Three Aha's to Conquer Overwhelmed

I crossed the threshold of my office, and the sensation punched me. The crummy feeling robbed me of the joy I generally experience when entering my sacred place.

On a normal day, my office is like a haven. My bookshelves, my floral chair, and my photos of family create an atmosphere of warmth and welcome. Typically, I relish the opportunity to step into my zone, close the door behind me, embrace the solitude, and launch into my work.

So on this day I had to ask, “What gives?” “What is going on here?” Then it hit me: I feel Overwhelmed (overcome, overpowered, swamped), by my daunting work agenda. There was far more to do than there was time to meet the deadlines. 

Can you relate to my feeling overwhelmed?

Life’s unwanted visitor named Overwhelmed knocks on many of our personal doors, and barges uninvited into numerous settings like the following:

Realizing there is more month than money (I feel overwhelmed.)

Pondering the heartache with a child’s behavior (I feel overwhelmed.)

Absorbing test results and the necessary journey of treatment (I feel overwhelmed.)

Glancing at the to-do list (I feel overwhelmed.)

Stepping on the scales (I feel overwhelmed.)

Listening to the evening news (I feel overwhelmed.)

Staring at the calendar (I feel overwhelmed.)

Hearing an aging parent’s voice articulate hopelessness (I feel overwhelmed.)

Mulling over a spouse’s upcoming travel commitments (I feel overwhelmed.)

Walking down the hall after the parent-teacher conference (I feel overwhelmed.)

Approaching the gym (I feel overwhelmed.)

Considering the untouched correspondence demanding attention (I feel overwhelmed.)

Rebounding from the phone call with _______ (you fill in the blank). (I feel overwhelmed.)

When Overwhelmed reigns, problems mushroom—distorting our situation and immobilizing us. Furthermore, Overwhelmed gobbles up joy, impedes progress, and dictates defeat while simultaneously demanding our surrender. Whether the challenge is temporary or long-term, Overwhelmed is no respecter of gender or generation, of season or circumstance.

After further thought, I am convinced that languishing in no man’s land of Overwhelmed comes when we leave God out of the equation, when we access the situation from our human perspective, and assume that a solution depends on our limited resources.  

So, here is my conclusion:

Overwhelmed is not from God. Overwhelmed is real—very real—but Overwhelmed is not from God. 

On the contrary, peace is from God, and peace is my rightful inheritance as His child. In facing my deadlines that day in my office, I needed to realign myself with His truth by remembering three aha's:

Aha #1. God has a plan for me: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11).

Aha #2. God has resources for my specific situation: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10).

Aha #3. God loves me and will never abandon me: My presence will go with you and I will give you rest (Exodus 33:14).

After all, and it is true, His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness (2 Peter 1:3).

Now that makes me Overwhelmed with relief and with exceedingly great joy!

Living With Eternal Intentionality™

Right now, what makes you feel overwhelmed?

Is God overwhelmed by your situation?

Based on a promise from the Word of God, how can you expect Him to show up?

The Night I Stood with a Nation

Everybody has a Billy Graham story. Ruth (Bunny) Graham's statement at her father’s recent funeral takes me to the archives of my soul where I resurrect my own treasured memory.

Dark…cold…ominous…extraordinary. These words described feelings churning inside of me as Larry and I approached the front of Holy Trinity Church in downtown Warsaw, Poland. This October evening of 1978 the international political climate was every bit as cold as the night itself. The rumbling tram and the uneven wet sidewalk served as stage props for the drama playing out.

Billy Graham, the outspoken global evangelist was making his debut behind the Iron Curtain, and Warsaw was on his itinerary. We could not help but attend. Yet, this historical gathering caused a world to wonder about the outcome. Would there be repercussions for those gathered? Would the evangelist himself be safe?

Looking around I noticed men wearing long trench coats and floppy brimmed Fedora hats. Even as a novice to the global Cold War tensions, I knew some of these figures were on our side, and some were on the other side.

I remember wearing a scarf on my head—of all things. Somehow I felt a scarf would serve to mask my identity.  This American—a Christ follower, a child of NATO, and now an attendee at this extraordinary event in an atheist nation—just ducked her head and clutched her husband’s arm and continue toward the ancient majestic structure.

The crowd spilled over to the dark outside steps telling us that the inside space was already jammed packed. Would we be able to get inside the doors or would we stand in the cold with the clusters of men in trench coats? (We squeezed inside.)

Without hope of acquiring a seat, Larry inched us toward a spot in the back most corner near a pillar. Even inside, it was quite cold, and everyone stayed bundled in coats. I soon realized there would be no heat.

Fixed fast in our confining square of space, we began to wait. Long before the evangelist entered, my pregnant body grew weary. I leaned against Larry for support. No one spoke a word, and no one looked up or around to acknowledge those in close proximity. Every person in this mass of humanity preferred anonymity.

