A Rest

"God does not write the music of our lives without a plan.

Our part is to learn the tune and not be discouraged during the rests....

If we will only look up, God Himself will count the time for us.

With our eyes on Him, our next note will be full and clear.

If we sorrowfully say to ourselves, 'There is no music in a rest,'

let us not forget that the rest is part of the making of the music."

--John Ruskin from Streams in the Desert 

It's time for a rest. Following this post, I will rest from social media. My Facebook account will be deactivated, and my blog will be left fallow for a season.

As a musician, I think of rests as intentional silence. Intentional silence isn't not having things to say. It's choosing not to say them. For a reason.

There are several reasons behind the decision, but before I share those I want to clearly state what my reasons are not:

• I am not angry with social media or with any individual who uses it. 
• I do not believe social media is an inherent evil. In many ways, it is a good.
• I am not unhappy with the pitfalls of Facebook or blogging. I don't care much about page hits or likes, and I don't begrudge anyone their pizza, night on the town, or Disney vacation. 
 

The bottom line of my choice: My life presents many difficulties and challenges, which I have taken to God in prayer. In response, He has offered a season of rest as a solution to all of them.

Choice. That's an important word. For once, I'm the one closing the door. God guided me to the threshold, displayed my options, and while I know full well He is sovereign over my choice, He has also entrusted the verdict to me. His confidence is precious to my soul.

Piece by piece, the Lord has created a mosaic with my questions and His answers. Now the picture sits complete before me, and I can see the thing that needs doing.

Embracing Obscurity

The first piece came to me two years ago when I read the anonymously authored book, Embracing Obscurity. My disease has forced me into obscurity, and I have complied without bitterness. But now I have the opportunity to actively, worshipfully embrace it by laying aside my online presence. That may not seem like a big deal to some, but my online presence is the only presence I have in the world outside of my home. I don't work. I don't have a church. It's me, my family, and a handful of friends brave enough to enter into my madness.

You may ask why anyone would want to embrace obscurity. Here it is--the kingdom of God is an upside down kingdom in which the truths don't always make sense. Sometimes, the truths oppose sense (i.e. the Beatitudes, Matthew 5:3-12). Jesus had a lot to say about condescension preceding exaltation, most of which was spoken with actions, not words. As a believer, I desire to follow in my Savior's footsteps. But more than that, this is me cooperating with what God is already doing in my life. This is my "yes" to His call to become less that He may become more (John 3:30).

Addiction

I'm Melissa, and I'm addicted to Facebook.

I'm not being cute or silly. I'm dead serious. I use Facebook like druggies use heroin.

I'm not happy with my life at the moment. Things have been hard since October of last year. I thought I'd be healed by now, but I'm caught in this crazy cha cha of two steps forward, three steps back. I'm lonely, sad, and discouraged, and too spent to deal with any of it. Escape is easier. I fill empty moments scrolling my newsfeed because I am too terrified of my own darkness to face it.

There's a flip side to this addiction. When I'm doing well as I was last summer, I can easily shift from being a Facebook addict to what Paul David Tripp calls a "Glory Junkie." According to his two part article, I exemplify at least 5 of 8 signs of glory addiction.

(You can read Tripp's articles here and here.)

By eliminating Facebook and my blog for a season, I can rehabilitate from both addictions at once. But according to this article, which discusses the probable cause of addiction, I'm going to have to do more than cut myself off. I also need to reconnect with "actual, real-live people."

Elsa is Winning

In my previous post, I elaborated on how I resemble both Elsa and Anna in Disney's Frozen. But let me tell you--I'm in full-blown ice queen mode right now. Emotional detachment is the name of the game because it's easier than feeling the pain.

Facebook enables me to detach. I can scroll my newsfeed, and not have to connect to anyone, not even the souls living in my own house.

My Facebook addiction is a double-edged sword because it's both the enabler and the drug. You want to know what scientists believe may be the cause of addiction? Isolation. Let that soak in for a moment.

Johann Hari writes in his article "The Likely Cause of Addiction Has Been Discovered, and It Is Not What You Think:"

"The rats with good lives didn't like the drugged water. They mostly shunned it, consuming less than a quarter of the drugs the isolated rats used. None of them died. While all the rats who were alone and unhappy became heavy users, none of the rats who had a happy environment did....

