The Presence of God

In 2015, I was a fiery little evangelist. I talked to anyone and everyone about Jesus. I would see a picture of someone that id never met, feel lead to go to old navy and find that very person to talk to. I would prophesy over anyone who would let me. I saw miracles and breakthrough. I felt God speaking to me to dwell in the realm of the impossible. It was a great season of harvest. But then, it wasn’t.

I was hit with the most severe depression and psychosis I’d ever faced. There was a horrible voice in my head telling me to kill myself. It screamed at me. As I sat on my floor, I felt the tender yet strong voice of God tell me to get up. Every day was a fight just to go to class or events for ministry, just to get out of bed. And there was one song that I played over and over in that season. It’s a version of “King of My Heart” sung live by Steffany Gretzinger. (Boy, is that song anointed.) I remember stomping around my apartment all by myself declaring the goodness of God. I would cry and yell and do whatever I had to proclaim what I knew to be true to an atmosphere that was threatening to take my life.

Things didn’t get better immediately. There would be months of therapy, pills, a short stay at a psych ward. I had a lymphoma scare and thought I would lose my life to metastasized cancer. No matter how I reacted to my circumstances, he didn’t change. He always had a hand on me.

It’s been a year since that trying season. Things haven’t been perfect, but I’m the healthiest I’ve been in years. I’ve been telling my friends in awe, “I feel the presence of God again. He’s speaking to me.” I have experienced personal revival especially in the past two weeks.

I think as a charismatic/Pentecostal Christian, I have overcompensated for the fear of relying too much on “feelings” in my faith by staying away from fanaticism, but can I tell you, feeling the presence of God is unlike anything you will ever experience. I feel so thankful that I have been reawakened to his presence. My lover.

A prayer I have been praying is for the Lord to take me deeper than he did in 2015. I don’t want the same; I want more! More revival! More of his presence, plain and simple.

Tonight, I went to Big House (shout out to an incredible church!). In the beautiful chapel, with light streaming through the stained-glass windows, we sang “King of My Heart”. My heart came alight as I sang the line “you are good” to a good God. I realized that I am no longer in a season of death and despair. What Satan tried to take from me, namely, my life, he could not. God wouldn’t let him. God taught me how to fight and the greatest strategy, the one that got me through, was to declare his goodness. Gritty worship to a God that sticks with us through the junkyards of life.

One of my other favorite worship songs is “Lily’s Song(Praise the Lord)” by Kristene Dimarco (really the entire Mighty album). A line (taken from Psalm 118:17) she sings declares, “I will not die; I will live, and tell of the works of the Lord.” I scream that line every time. Because no matter how many times Satan has tried to take my life, I have lived by the grace of God. I will tell of his works all the days of my life.

I sang tonight, full of a joy that for once I actually fought for. Normally, God just graces me with joy in the midst of sorrow. But this time he taught me how to fight and the result is so much sweeter. I can look back, now above the tree-line, and see how far I’ve come up the mountain. I have a history with God and a story to tell. I'm not stopping now.

Find the Steffany Gretzinger version of "King of My Heart" here

Find Kristene Dimarco's "Lily's Song(Praise the Lord)" here

Psalm 118:17 (NASB) "I will not die, but live, and tell of the works of the LORD."

To Grandpa with love

We’d been out on the water since 6 am without any luck. I think the fish knew it was too hot and rightly stuck to the bottom of the lake where our bait didn’t reach. It was nearing noon, and I was ready to call it quits, and relax in the cool basement with some biscotti and a diet caffeine-free coke (the kind in the gold cans that I only like in Georgia). I was rounding up the gear and started up the rocky path to the house when my grandpa gets a sly look on his face and says, “Hold on, you’ve never used a fly rod before, have you?” I replied, “No.” “Run up there and grab one, we’re gonna try for just a bit longer.” My countenance (probably very noticeably) fell as I pictured more hours in the sun with no reward for my efforts. But, I obeyed and got the rod.

