do when Lent was over, and whether or not I would return to Facebook in the first place. I mean, the Millennial generation spent the first half of our lives without technology and learned how to make connections and friendships without the assistance of Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. So why was it a big deal in the first place? It’s because I allowed it to become a big deal, and it turned into something I really wish it hadn’t; a platform for comparison, a distraction from my family, and a roadblock with my faith I didn’t realize was there in the first place. The 40 day season of Lent is designed to have us focus on sacrifice (fasting), prayer and alms, or the giving of your time and energy to serve others like Christ served humanity when he walked the earth. So for 40 days, I had no choice but to examine where I was in those three categories and really understand how I was using my time when not on my phone. It was challenging at first, but then incredibly liberating after about a week. I was able to focus on prayer when I felt the need to re-download Facebook to my phone and have discussions with God about why I was taking a break from Facebook in the first place, and how to replace that time with what was going on around me in my day to day life. The biggest lesson I learned is that we are often so distracted by escaping to our phones because life gets hard, and Facebook and other social media apps allow us to mentally check out for a bit. However, if you don’t keep yourself in check, you’ll find yourself escaping to your phone and totally missing out on what’s going on around you. It’s a thief of time, which turns into a thief of happiness. I was missing out on so much time with my son, but it didn’t hit me until I was rocking him to sleep in his nursery without scrolling on my phone. I wasn’t looking at endless pictures of others wishing I could be travelling, wishing I could be in another place, wishing I could be doing (insert whatever). I was noticing the sounds of his breathing while he was falling asleep. I was hearing the stillness of the moment sitting in his glider, cuddled closely to him and feeling his heartbeat. I could hear the animals in my house running around, I could hear the creaks in the walls of my historic house, I could hear my neighbor outside milling about in his yard. I could hear without distraction. I felt myself getting closer to my son, thankful for these uninterrupted moments with him where he was safe in my arms while the world went on around us. I was literally feeling myself breathe peacefully, thankful for a few moments without anxiety or stress because in that moment I was a mom rocking her son. I wasn’t wishing to be somewhere else and missing the moment in front of me.

Our world today is an incredibly broken place. There is so much hatred and fear, there are so many strong opinions flying around. The news is a daily reminder about how tragic the world is, and how far we have dissolved into drawing hard and fast lines around people because of their beliefs, looks, desires and lifestyles. We are so distracted by what faction we fall into; whether it’s political, religious or the like. We are constantly surrounded by information telling us who we should be, how we should act if we fall into one of these camps, and how we’re supposed to treat people because of the beliefs we hold in our heart. My friends, Facebook and Instagram are a breeding ground of hatefulness that we were never supposed to fall into. We have free and open access to put our thoughts into words and send them out through a keyboard without having to look at the faces of those they affect. With a few simple keys, we can push those we thought were closes to us far away from us because of what we choose to share. We don’t have to look at a person when we send something out through a keyboard. To us, that person is a faceless human on the other end of a screen. We don’t have to be held to the same level of responsibility when we’re looking another person in the eye as we share content through our apps. Our beliefs are freely thrown around without caring how they affect those who read them on the other end of that post. Everyone is anonymous. And everyone is affected by what we’re sharing. We lose sight of the simplest command Jesus had for us.

“ So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other.” John 13:34

It’s easy to forget this simple commandment when we’re not being held responsible for the words we type on a cell phone.

I spent a lot of time in prayer about the things that give me the greatest anxiety during this time as well. In all reality, I was forced to deal with the fears I’ve developed since becoming a mother; especially the mother of a son with a chronic illness. It’s hard enough being a mom, but when you’re also raising a child that is medically different than most people, that fear is increased tenfold and your mind becomes your worst enemy. Having the ability to escape into a digital freedom gave me time to basically ignore these fears and scroll them away. However, with 40 days of being unable to escape, I had no choice but to confront them. When you decide to take control of your fears and finally talk to God about them without distractions, it becomes one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. I had no choice, I had to talk to God about my fears for Atticus. I had to confront the reality that he might need surgery in the fall. I had to give voice to my concern about how his peers would treat him; would he be made fun of? Would the world destroy his soft heart? Would he get to the point where he was so depressed about his condition there would be nothing I could do to help? Is he safe going to school? How can I protect him from this world without shutting him off from the beautiful things it also has to offer? And why would God bring my son into a broken, terrifying world in the first place then give him a condition that will make his life that much harder? All of these thoughts that went unnoticed during my mindless scrolling throughout the day were suddenly at the forefront of my mind with no way of escaping or pretending they weren’t real. I found myself almost panicking because I had spent so much of my time over the last few months pushing them down into the depths of my mind to “deal with another day,” and then the “other day” was right in front of me and I had no way out. My mind felt like a prison that had no escape. It was overwhelming, terrifying and incredibly sad. I just wanted to do everything in my power to protect my boy without accidentally creating a fear in him he had no business carrying with him. It felt like such a heavy burden to carry.

