Who, me? Anxious?

They finally called me from the Emergency Room waiting area into another room where they took my vital signs and asked me questions.  It happened last summer, in July.  

What are your symptoms, exactly?

"My heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest.  I've experienced sharp pain below the left side of my rib cage, in front and in back, for some days.  Then this pounding heart.  When I called my doctor, she said I was to come here."

Your blood pressure and all other vital signs are good.  Have you been experiencing any anxiety lately?  Do you have any history of panic attacks?

 "Who, me?  Never!"

Is there anything that might be causing you undue stress?

"No. Oh...you mean like a world-wide pandemic?"

Yes.  Something like that.  

After a few more tests, I left and came home.

The next day I saw my doctor, who asked me a lot of the same questions.  She assured me that all the tests were fine, and that my symptoms were the typical consequence of unrelieved stress.  We have this fight-or-flight reaction to danger, but there is nowhere to run from this pandemic and the results of the shut-down.  It is a constant "threat" or "danger" and our bodies react physiologically with symptoms such as mine.  She ordered an ultrasound for the next day to check out the source of my pain.

At the conclusion of the very thorough ultrasound, they asked if I wanted to wait for the results.  YES.  Twenty minutes later, they handed me a sheet of paper with the one word pronouncement: negative.  Nothing.  Nada.  I was fine.

Deep breaths.  Relief.  Feeling rather foolish.  Humbled. So, now what?  

After my yearly physical exam the following month, here's what I've come away with from this whole experience, and what I now tell myself:

1)  Remember that you are susceptible to anything that anyone else is, including anxiety and stress.  It's not evidence of weakness, but of being human.  What I need to learn is how to handle it.

2) When suspicious symptoms arise, call the doctor FIRST.  Do not get on WebMD or do some other search of the causes of those symptoms.  I was convinced I had several serious diseases after I looked up the possible causes of my pains.  That's what caused the anxiety that made my heart pound.  Then those symptoms made me more scared and anxious.  So my heart beat harder. Ad infinitum.

3) Follow doctor's orders re: diet, exercise, testing, etc.  My doctor had me cut out caffeine--including chocolate--and sugar.  I do feel better and am sleeping well.

4) When the symptoms occur--and they sometimes do--I tell myself "You are fine."  I take deep breaths. I quote Philippians 4:6-7 to myself, then pray that God will calm my heart and give me His peace that passes understanding. And so far, He has. But it's because I had the symptoms checked out and know that I really am fine.

World-wide pandemics are not new, but they are new to us, to those of us who are alive now.  The Spanish Flu epidemic was 103 years ago. We've all read about the bubonic plague that occurred in the Middle Ages.  

What was true in those times and is true now is this:

"The LORD reigns; he is robed in majesty; the LORD is robed; he has put on strength as his belt. Yes, the world is established; it shall never be moved.

Your throne is established from of old; you are from everlasting." (Psalm 93:1-2 ESV)

The Lord is Sovereign, and He is Good. But we live in a fallen world that has disease and death. Indeed, something is going to get everyone; none of us gets out of here alive.  But as it turns out, my battle with anxiety--those pains and pounding heart--aren't going to get me.  At least, not yet. And I look with hope and anticipation to the day when the Lord Jesus will make all things right and disease and death will be no more.

Greatest Help During a Pandemic

Blogs, articles, videos and news reports constantly fill my screen and beg for my attention during this covid-19 pandemic.  But only one thing has been truly helpful to me and I pass that along now:

Read the Bible.

Reflections on Turning Sixty-Five

When you're young, you can't imagine that you'll ever turn sixty-five.  For me in 1969 at age fifteen, the year of Apollo 11 and Woodstock, even the year 2000 seemed impossibly far away.  Why, in that year, I'd be turning 46!  I'd be as old as my MOTHER.  It was so far away I couldn't imagine ever getting there.

But I'm so grateful that I reached not only the year 2000 but 2019.  So many of our dear friends and family have died before reaching 65.  Every day is a gift.