Grandpa took me straight across the lake to the other side. One of his many “spots.” If you could have anti-hope, that’s what I had for this little lesson. Grandpa was smoking a big cigar and asked me if I wanted a puff before we started. He handed it over to me with one end completely covered with saliva (ew!), but I still tried it. I don’t think I did it right. Anyways, he taught me the basics: flick of the wrist, a few moments pause, then out of the water again. Handing the rod over to me, Grandpa had a solemn look, as if he was passing down a sacred rite that oughtn’t be derided. I cast my first few poppers a bit awkwardly but soon caught the rhythm of it. It is fun, learning something new. It has a way of reminding you that there will always be some part of you that is a child who needs to learn.

As the sun settled at its peak, I was busy casting and recasting. ‘This was fun,’ I thought, ‘not too bad.’ Little did I expect that within seconds I would see the lure submerge in a wink to my grandfather’s elation. I remembered his admonition, “Wait a second, then strike.” And soon was reeling in my surprise, sunny day fish. And what do you know, it was a Sunny! I will absolutely never, and I mean never forget the shine of blue and silver as the little fish wriggled in my hand. (That’s right, it was an average size Sunny, but don’t you forget that I hold the Sullivan Lake record with a 23lb bass!) We didn’t have a camera to take a picture, but we didn’t need one. During the burst of adrenaline, I managed to paint mental portraits of this precious moment. And now I deposit them here, for my family, for my Grandpa.

Here’s to you, Grandpa.

Love,

Anna Jo

Four Things Cancer Taught Me

Hey, yall. Today officially marks four years since surgery, so im reflecting a big on what I have learned because of cancer.

a)    I learned to be less afraid of pain. Physical and emotional. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a masochist, but I think the ways that I was so very timid were shattered during that experience. Pain is a part of life, but just like this life, we must remember that it is very fleeting.

b)   I learned to laugh. I don’t know what it was about that experience, but I notice that for the first time in my life, I have really belly-laughed. It reminds me of proverbs 31 when it says the woman laughs in the face of the future. That’s real. With God I totally get that.

c)    I learned to cry. I cry like A LOT now. I find myself seeking to identify with people’s sufferings in a deeper way. I find myself crying at fireflies, movie trailers, little kids on bike. If you’ve seen the movie Collateral Beauty… collateral beauty.  Its profound and it’s like I’ve been given goggles as if to see for the very first time.

d)   I learned what joy really is. At a worship service a few years ago, I asked God what joy is. And the image that popped into my mind was of a moment in the hospital. It was early in the morning, somewhere between the midnight and six am vitals checks. I was in sooo much pain and my nurse walks in. I ask him if I can have more pain meds and he said no but smiled and left the room. A few minutes later he came back with a warm blanket to lay across my stomach. It was perfect and I smiled. God told me that joy is the smile on a hospital bed. All was not well with my circumstances, but all was well with me. Joy isn’t an emotion, it’s a state of being. Because of Jesus, eternity and what is true, I have joy.

      

This blog started because of that tumor and I wanted to thank you all for coming on this journey with me. You’ve seen the ups and the downs and I pray you’ve been blessed. Let me know what you’ve learned because of trying times. Much love, Anna

Spin, or a Poem about Mania

Spin, or a Poem about Mania

Spin, Spin, Spin--

They picked me up and set me spinning;
now I cannot stop.

"Look at you go! Look at you go!"

Can they see me coming apart at the seams?

This euphoria is a prison of falsehood.

Oh, someone save me! Who will deliver me from this body of death?¹

٭٭٭٭

Spin... Spin...... Spin--Crash!

I've hit the wall.

Now I lay here on my side.

The mesmerized crowd disappears.

I am alone.

Who will deliver me from this body of death?

 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am... all come and go as sleep evades me.

My body starts to fail under the overexertion. I need help; can anyone help me?

I feel barren. My mind feels like a dust bowl. Hot tears roll down my face. 

٭٭٭٭

I play some spontaneous worship music, and I feel

the cool water of his presence wash through my brain.

"Send out your light and your truth; let them lead me;

let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling!

Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my

exceeding joy, and I will praise you with the lyre, 

O God, my God.

Why are you downcast, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

my salvation and my God." 

¹Romans 7:24-25-"Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from

this body of death? Thanks be to God through Christ Jesus our Lord!..."