After the first phase of Rat Park, Professor Alexander then took this test further. He reran the early experiments, where the rats were left alone, and became compulsive users of the drug. He let them use for fifty-seven days -- if anything can hook you, it's that. Then he took them out of isolation, and placed them in Rat Park. He wanted to know, if you fall into that state of addiction, is your brain hijacked, so you can't recover? Do the drugs take you over? What happened is -- again -- striking. The rats seemed to have a few twitches of withdrawal, but they soon stopped their heavy use, and went back to having a normal life. The good cage saved them....

Here's one example of an experiment that is happening all around you, and may well happen to you one day. If you get run over today and you break your hip, you will probably be given diamorphine, the medical name for heroin....[I]f the old theory of addiction is right -- it's the drugs that cause it; they make your body need them -- then it's obvious what should happen. Loads of people should leave the hospital and try to score smack on the streets to meet their habit. But here's the strange thing: It virtually never happens....

The street-addict is like the rats in the first cage, isolated, alone, with only one source of solace to turn to. The medical patient is like the rats in the second cage. She is going home to a life where she is surrounded by the people she loves. The drug is the same, but the environment is different.

This gives us an insight that goes much deeper than the need to understand addicts. Professor Peter Cohen argues that human beings have a deep need to bond and form connections. It's how we get our satisfaction....

So the opposite of addiction is not sobriety. It is human connection."

My goal is to improve human connection, and thereby kick the habit.

Better Invitations

My connection to my kids needs improvement. The first part of my mornings are spent away from them in sick person self-care. After that, breakfast and email. Then I lose myself in Facebook Land until it's time pick up Micah from school, cook lunch, do laundry, etc.

When the inevitable "Look, Mom!" comes, I greet it with a passive "Mmhmm" at best, with a side of grump at worst. But "Look, Mom!" shouldn't be a burden. "Look, Mom!" is an invitation into their world, and if I don't start accepting the invitation, I will eventually stop being invited.

If I need a drug to ease my pain, Kid Land isn't a bad choice. It's costs very little and gives quite the high. Strong relationships with the kids are a side-effect of regular trips.

Meaningful Communication

The reason I did not simply fade into online oblivion without comment is that I'm not seeking further isolation, but deeper connection. Whether we visit face to face, over the phone, through text, or by email, it's all more meaningful than likes and page hits.

"In The House"

Christian friends: That moment when you are--tra-la-la--reading your Bible and all of a sudden the Holy Spirit lifts the words off the page like a hologram. You know what I'm talking about. It would be super-duper awesome if the words didn't trample all over your toes. Right?

So there I was memorizing the beatitudes and similitudes when I came across Matthew 5:15--

"Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lamp stand, and it gives light to all who are in the house."

God isn't so interested in me shining for the world right now. He wants me to shine "in the house." I'm not the only one around here flailing dangerously close to the mouth of a pit. My entire family is in a rough spot. Sara is now a threenager. Micah and I were once thick as thieves, but have lost our closeness. And while I do my best to honor Brandon's privacy here, I will tell you his life is far from easy.

The world doesn't really need me but my family does, and I only have a little to give. It's time for my smouldering wick to focus it's light upon those "in the house."

 "Shut The Door"

The hologram effect happened last summer, too, when I read the story of Elisha and the widow's oil in 2 Kings 4. In the story, the widow owes money to creditors who have threatened to enslave her two sons. She seeks the prophet Elisha's help. He tells her, "Go, borrow vessels from everywhere, from all your neighbors--empty vessels; [gather many]. And when you have come in, you shall shut the door behind you and your sons; then pour it into all those vessels, and set aside the full ones." The next verse reads, "So she went from him and shut the door behind her and her sons."She followed every detail of Elisha's orders, filled many vessels, and sold enough oil to pay her debts and cover her expenses. Her sons were saved.

There are no small details when it comes to God's commands. "Shut the door" was an important aspect of the miracle. God wanted to work something in the widow privately before He provided for her publicly.

Just as there are times husbands and wives must shut the door, there are times the believer and her God must do the same. What happens behind the door is private, but it eventually evidences itself.

