“It’s all in your head.” Doctors say this, maybe family too, and whether or not they intend it, you hear a dismissive tone. A put-down. A message that says “it’s your fault, you caused it, and it won’t go away until you decide to stop it.”
In all fairness, what a good doctor probably means is, “It’s outside my expertise to help you with something that’s generated in your mind.” The tone is probably genuine regret that s/he can’t help.
Let’s not get into the debate over whether it truly is generated in your mind. Doctors have been known to write off tangible physical responses to environmental and food sensitivities because the tests don’t show any proof. And other things actually are products of the mind.
The fact is, we’re still stuck with the problem until we get help. If a medical doctor can’t help, perhaps a naturopath or counsellor can—or a prayer warrior.
Today I’m thinking of the kind of thing that actually is all in the head: the lies or worldviews that we internalize and believe that limit and damage us. The garbage that needs taking out.
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For me some of that is self-pity, self-focus and just plain self. I found Joyce Meyer’s Battlefield of the Mind a very effective removal tool, and I need to read it again.
It’s important to recognize the mental crud, agree with Jesus that it doesn’t belong there, and then cooperate with Him to replace it with wholesome, holy, healthy thoughts.
If it’s all in my head… that means it’s not a tangible disease or limitation. Real, but it doesn’t need a scalpel, drugs or a prosthesis to fix. It just needs realigning my mind to God and cooperating with Him.
I find that liberating and encouraging.
God bless Peter Furler for his song, “All in Your Head,” where I first heard the encouraging tone and the assurance that “it’s all in your head” means “nothing’s really holding you back” and I could push through the blockage.
Rose Harmer writes about “Rest” at Under the Cover of Prayer.
At Roller Coaster Suspense, Marcy Dyer looks at exhaustion and priorities: “Noodled.”
And at Hearing the Heartbeat, Carolyn Watts reminds us that it’s not about working harder and pushing through the pain. It’s about resting in God. Read “Gifts from Your Personal Trainer.”
Bonus: In Refresh: 19 Ways to Boost Your Spiritual Life, Ron Hughes explores the value of rest. He says:
“Sabbath rest … reminds us that we did not make the world, that we are not in charge, and that everything will not grind to a halt if we reduce our activity level. Sabbath is not a reward for us getting all of our work done … we can relax in our awareness that we trust God, not ourselves, to meet our needs.” [Refresh, pp. 151-152]
My friend Jan Cox has dubbed this the Year of Trust. I’m focusing on relentless gratitude, and there’s a definite cross-over. Gratitude to God reinforces trust in God.
Here are some links I’ve found helpful:
Carolyn Watts’ posts at Hearing the Heartbeat often bless me. Here she offers a simple reminder of what trust can look like.
Good Friday is always a difficult day for me, facing the sacrifice that Jesus made for us–for me–and wishing there’d been another way. Recently at Hearing the Heartbeat, Carolyn Watts looked at it a little differently and discovered:
As much as I want to be able to bear my own blame, it would destroy me. If I want to be His, I must let Him kneel at the scourging post, hands tied above His head, let Him take every last stroke of that fiercely studded whip that should have been mine, and continue, body already broken, down the road to the cross, that final doorway into the heart of enemy territory. If I want to be His, I must receive the gift of Himself.
My friend Jan Cox has dubbed this the Year of Trust. I’m focusing on relentless gratitude, and there’s a definite cross-over. Gratitude to God reinforces trust in God.
Here are some links I’ve found helpful:
Carolyn Watts’ posts at Hearing the Heartbeat often bless me. Here she offers a simple reminder of what trust can look like.
Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. ~Howard Thurman
What makes me come alive?
Worship. First, foremost. It’s like oxygen, water and food. Subsets would be listening prayer, reading the Bible (and really listening), and worship music.
Creating. Mostly through writing fiction. Cross-stitch, knitting and cooking also help.
Loving and being loved. Accepting and being accepted. Minds and hearts meeting.
If this quote is true, and I suspect it is, then allowing life to crowd these things out makes me less effective as a person. Even if I complete everything on my to-do list.
My heart won’t be there. I won’t be what Dr. Howard Thurman calls alive. Who around me will be the poorer for it?
We can’t spend all day doing what we like best. There are wages to earn, household chores and responsibilities to tend to, social interactions (yes, we introverts find this a hard one) etc. But this quote intrigues me with the promise that intentionally including come-alive experiences in part of my day will positively affect the whole 24 hours.
“Today is gone, it was not fun. Tomorrow is another one. Every day from here to there, funny things are everywhere.” (With apologies to Dr. Seuss’ One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish)
Certain Seuss-isms have lodged in my brain and pop out at times to bother my children. The good Doctor actually wrote “today was fun” and I tend to quote this one properly at the end of a good but tiring day. But the day in question had been stressful and I was glad to see the end of it.
Instead of his usual Seuss-induced eye roll, my 15-year-old stepped into my personal space, index finger outstretched, and challenged, “Name three good things that happened today. Fast.”
Umm.
There had been good things, not least being that although anxiety had hounded me all day I hadn’t crumpled. I was just tired of the repetitive battle.
He didn’t move. “Three good things.”
I don’t remember now which three I told him, but his moment of tough love is up there with the best things in that day.
How quickly we forget the good, or focus on the bad instead. And as Ann Voskamp says in One Thousand Gifts, even the bad can be a gift if we choose to recognize God there and continue giving thanks.
Gratitude has to be intentional. Deliberate. Radical.