 ²Psalm 43:3-5

If you or a loved one suffers with a mental illness, I am so sorry. I wish I could take everyone of you by the hands, look you in the eyes, and tell you how loved and not alone you are. For more information and resources on this pervasive issue, please visit the sight of or contact the National Alliance on Mental Illness.

Much love,

Anna Jo

everlasting arms

***This post was NOT edited for grammatical correctness. Or even to sound good. Sorry. This is my brain plopped on paper.

This summer I started having night sweats, sporadically. Somethimes worse than others. Which NEVER happens to me. I just tucked it away in my little notes folder on my iphone. Don’t worry, im not a hypochondriac. I just always go blank when my doctors ask me my symptoms. I tuck them away and then tell them to my oncologist every six months. No biggie. So anyways when I came home from Portland, I had a bad sinus and ear infection. I also felt horrible. Like barely get out of bed for a week bad. So I went to my primary care (shout out patient first) and the lady said all my lymph nodes were swollen. She told me I needed to see my oncologist, like,now. I said I had an appt on the 14^th of December (it was now end of nov.) she said I needed to get in sooner. A little panic. Then she said to go thru the er if I had to. I asked if i was being dramatic for coming in and she said no. she said, after all the things she’d checked and knowing my history, malignance could be the cause. Just fyi, doctors don’t say that all willy nilly. They only do if they really have to. So, a bit of panic. But this will all just be a big misunderstanding and ill soar thru it with flying faith colors like all the other times.

So get appt for that Monday. My original onc is back from asia (military hospital, you know). She feels them all says they’re swollen but also that im super skinny. She gets some blood work done and gets a chest xray. “it could be lymphoma” she says. Not dramatically. Just there. And she keeps my regular 6 mos appt to get abdominal mri that happened to fall on the 6^th of December. So we get all the things done. Talk to insurance people. Long day at the hospital. I’m waiting by a young wife whose husband is getting xrayed and biopsied for cancer. She’s all teary, her world seems to be coming apart before her eyes (literally. They were wheeling him back and forth in front of us. To xray, to biopsy. Etc.) I catch eyes with him. He had this beautiful radiant confidence. I used to have that with all this. But now im just tired. Go home. Put on my parka and uggs and big winter scarf and curl up in bed. (all that bc im really cold). Wait on call wait on call wait on call. Still feel horrible physically, but less so. And I was taking heart because no news is good news in the medical world. If there was something seriously wrong I would have been back in that hospital by that night. But still, wanted to get the all clear.

Doc finally calls. She doesn’t want to move forward with biopsy. She says scans clear. 

But that I do have mono. (I already had it, but yeah, cause it’s a virus you can get it again). 

So im here. Im still in pain (less). And I try to be strong, but can I tell you something?

 Im not. Im not strong or brave. God is. Im not. And this whole ordeal showed me that I really

 am scared that the cancer will come back. And ive read case studies on this type of carcinoma. 

(again, not a hypochondriac, just curious about what grew inside of me for months and months)

 its not good when it comes back. Anyways, I am scared. I cant be whipped back and forth like 

this. I feel like my life gets torn at the seams from all the spinning. But I read an interesting take 

on the word “compels/controls/constraineth” in 2 cor. 5:14… “For the love of Christ controls us,

 because we have concluded this: that one died for all, therefore all have died…” I have always read this and studied this
in terms of being moved and compelled by the love of God to serve and live out
a godly life. But Kelly Minter wrote this phrase about it… “sense the love of
jesus constraining you, actually holding you together” and then the Deuteronomy
33:27 everlasting arms have kept coming up… “The eternal God is your dwelling
place, and underneath are the everlasting arms. And he thrust out the enemy
before you and said, ‘Destroy.’” I went to chatbible to study the word
translated at control (ESV) in 2 cor. 5:14. One of the translations for the
greek word sunecho is this: “1) to
hold together 1a) any whole, lest it fall to pieces or something fall away from
it.” I don’t want to take this scripture out of context. Im no theologian nor
am I an expert on biblical greek. But for a moment, I needed to see this picture.
My life seemingly spinning out of control but God not letting one piece of me
fall away. I don’t know. Cool water flowed over me. Through me. It will be
okay. Im still in pain, and perhaps this fear will loom over me the rest of my
life. And I wont ignore it, and I wont deny that it scares me. But I will rest.
The everlasting arms aren’t going anywhere.