God and I have a lot of work to do. There is sin to be put down--yes, always--but there's more. God and I are in a grappling match. I know He's going to win, but the work must still be done. Here is a recent excerpt from my Job study notes which will give you a peek into my heart--

"....[Christians] isolate a piece of God's sovereignty--His goodness, might, or wisdom--and reject the piece that doesn't fit with the God they want. In this, the Christian becomes a practical atheist. Here is the the truth: No one is 100% comfortable with I AM. We all like the loving God who paints beautiful sunsets and blesses us with prosperity, but we don't know what to think about the God who feeds young lions with innocent lambs, who allows children to die, and who destroys a good person's health. But God does not exist to be liked. He exists because He exists. He is I AM WHO I AM. The work of an authentic worshiper is to accept the wild and glorious God who has accepted us. To take Him as He is. To say with Job, 'God is wise in heart and mighty in strength. Who has hardened himself against Him and prospered?' (9:4)...Like is too insipid an emotion for a God like this. He leaves us with two options only: to reject Him or worship Him."

Since the day the words "shut the door" leapt off the page, I've had to continually ask, "Is this something I should share or keep to myself?" So many ideas never made it to the blog because the Holy Spirit within gave a great big "NOPE!" as the words began to form. Now I don't have to wonder, decide, or waste my time forming a post only to have it axed later. I'm shutting the door.

But not forever. Eventually, these intimate moments will produce something to be shared with the world. Like the city on a hill, it won't be hidden.

Making Space

If I want intimacy, I must make space for it. Because I fill every empty moment with social media, there is no room for silence. Silence is vital to the believer because it is in silence that God speaks. I need to give God room to work life in this mortal body, to revive this wounded and weary heart.

Speaking of silence, I think it's time for me to shut up for awhile. I need to improve my listening skills. Not only with God, but with people. Sufferers don't need a blog post telling them how to manage their suffering as much as they need a listening ear and a praying friend. I have a lot to learn, which means I have lot of listening to do. It's time to step away from the podium and open my ears and my heart.

And, of course, there's the novel. I completed my rough draft December 20, 2014. And--wow--is it rough. Since then, I've taken the advice of a family friend who is also a published author, and set the work aside for a time in order regain a reader's perspective before diving into rewrites. Meanwhile, I've been researching in order to better define the world I've built around my characters and story. Rewriting is the real work of writing, and it's time-consuming. I'll be in that place soon. By giving the blog a rest, I can focus my mental energies upon my larger project rather than dividing them between the two.

Accomplishing My Goals

Before the pieces were all in place, before social media rest crossed my mind, I journaled this list of goals for 2015:

1. Listen. Listen, listen, listen. Listen carefully, respectfully, humbly, thoughtfully, and compassionately.
2. Wait to speak. Wait 30 chapters before uttering a peep.
3. Speak when it is time to speak. Be brave!
4. Speak truth in love.
5. Love mercy. Show mercy.
6. Be thank-full.
7. Forget myself.
8. Dance! (Learn "Thriller." It's time.)
9. Be "joyful in hope, patient under trial, faithful in prayer."
10. Love creatively, thoughtfully, meaningfully.
11. Look for the plank. It's there. Forgive the speck. It's small.
12. Produce a readable draft of the novel. Let someone read it.
13. Read more. Facebook less.
14. Live. Consider risk and reward. Choose life at every opportunity.
15. Live purposefully. Seek God's will. Do it.

Do you see how many of these goals are met in this one goodbye? Do you see how God had this all figured out, and led me here in His own gentle way in His own good time? Do you see that stepping away is necessary?

Even if you don't, I do. I see it, and I'm certain. And I'm not often certain when it comes to change. 

So this is goodbye. For a time, anyway. If you want to keep up with me while I'm away, I plan to send out periodic newsletters via email. You may send your email address to melkeaster@gmail.com if you would like to receive those.

Now for a poem I recently penned to mark where I am today so I can appreciate where I'll be when I return--

Some diseases are a death sentence.
Some are a life sentence.
Which is easier to bear?
A small cell or the chair?
A cage or a casket?
No one knows
and both are hard
on the sick one and the watchers.
Some of us die in here,
but I believe
there is a key
for me,
an early release.
Or so I've been told
by the Prison Ward
who is kind and good and wise and hard.
The door will open
when the cell has done its work
and the bars have made me free.
Or so I believe.
But all I see
are steel and concrete.
Spare walls and a lonely lock
mock my faith.
I smell sky and pine.
Sun shafts through the window.
Voices chuckle and cluck,
a murmur through stone,
a reminder of what I'm missing,
a promise of what's to come.
But the Warden visits me--
and this place has be-come
Home.
"For a while," He corrects.
So I believe. 

"Let us not forget that the rest is part of the making of the music."

The Discipline of Rest

It has been a difficult three weeks. As I recovered from my allergic reactions in January, I became ill with the stomach flu. As I recovered from the stomach flu, I came down with a certain strand of the real flu which was neither Type A or B. As I recovered from the flu, I came down with a cold, which is progressively getting worse. That brings me to today. After three weeks of this, I can say with conviction that I'm sick of being sick. However, even when this latest, and hopefully last, illness of the season departs, I have only a period of isolation to look forward to, a difficult reality for someone who enjoys routine, plans and people and who often falls prey to the temptation to base her value and worth upon the number of checks on her to-do list. When I became ill with the flu, I did the unthinkable for me. I called off all music lessons for the rest of the month, decided to take a break from going to church and teaching Sunday school and made plans to stay home until our family vacation to Branson in two weeks, which I may or may not be well enough to actually take. Needless to say, I'm totally bummed.

A lot of people have been praying for me, which I have greatly needed and appreciated. One of those people is Mrs. Dixie, a special person I have mentioned before. Mrs. Dixie has been my mother's spiritual mentor for years, and recently became my own. God has used her in my life to challenge, convict, and console me. And she has the most uncanny knack for somehow synchronizing her telephone calls with my lowest spiritual moments. Including last night, she has done this three times in a row, and many more times than that overall. That's not coincidence. That's God connecting two people to the same wire.

Yesterday was my first day to keep Micah all by myself after all of my illness. I did some necessary laundry, and cooked dinner, and by the time I sat down to eat, I was past the point of exhaustion. There were still dishes to do and a boy to bathe and to put to bed, and I simply could not do it all. The realization was maddening, especially in light of the fact that I felt that the only ministry God had left in my hands was to serve my family. I had to ask Brandon, who has also recently been ill and had worked a long day at the pharmacy, to either help with the dishes or with Micah. He chose to take care of Micah (and who wouldn't?). He left to bathe our son, which left me alone in the kitchen with my demon-driven thoughts and self-accusations. The pattern, which circled in my mind over and over again, went something like this:

"You have been entrusted with one last ministry--just one!--and you can't even do that right. Your family needs you, and you can't even do the simplest of tasks. If you can't minister to your family, God will never trust you with your other ministries ever again."

I knew that voice well enough, and I knew it wasn't the voice of the Holy Spirit, but I couldn't find the strength to rebuke it. I was in tears when the phone rang. "Dixie," my cell phone read. I answered it without hesitation. A part of me may have been halfway expecting it. We talked for awhile, but to sum up the most important part of the conversation, I will paraphrase what she said to me about my ministry.

"Sometimes God relieves us of our ministries for a season. Accept His decision, and choose only to rest in Him."

A simple, perfect concept.

Today, I relinquished all of my ministries--teaching music, teaching Sunday school, spending time with my Christian sisters, my family, even my ministry of intercession--and my ridiculous to-do list into His ultra-capable hands. I asked only that He would fill me with His Spirit, help me to rest in His person, and help me to walk in the Spirit, thereby working in me to will and to do only the good works which He has prepared beforehand for me to do according to His good pleasure for this specific season.

The following passages are from today's meditation. They have been paraphrased and adapted from multiple translations. I hope they bless you as much as they have blessed me.

"The Lord is my Shepherd.
In Him, I will be satisfied.
He makes me lie down and rest.
He leads me to a peaceful place.
He restores my weary soul.
He leads me in the way of righteousness
for the sake of His glorious name."
~Psalm 23:1-3


"Preserve me, O God, for in You I put my trust.
I say to the Lord, 'You are my Lord!'
Apart from you, I have no good thing.
The godly people in the land
are my true heroes!
I take pleasure in them.

(Here, I'd like to shout out to Mrs. Dixie, Nona and my mom,
for they are truly "godly people.")