Here are a few things for which my appreciation has deepened over the years:

A long marriage.  There were no divorces on either side of our family when I was growing up, so I took for granted that marriage was "'til death do us part."  Now that we have navigated through 45 years ourselves, and have seen the shipwreck of so many marriages of people close to us, I know how precious and rare is a long, happy marriage. Inside jokes, shared memories, shoulder-to-shoulder work in ministry, accomplished goals, heartbreaking disappointments, lifelong friends, and ever-sweetening romance...these knit our souls together, stronger with every passing year.  And even as age and gravity take their toll on our physical appearance, nothing changes the way we see each other.  In my eyes, Bill is that young man I married, and he always will be.

A healthy church.  Over the years we've belonged to wonderful churches.  They have been like our family as we have moved around the country.  They have taught us the gospel of grace, the beauty of Christ, the riches of God's Word, the privilege of worship and the joy of service.  Our current church is a place where the leaders are servants, the people are loving, gossip is rare and community is real.

A loving family.  What defines "a loving family" to me is one that continues to love unconditionally even when its members disagree with each other, disapprove of each other's behavior, hold different worldviews, disbelieve each other's faith, drive each other crazy and forgive when they hurt one another--purposefully or not.  I married into such a family and will be eternally grateful for that.

Beneficial work to do.  Work that is good work benefits the worker and others.  I'm aware as I rise on any given morning that someone has worked to make the device that wakes me up, the draperies I pull back to let in the sun, the clothes I put on my back, the coffee maker and the coffee for my first cup, and printed the Bible for my daily reading.  Someone has worked to pick up our curbside trash and deliver our paper.  I get the privilege and benefit of working, too--of making my bed and doing the laundry, of washing the dishes, preparing supper, studying to teach a Sunday school lesson, and teaching piano.

Good health. Each new day can bring the unexpected diagnosis, accident or fall.  So not having to take any medication--sleeping and feeling well--is great at any age, and especially at 65!  I've survived 15 automobile accidents and 2 bouts of malignant melanoma.  If there are guardian angels, mine must be exhausted by now.

Real friends. These are God's therapists for my soul.  With them I laugh hard, talk long, play freely and cry unashamedly.  I tell them my prayer requests and they actually pray.  They stick with me when I'm being an idiot. 

Here are a few resolutions I am hoping to keep going forward:  Mary Beth...

Don't give advice or opinions unless someone asks for them.  Yes, you think your observations and experience might be helpful.  But no one really wants to hear them.  So keep quiet about such things unless and until asked.  What people really need is a listening ear, an encouraging word, and a warm hug.  Offer those things.

Spend more time developing relationships and fostering community.  You may be a "3wing2,", an "ENFJ," and an "achiever-activator," but building a friendship is an accomplishment, too.

Never stop learning.  Remain curious.  Always be formulating the follow-up question.

Don't let fear become a controlling or a motivating factor in your life.  "Perfect love casts out fear."  Keep taking risks.  Be willing to fail.  You saw fear limit your parents tremendously in their later years.  Lord, help me love and trust you for however many more years you have for me.

Why Not Give Sunday Evening Worship a Try?

Soon after my husband and I moved back to St. Louis from Philadelphia and rejoined Covenant Presbyterian Church, we got a call from a friend inviting us to join a new supper club that she and her husband were forming.  After she described it to me, I asked when it would meet.  

“On Sunday evenings,” she replied.  

“Do you mean you’ll have it after the evening worship services?” I asked.  

“Well, no, Mary Beth…you know, we’re not under the Law anymore; we’re under grace.  You don’t have to attend your Sunday evening worship service.”  

“Oh,” I said, “I know I am free to miss it—but why would I want to? These are the people that have stood with me through the hardest times of my life.  It’s the most wonderful way to end the Lord’s Day, being with them and worshiping together.  Thank you for your gracious invitation—but we would just miss too much if we intentionally missed evening church once a month.” 

It was clear that my answer surprised my friend, but it impressed her, too.  It piqued her interest to the point that she and her family visited our church for a while, just to see what caused me to love it and its people so much. (They continued to hunt for a church home and ended up in the church where she grew up—perhaps that’s where she found her people as well.)

My answer also caused me to reflect on why attending Sunday evening worship is the habit of our lives.  Even before we met, both my husband and I had the habit of regular Sunday evening worship attendance.  So, when we married, it was only natural that the habit would continue, as it has to this day, 42 years later.

One reason why both of us attended evening worship as single young people was the fact that we were both relatively new Christians and had a hunger for learning the Bible and being with other believers.  Both of us really liked our pastors (before we met we belonged to different churches in different denominations) and their preaching.  Both of us had made good friends at our churches that we enjoyed being with during and after the evening services.  I especially loved our elderly Scottish assistant pastor who led the hymn singing with passion and a heavy brogue!  For both of our congregations, the evening service was simply an important part of the life of the community.  And as typical singles, we liked being out and about with other people rather than being home alone.

After we got married, we received more teaching about the Sabbath principle of observing the Lord’s Day.  When George Robertson was preaching through the Psalms, he showed us how Psalm 92 refers to evening worship.  The introduction to the psalm says “A psalm. A song. For the Sabbath day.” And the first two verses say, 

It is good to praise the LORD and make music to your name, O Most High,

to proclaim your love in the morning and your faithfulness at night, [italics mine]

to the music of the ten-stringed lyre and the melody of the harp.

We learned that the principle of Sabbath rest goes back to creation.  That is how the Lord explained it when He gave the fourth commandment to Moses in Exodus 20:8-11:

Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.  Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God.  On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates.  For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day.  Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

In the New Testament we learn that Jesus fulfills all of the Law for us, and He Himself is our Sabbath rest (Hebrews 4; Romans 5:19; Hebrews 5:8-10).  We find the disciples, after His Sunday-morning resurrection, gathering on the first day of the week, “the Lord’s day,” or Sunday.  So, as G. I Williamson explains, “it is the proportion alone—and not the order—that is fixed by the commandment.”[1]  J. I Packer concurs: “The relation is just a new way of counting six-and-one, so that Lord’s Day observance is the Christian form of Sabbath-keeping.”[2]

Whether you call it the Sabbath or the Lord’s Day, the day recurs weekly; it recognizes some sort of distinctiveness for one day in seven; it celebrates redemption in Christ and his resurrection, which is a fulfillment of the concept of rest embodied in the Sabbath; the one who is worshiped on the Lord’s Day is the bringer of the truth of the Sabbath rest of salvation to which the Old Testament Sabbath pointed (John 5; Hebrews 3-4), prefiguring the future rest of the consummation; and includes the notion of worship and, finally, the concept of lordship.[3]

There is great freedom in how we choose to keep the day “holy” or set apart, yet we ignore observing it to our peril.  God made us; He knows we need rest.  And He has graciously provided the means that give us true restoration—including a day of rest set apart unto Him and for us—because we were created “to glorify God and enjoy Him forever” (WSC Q & A #1), which includes the here and now.  

Countless lists can be found with suggestions about what should and should not be done on Sunday.  A simple and helpful one comes from H. G. G. Herklots.  Paraphrased, he says that the Lord’s Day should be:

1)      A day of worship.

2)      A day of rest in the sense that Christians do not cause others to do unnecessary work for them.

3)      A day of real recreation, which by its changed occupation refreshes the mind and body and spirit “after divine service.”

4)      A day when a Christian goes out of his way to help those who are in need.[4]

He sums it up this way: “For Christians, Sunday is the most important day of the week.  A week without Sunday can be like a ship without a rudder.  On the Lord’s Day Christians come together into the presence of their Lord: it is here that the Christian family realizes its unity as at few other times.  This does not happen automatically.  Sunday must be remembered.  But if it be also hallowed it may hallow all the week.”[5]

                On so many Sundays, such as one recently when assistant pastor Chris Smith gave a wonderful message during the evening service on Psalm 13, we drive away from the church saying, “Can you believe what we learned today?” And, “What better way could there be to end this day?”  To be able to express prayer concerns and have them prayed for by the men and women of the congregation; to see a little hand go up during hymn requests and hear the child’s voice say, “Number 100, please, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy,’ verses 1 and 4;” to hear God’s word faithfully and thoughtfully preached; to sing new songs as well as familiar old hymns; to spend time afterwards talking with church family members—yes, I’m free to miss all that.  But why would I?