But that is when the magic of being truly in God’s presence started to ease those fears. Day after day, I was forced to acknowledge these fears and start to dissect them with God one at a time. Starting with my son’s place in this world. I remember listening to a sermon one day about how Jesus healed a man born blind in John chapter 9. One verse in particular stuck out to me, and it is a verse I have written about before. However, this time it took on new meaning. Jesus and his disciples are walking together and they encounter a man who was born blind. One of his disciples asks him, “why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents’ sins?” (John 9:2). I’ve often felt responsibility for Atticus’ diagnosis. Through years of toxic preaching from my childhood, when we first received his diagnosis, I automatically assumed it was punishment from something I had done in my past that my son had to carry. For the longest time, I felt like his diagnosis was the result of my lack of faith or a decision I made that God had to “punish” because of my inability to remain faithful to him. However, through this Lenten season I have realized that is just not how God works. When you continue reading, Jesus gives a beautiful response to his disciples about this man’s condition and how he intends to use it.

3 “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him. 4 We must quickly carry out the tasks assigned us by the one who sent us.[a] The night is coming, and then no one can work. 5 But while I am here in the world, I am the light of the world.”

Our world is broken. Our world is scary. However, God redeems the fear. Jesus shows that in his response to this man by stepping out and healing him on a Sabbath day. Jesus wasn’t supposed to do this because it was a day of rest; a rule he was supposed to follow that had real consequences. Jesus did this in radical response to the humanistic rules he was supposed to follow. God stepped outside of those boundaries and boxes humans set up, and did something miraculous. He healed a man in spite of the Sabbath day. Jesus can work beyond the boundaries we set around ourselves and each other. My son’s condition is to show people how God can work beyond the limitations of a diagnosis. My son was created to show the world our God works beyond the rules humans set out. Jesus works beyond the groups we’re “supposed” to belong to. God works outside of human limitations. I had to sit with that for a very, very long time.

I remember one day I was praying over these fears. I remember asking God to explain to me how to take comfort in him knowing all of these thoughts were running through my head with no answer as to how to make them feel better. I began listening to a podcast from Father Mike Schmitz where he was talking about the importance of the cross and how that shows the true character of God. He described that our world is a broken, scary place, yes. However, what the cross represents is that God recognizes that pain and chose to step down into humanity and redeem our pain. He began explaining the radical decision of God to die on the cross as a criminal shows that God knows exactly what is happening on the earth each and every day. He knows our life, our pain, our sorrow. He lived through anxiety, separation, frustration, and fear of the unknown even though he was fully God. He chose to take on our human struggles, and because of that God knows exactly what pain feels like. However, the cross shows that God can and will redeem our pain. By dying on the cross and resurrecting fully alive, God has taken that pain and shows he can do something with it. No, he doesn’t on-purpose plan our suffering. But he knows how to use it to bring us life. He showed that by giving this man sight. The world placed the blame on the man’s parents as punishment for their actions. Jesus said this man’s condition could be used to show how God can redeem pain by giving him sight and life. My son doesn’t “suffer” from Spina Bifida. My son has Spina Bifida. My God uses his condition daily for us to tell others about the incredible things Atticus can do. My God uses his condition daily to remind me that his diagnosis was intended to bring guilt, but it has been the biggest blessing of our lives. My son doesn’t suffer. My son thrives. God gave him sight. I have no reason to fear for his future.