Troubles multiply for those who chase after other gods.
I will not take part in their sacrifices of blood
or even speak the names of other gods.
Lord, you alone are my inheritance, my cup of blessing.
You guard all that is mine
(including my life, my health).
The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
yes, I have a good inheritance.
I will bless the Lord who guides me;
My heart also instructs me in the night seasons.
I know the Lord is always with me.
I will not be shaken, for He is right beside me.
Therefore, my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices;
MY FLESH ALSO WILL REST IN HOPE.For you will not leave my soul among the dead,
or allow your holy one to rot in the grave.
You will show me the way of life,
granting me the joy of your presence
and the pleasures of living with you forever.
~Psalm 16

The Island

It's difficult to describe the parts of the world that hold a little more magic than the other parts. The magic is in the air. Of course, you can't see the magic. Air doesn't have a color of it's own, although it is perfectly capable of borrowing color from other sources, as you will later see. Some of you already think I'm talking crazy, but if you have been to one of these more magical places of the world, one of those places where you are certain God must have taken a little more time dreaming it up, then you know what I'm talking about. You also know what I'm talking about if you have read The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis, but magic is another blog topic altogether.

I'm trying to describe the place I vacationed last weekend. Little Gasparilla Island is a tiny barrier island off the west coast of Florida (Tampa side). Here is an aerial photo:


Little Gasparilla is about a 15 minute boat ride from the mainland. It's long and skinny, and situated very closely to Gasparilla Island, its big sister. I can't speak for that big sister, but the little sister is enchanting.

We arrived on a hot, miserable Friday afternoon. Our Little Red cried the entire boat ride across the bay because he didn't care for the heat, the life jacket or the delayed nap. As soon as we docked, the crying stopped. (I say it was the magic.) We were greeted by a flock of fiddler crabs at the end of the pier, waving their hellos to my sleepy son. We loaded the golf cart with our luggage, and took the short walk to the beach house where we'd be staying. Even in the heat, I was already falling in love.

We took it slow that afternoon. Micah napped. The boys rested. I rested and explored a little. I discovered that you can hear the waves pounding the sand from the front porch of the little house.


I discovered that the front yard was home to a fair sized gopher turtle.


I discovered that the walk to the beach takes less than one minute, and that I had more fingers than beachmates on this island . . .


and that's including the birds.

The only sensible thing to do about meals on the island is to bring them to the island. My uber smart and experienced friends began meal planning back in June. They knew they'd be planning around a daddy with Crohn's Disease, a mommy with a ridiculous list of allergens, and a baby who can be a little tricky to nourish at times. Danielle and Ryan did a great job with planning as you can see . . .

Danielle's dad graciously took my husband and Ryan out into the bay to catch the dinner you see in the second picture. Brandon loved the fishing, and there is something fulfilling in bringing home the bacon, frying it up and feasting upon it, even if it's fish instead of bacon. That dinner was shared by us, Danielle and Ryan (our sweet friends who brought us out there), Danielle's family, their friends and their college Sunday school class. Sharing good food with old friends and new acquaintances you will be spending eternity with . . . well, that's fulfilling, too.
Other magical moments include:

Feasting upon mangoes grown on the island.
Spending a rainy day out on the screened in porch, alternately reading and napping, listening to the ocean and the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the roof and sand in the background of our dreams . . . taking in the briny scent of the island air . . . the cool breeze caressing our skin.


Watching a storm approach, yell, "Sike!" and then dance around us . . .

Shell hunting in between storm cells . . .

Observing Micah as he makes peace the with the sand that threatens his balance, and as he makes friends with it later . . .Staying up late to talk with friends, and rising to a lazy morning and a big breakfast . . . .

Kurt Pendergrass's amazing vanilla lattes made out of Puerto Rican coffee and goat milk (just for me!) . . .

Micah's long and peaceful naps . . .

The outdoor showers . . .

And finally, the most magical moments of all . . . gathering for the sunsets . . .

and the sunsets themselves . . .




I wrote a poem about those sunsets, but it doesn't do them justice. I'll share it with you, anyway--

There is a certain sense of serenity
at sunset on the beach.
Splendor in abundance
from sputtering sea foam to eternal sky;
blues and greys, gold in rays
spin purple, rose, scarlet, fire in the heavens.
Fire in the heavens should not be,
but clouds and sea sing it it back to me.
Lovely echoes, the final throes of day
giving way to new music.
And with a sigh,
that fiery sphere sinks like a stone
into its bed of sputtering sea foam,
conceding into afterglow.

-Melissa Keaster 8/13/10


When you finally leave a place this magical, you carry a little of that magic back home with you. As I sit here writing this, reflecting upon last weekend, my heart beats in rhythm with the waves, and my eyes pool with sea water. And if I close my eyes, the salty drops drip down my face, but I can see that final sunset, smell the island air, hear the ocean lulling me with its steady, "hush, hush, hush," and feel the warmth of knowing that heaven will somehow be better than this.