winter and babies

Sometimes, I’m taken back to memories of hospitals. The weirdest things bring my mind back. Often it’s the smell of certain types of handsoaps. I have most of my classes in Mcbryde(VT) and the hand soap there smells like hospital disinfectant. It is oddly comforting because it always reminded me of the why. Why I should give everything to Jesus. Something that period of my life taught me but I often forget. Other times, I hear a loud noise and I weep. I can’t help but cry as I type this. Motorcycles do it to me a lot.  My friends don’t really know what to do when I start crying randomly. I wouldn’t either. I’m instantly back in a waiting room or in a hospital bed, bruises up my hands and arms from IVs. And I can feel the ghost of pain. I’m not scared of it. It just halts me for a moment. I have to feel it. The other night, it was the scattegories buzzer that reminded me of all the noises a hospital room makes. People tell me that I stare vacantly a lot. I do. I’m just remembering. But sometimes, I can’t stop crying. Because I think of all the children whose life this actually is. Year in and year out. Pain, noise, fluorescent lights, uncertainty. I remember the day we found the tumor at chkd, we were waiting in a small room when a mom brought her two, twin babies in. They weren’t more than three years old. In wheel chairs. And one of the brothers started screaming and crying. It was horrible. Horrible. I couldn’t do anything because I was whisked away to the big hospital. I have never forgotten that boy. I never want a child to feel that way. I would do it for them if I could. I cant.

I know I’m supposed to say something that turns this post around. Something about Jesus. I know God is still good. Suffering, pain, these are not God’s will. But sometimes I don’t think we need to promote sweet-sounding Christian platitudes when we’re sad. We can acknowledge the pain without excusing it.

Winter is my favorite season. People look at me funny when I say that. I just spent my first winter in the mountains. I love the bitter cold, the long nights. To me, all the hope is in winter. Once December 21 rolls around, we know the days get longer and longer. We anticipate what the glory of spring will hold. I like the barrenness of winter because we get to really see. What is worth it. What do we need. And what is the actual longing of our hearts. I can’t take the pain for every child in this world. But Jesus did do something profoundly more impactful and loving. He took the eternal pain. The Dayspring is coming. There is an eternal dawn. Praise him.

mental health and christianity

I don’t know. I don’t know a lot about a lot. I’ve been thinking about how we think we know a lot about a lot. But I think even the wisest people… still don’t know. The rich, deep mystery into which we were born—a fallen cosmos—well… there are a lot of things we just don’t know. We can explain some mechanical functions of the universe—social laws, natural laws… but we can’t fully understand the implications, the why, the how, of original sin and redemption and the working out of our salvation. It is sometimes more “great, availing mystery” than we’d like it to be.

C.S. Lewis had some thoughts on this. In The Great Divorce, he writes:

“Ye cannot in your present state understand eternity… That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for this,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backward and turn even that agony into a glory... The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of heaven… And that is why the Blessed will say, ‘We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven.’”

One thing I long to ask God about is the sometimes inexplicable madness of our minds. Mental health. I think you could read every secular source on the topic, sit under the most spiritually adept theologian, and still not come close to comprehending the complexities of sin and nature and truth and forgiveness. 42¹ just doesn’t cut it. And that’s okay. This is meant to be no polemic against the noble pursuit of understanding, healing, loving… The compelling to attain to the full stature of Christ Jesus must go on! We must forge ahead into the deepest, darkest questions of the universe in Spirit and in truth. But this is to you who feel like you are going insane. Do not lose the hope and joy of your salvation because you do not fit into the scholar’s boxes or the theologian’s parapets. And if you have not accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, your Love, do not let this keep you from him.

Mental health, the physical and the soulish, we will never fully understand while we labor in the pangs of childbirth. That’s okay. Pray. Seek medical attention. Lean not on your own understanding. It’s okay if you still don’t understand. I don’t. But I still believe in the goodness, the goodness, of the Lord. And one day, in the near and coming future, we will see his face and have the answer to all we never knew.

¹ In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything