We all have those hideously embarrassing and, therefore, horribly powerful memories from our formative years that stick around like the sand in your floorboard from last year's beach trip.

One of my worst is from the Senior Awards ceremony. They were giving out awards that had been voted on by the whole graduating class. People were getting awards like Most Likely to Succeed, Most Likely to Become Governor, Most Likely to Become a Famous Actor. Graduating 13th in my class and being highly involved in a variety of school activities, I thought I had a shot at getting one. And, boy, did I.

Mary Magdelene.  The woman with seven demons.

Not the shamed but restored woman with the alabaster jar.  Not the wealthy and generous Joanna.  Not even Martha, who was at least productive!

Nope, when I read about women in the bible, it is always Mary Magdelene that I identify with. Whenever I see that description of her in Luke 8:2, I think, “That was me!”  Now, I have no idea what demons she had cast out of her by Jesus, but I definitely know the names of mine:  

Desperation.  Loneliness.  Fear.  Insecurity. Anxiety.  Depression.  Rejection.

I really wish that I could write an amazing account of how these were cast out the moment I became a Christian and never returned, but that would be an outright lie.  I’ve encountered way too many Christians who seem to think that if we are saved, we should never experience these things again, but I think that is complete baloney.  (And if I was talking about the food, I would spell it the other way.)

One of the most shocking things about moving to a new country is the lack of roots.  Some things are obvious and expected, like missing friends and family, the processes of finding a new church home, the excitement and confusion of experiencing a new culture, and the delights and dismay of exploring and adapting to a new gastronomy.  Other things are less anticipated and therefore more surprising: tax systems, laws and regulations, safety expectations, income and spending adjustments, utility billing systems, home repair, and the list goes on and on.  

There is a question that has been dividing serious Christians for roughly 1,600 years, and it comes up whenever someone asks whether pursuing flourishing is faithful or self-focused.

The question is this: how much of the good life is something we pursue, and how much of it is something God produces in us?

It sounds like a modern wellness debate. It is not. It is one of the oldest arguments in the history of Christian thought, and understanding why it has never been fully resolved helps explain something important about why the church tends to be better at helping people survive than helping them thrive.

A paper published this spring in Frontiers in Systems Neuroscience is creating some interesting waves in the world of psychology and neuroscience. The researchers, including scientists from the Flow Research Collective, are pushing back on the popular idea that trauma and pain get physically "stored" in the body. What they are proposing instead is that painful experiences cause the brain to build rigid prediction systems. In other words, the brain learns to expect a threat based on what happened before, and then it keeps running that same forecast even when the conditions have changed.

John 10:10 is one of the most quoted verses in Christian life and, I would argue, one of the most casually read.

I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

We tend to absorb this verse as a general statement of divine goodwill. Jesus is for us. He wants good things for us. He came so that our lives could be full rather than empty. All of that is true, but it is also thin. Because the moment you sit down with the Greek, the verse becomes considerably more specific than the English suggests. And the specificity matters enormously for what it means to be well.

There's a voice that tells you you're not enough. It sounds like conscience. Sometimes it sounds like God. Psychologist E. Tory Higgins called it the ought self, and it produces shame rather than repentance. Here's where it actually comes from, and what Scripture says about the verdict that's already been rendered.

I have never once stood in my laundry room and thought, “This is the abundant life.” I have, however, stood there staring at a pile of damp towels and wondered, “Is this it?”

I have a theory. It is not a peer-reviewed, academically validated, empirically tested theory. It is the kind of theory that comes to you in the shower or halfway through an airport layover when your brain finally has room to breathe. Bear with me.

I call it the Bean Theory.

Have you ever had one of those conversations with someone that frees them and frees you, too? They are talking about something in their own realm of life that has no direct impact on you, but somehow it resonates so deeply with you that you can’t but thank God for the moment of wonder and insight?

We hang our hat on it for a thriving marriage. Why the boldness? Because adventures require commitment, dedication, courage, and tenacity. They force us to grow through challenges, testing our limits to see the extent of our capabilities. They are exciting, surprising, enjoyable, and (usually) a little terrifying. And so is marriage.

Every time I read this scripture, I actually giggle. Paul makes it so simple. Feeling anxious? Don’t be. Just pray. Anyone who has ever battled with anxiety realizes the source of my amusement. Anxiety is anything but simple.

Sometimes we behave as if we are the victim of our thoughts. When we are in an unbalanced state, it is easy to allow our unbridled thoughts and feelings to guide our steps contrary to the direction in which we may desire to go. The longer we continue in the habit of believing that we have no control over our thoughts, the harder it is to reign them in and tame them again.

When was the last time you made a point to savor the Lord? It is so easy in our busy lives to let our faith become perfunctory. If we even take the time to sit down and spend time with Him, so often it can be “productive” time: read this, write that, dig for this, puzzle out that. We get caught up in the doing and not in the being.

Turn and believe. Do you ever forget the “turn” part and move right into the “belief” portion of the call?

I know I do. If I am going on a certain trajectory and I learn something from the Bible, I often layer it on top of my current line of action, and keep chugging forward.