                If attending Sunday evening worship is not the habit of your life, I encourage you to give it a try—especially during the summer, without having to get your children up for school the next day.  Train your children and your own hearts in the blessing of setting aside the whole of Sunday to the Lord, book-ending it by morning and evening worship.  I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, and believe you will find it to be a very good thing.

---

[1] G. I. Williamson, The Shorter Catechism for Study Classes, Vol. 2 (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 1970), 43.

[2] J. I, Packer, The Ten Commandments (Appleford, England: Marcham Manor Press, n.d.), 6.

[3] A. T. Lincoln, “From Sabbath to Lord’s Day: A Biblical and Theological Investigation,” ed. D. A. Carson (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982), 398-400.

[4] H.G.G. Herklots, The Ten Commandments and Modern Man (Fair Lawn, NJ: Essential Books, 1958), 81.

[5] Ibid., 81-83.

Growing Old Gracefully

You don’t think that day will ever come.  But eventually, in every woman’s life, comes the moment when someone sees your high school graduation portrait or your wedding portrait and says, “Is that you?!”

It’s shocking to hear.  The change has been so gradual.  It seems to you that the same face has been looking back at you from the mirror since those days.  But obviously, that young face has been replaced by something that is unrecognizable to those who did not know you then.

That happened to me some years ago.  I was tempted to respond, “Well who in the world do you think it is?” but it took me so off guard, thankfully, that I didn’t. However, it does makes me want to say, when I meet someone new, “Hi, I’m Mary Beth, and I didn’t used to look like this!”

There are other consequences to this change in looks that comes with age.  There is a loss of power.  When you are a young woman, you’ve never been anything else, so you are not aware of the power of youth to make a good impression, to open doors, to turn heads.  It’s all you’ve ever known.  But as the years go by that power diminishes.  There is a freedom that comes with that, too—as men look at you more like a mother or grandmother—no more wolf whistles or men trying to strike up conversations in airports.  But the power factor has changed.

There also can be a crisis of identity, depending upon how much of your identity is tied to your looks.  It surprised me how much this challenged me as time went by.  I was ashamed to realize how much I had depended upon my youth to “win friends and influence people.”  I had thought that my identity was in Jesus Christ, in the fact that He died and rose again to save sinners like me, that through Him God had made me His child and had given me purpose for living and hope in death.  How could I be so shallow?  I knew that looks don’t make you who you are.  I gained 30 pounds my junior year in high school and saw how people’s response to me changed; I became virtually invisible to boys.  Then I lost those 30 pounds my senior year, and guess what?  I became visible again.  So I have always thought that I had a handle on not judging people by their outward appearance.  Except my own, apparently: I struggled to believe that I was as valuable a human being when my looks faded.  Intellectually, I knew that to be a lie of our culture but, emotionally, it felt that way.

Observing the pattern of life, I knew that eventually “Father Time and Mother Nature do a job on all of us.”  I had always said that I wanted the lines in my face to be laugh lines, to chisel joy rather than sadness or bitterness into my countenance.  But things happen—profound grief, difficulties, loss, genetics…and the lines just get chiseled as they will.  And when it happened, when those wrinkles and sags appeared in ways I did not anticipate, there was a point of decision:  Who am I, really?  And who do I want to be now?

My identity is in Jesus Christ.  My chief end is “to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever.”  My desire is to draw other people to Him and to help them grow in their knowledge and love of Him.  My prayer is that He might use me to do this, and since he wants us to “go and make disciples,” He must intend for me to do that in my current physical condition and age.  So, I am asking Him to help me live in a way that will not hinder that purpose.

So, what makes a woman of a certain age winsome?  The same things that make anyone winsome, I’d say: giving smiles, hugs, encouragement…being loving, gracious, empathetic, generous, wise, thoughtful, self-sacrificing, joyful, gentle, kind…basically, being like Christ.  I cannot be those things in my own power, of course—but God’s Word says that He is in the process of making me more like that, through my union with Christ and by His enabling grace (2 Corinthians 3:18).  My job is to trust Him for that and to be about the business of loving Him and loving others.

“Do not let your adorning be external…but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious.”

—1 Peter 3:3-4 (ESV).  Lord, make it so.