While I waited, and since Larry and I would not dare open our English-speaking mouths to chat with each other, I fantasized about meeting the evangelist. I stood on my tiptoes and peered toward the front as I tried to catch a glimpse of other people in his entourage—Ruth Graham, Cliff Barrows, George Beverly Shea, anyone of those associated with the same Cause that brought me to live as an undercover missionary. My efforts were to no avail; I could only see a sea of coats, hats, and other headscarves.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity and without fanfare, the man Billy Graham entered from a small door in the front of the giant structure. With that entrance a holy hush descended. There would be no music, no choir, no solos, and no testimonies from celebrities, no, not in this setting. Just a man, his translator, his Bible, and his Message.

From my space in the back by the pillar, I witnessed a miracle. Into this setting of cold Communist darkness, the bright light of the love of God and Word of God exploded. With respect, but with authority, Billy Graham did what Billy Graham always did: he shared the gospel of Jesus for a nation starved to know the Truth. Standing in an unfamiliar cold church in an atheist country, I felt enormously privileged to be a part of what this man believed.

And just like that, before I was ready, he was done. After asking for those deciding to receive Jesus to raise their hands, he closed his Bible, he turned, and he walked back through the same small side door, which carried him away from me. I felt sad and supremely happy at the same time. Desperately, I longed to talk to him and say, “Thank you for being so bold! Thank you for coming here! You brought Hope into a society that is desperate for hope. We are on the same team!”

Now as the world tells him goodbye, I thank God for my own Billy Graham story. I am deeply grateful for that one night when I stood with a nation as they experienced Hope.

Living with Eternal Intentionality™

Do you, or someone close to you, have your own Billy Graham story?

Chili You Can Trust

What comes to mind when you consider making a recipe of Chili? I am fascinated with the opinions that surround this meal in a bowl. For some of you, it is probably a bit of this and a bit of that, and you are confident the outcome will feed the family. For others of you, perhaps you are loyal to a time-honored family recipe that is now iconic.

One group of my friends insists on adding cumin; a different constituency would never even consider including celery. Some households serve Chili over rice, while others consider that sacrilegious.

All this fuss over Chili…

My mind returns to Cold War days in Poland when Chili was a complicated project. First, Larry would have to drive to a village, meet a farmer, select a steer, wait for the farmer to kill and butcher the steer, and then drive huge slabs of beef home in the trunk of our car.

This black market process sustained us, since food shortages and government regulations against the private farmer prevented ground beef from even appearing in the stores. And sometimes our family just needed a bowl of Chili (not to mention a hamburger, but this is not about hamburgers.)

The clandestine drive to the village and back to the city meant Larry would arrive home after the children were in bed, and he and I would then labor long hours creating ground beef. We unloaded the car in the garage, and slab-by-slab hauled the would be Chili into our tiny kitchen. Armed with cutting boards and butcher knives, we donned aprons and set to work.

Using a small German made food grinder the size of a one-cup measure, my husband and I ground and froze one chunk of fresh meat after another. Arduous, grueling, tiring hours of work stood between us and a bowl of Chili. But we managed.

Since those Communist days, I have landed my own favorite Chili recipe. It is not from one cookbook (though Betty Crocker is represented), one individual, or even one program on the Food Network. Rather, it is an amalgamation of my own taste testing preferences from across a variety of sources. This combination and these proportions will allow you to take the guesswork out of the process and opinions of others. I call this recipe:

Chili You Can Trust

Ingredients:

2 lbs. ground beef

2 cans tomato sauce (16 oz. each)

2 cans petite-diced tomatoes (16 oz. each)

2 cans Red Kidney beans undrained (16 oz. each)

2 cans Pinto beans undrained (16 oz. each)

Onion, extra large, diced

Celery, 3 long stalks chopped

Garlic 2 t. fresh (buy the small jar of diced garlic in the produce section)

Worchester sauce (2 T.)

McCormick Chili Spice Packet (original,1.25 0z.)

Cumin 1 t. (2t. won’t hurt)

Sugar 1 t. 

Instructions:

Brown the ground meat with onion, celery, and garlic in a large skillet or Dutch Oven.

Drain

While the meat drains, combine all the other ingredients in the same Dutch Oven

Simmer

Return the ground meat to the pot containing the other ingredients and bring to a low simmer

Afterwards, pour into a crock pot and cook for 6 hours on low.

Serve with assorted toppings of cheddar cheese and sour cream. Of course, cornbread is essential, but I will save that for another time. I confidently believe you will enjoy this hearty recipe of Chili.

Living With Eternal Intentionality™

Does your Chili recipe have a history? If so, please share the story with us.