Social media is a great tool for business and connection, but it also creates judgment. Without realizing it, we can simply sit and put commentary on another’s life choices without them ever knowing. Over this season of Lent, I also realized the people of Jesus’ time probably did the same thing just in a different way. They judged the way another acted, or the way they followed the rules of their religion. They struggled with hate, they struggled with differences, and they definitely got wrapped up in the should and shouldn’t of how they were supposed to act. Then Jesus arrived and began making everyone uncomfortable with his actions, so much that he was condemned as a radical and died on the cross because of it. Jesus’ actions made people so uncomfortable they had to kill him to make it stop. In a way, that’s exactly where we are today. I didn’t realize at the time, but the way I saw others on social media started affecting how I treated them in person when they were face to face with me. Taking away that perception gave me the ability to start seeing people as humans with real struggles, feelings, goals and dreams. In a way, as trite as it sounds I started realizing we were all the same inside; wanting love an acceptance. It helped me start to see who people were, not just the curated versions we see online. It’s easy to push others away when we see something we disagree with on a post on Instagram. It’s an entirely different thing to do that when you’re face to face with that person. You see, we want to have reasons to push others away because they don’t believe the same things we do, or they vote a different way than we believe is right. But one thing I realized over this season is none of that matters. Who a person is on the inside is enough. God doesn’t want us at our very best polished versions. What is the point of faith if we have to put checkmarks in the boxes of personal ideology, political beliefs and social ideas? Didn’t Jesus tell the robber beside him on the cross that he would be in paradise with him that day? Jesus didn’t tell him he had to get himself “right” before he was accepted. Jesus and that man were living their worst day together. They were naked, bruised, bleeding, in excruciating pain and being humiliated in front of a huge group of people. That man was given his reward because of his faith, not because he voted the right way, hated the right things, or put boundaries around the right people. Jesus saw him at his very worst and still accepted him as he was; bruised, broken, in pain and dying. Yet Jesus saw he was enough. He told him he was enough. My friends, we are enough as we are. These curated versions we project to others do nothing but create divisions around us when the reality of the situation is we are ALL the robber on the cross. We all have baggage we carry with us daily; some of it more heavy than others. We’re all trying to do the best we can and live a life we think is life giving. We all walk our own valleys and celebrate on our own mountain tops, and we all have experienced God in ways that are both similar and different. So why do we spend so much time worrying about what others are doing or posting? My gosh, isn’t life hard enough as it is without that external pressure to be a certain way? Jesus calls us as we are. Through our faith, he begins to turn us into who we were designed to be. I fully believe he wants us with all our baggage, darkness and pain so he can show us just how he plans to use that for incredible things. So why spend so much time scrolling and judging when the people around us are literally carrying loads that are just as heavy? It makes absolutely no sense.

The biggest theme I carried away from this season is that I was very much asleep to certain things in my life. I was asleep to the people around me, God’s incredible power, and the hold comparing myself to others created on my heart and mind. I love this passage from the Ancient Homily for Holy Saturday because it perfectly describes what God is asking all of us to do.

“I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.”

I’m so thankful Lent ends on the weekend of Easter because it is a great reminder that we are not prisoners of this world and the divisions it creates. We are called to be different because Jesus was different. We are called to be like Jesus and his uncomfortable parts. We are called to walk with him and be so radically different than the world it makes others uncomfortable; not because we hate the right things but because we love others so radically different it makes others wonder what in the world is going on. One thing I have learned over this 40 day fast is that to have faith like Jesus commands will take you to places you did not want to go. It will make you come face to face with parts of this world that will make your stomach sick and will keep you up at night, but at the same time will give you a peace that you have never experienced before. “…for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.” When God rose from the grave he didn’t do it to create a division between “us and them.” He did it to show there is literally nothing in the world you can do to keep the love of God away from you. He rose to show us that pain and suffering will be parts of our lives for as long as we are here. But his rising redeems that pain because he lived through it, too. The world will do everything in its power to divide us and create camps we have to belong to. But the cross is open for everyone, regardless. Regardless.

I don’t know what the future will hold for me, but I know who is walking with me. I don’t know how my relationship with social media will evolve, but I do know it will not have the control over my happiness like it did before. I especially don’t know what the future will be like for Atticus, but I also know I don’t have to fear it anymore because I know who is holding my son’s future. It’s the same one who is holding yours, and who is asking you to examine the boxes you’ve put yourself in just like the ones I had 40 days ago. This world is difficult and terrifying. I feel the fear each day. But one thing I am coming out of this 40 day season with is an understanding that we do not walk this path alone. It’s the same path Jesus walked on the way to his cross. But that path has created the ability for us to face the coming future with confidence. Because just like his Friday, our Sunday is coming. If we only allow ourselves to let God walk that path with us.

Happy Easter, friends. Get off of Facebook for a little bit and look at the world around you. We’ve got so many incredible things to be thankful for.