Think with me for a moment, when I say, “Remember what God has done for us”. What is it that comes to your mind?
There are infinite numbers of answers to that question. Even going back to the beginning of time we can remember what God has done. Take a quick journey with me through the Bible to remember what God has done.
In Genesis, he created perfection from nothing, offered a path to life but did not flinch when Adam and Even shunned Him and chose their own way. Instead he gave them mercy, not what they deserved but instead a way to continue their relationship with Him. He pursued relationship with His children from the beginning of time and from the beginning of time was rejected and shunned and denied. It got so bad at one point his just decided to destroy his entire creation with the flood. Oh, but wait, in His great mercy and maybe more out of His great love for His greatest creation, He saved a tiny remnant, Noah and his family.
And time goes on and people don’t change much and God never changes.
Eventually, He created an entire people that would become His chosen from a man that was running from his brother to save his own life. Jacob. And when those people, the Isrealites continually turned away and disobeyed and even sought other Gods, how many times did He call to them and rescue them and even fight for them? Too numerous to count.
Does the story of Hosea ring a bell? This was the very picture of what God himself was doing for his own bride. Hosea 3:1 “The Lord said to me, go show your love to your wife again (who by the way was a prostitute), though she has been loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Isrealites though they turn to other gods…” Hosea 13: 5 “I cared for you in the desert , in the land of burning heat, When I fed them, they were satisfied, they became proud then they forgot me.” We see the calling, the wooing and then the rejection of His love. But yet in Hosea 14: 4 he says (paraphrased_ "I will heal their waywardness and love them freely…. I will be like the dew.. [she] will blossom like a lily…” Do you see it? Of course you do. Is this not a picture of us? Of you and me? So many many years later and people haven’t changed much and God has not changed.
After calling and wooing and pursuing he waited, patiently and quietly until the time of the second perfection created out of nothing. He saw the chasm and the woundedness, the hunger and unsaid longing and knew that the only answer was in His only son, the prince of Heaven, the only worthy lamb. The Lamb. He sent him knowing it would bring the greatest heartbreak Heaven had ever known and the greatest healing the world had ever known. And He looked down then and saw that world was in a turmoil and chose to once again rescue and even fight for us. So, he did the unfathomable. He sent Jesus to enter His creation once again, as He had come in the garden, searching and calling only this time Jesus also came fighting and defeating and winning us back. Remember? He died… in His pursuit of our hearts… for the love of our lives… for the resurrection of His creation… for your healing… for you. He died.
He didn’t just die. He also entered into the very depths of death and took the keys and released the captives and released you and me from the chains once held by darkness and destruction. He then did the unthinkable. He came back, again, through resurrection. Once wasn’t enough. He came back to love on his disciples, so they too could share the love that was overflowing the grave. And they did. From generation to generation it is still continuing on. The love, the grace, the life, the peace, the joy and salvation is continuing on but people haven’t changed much and God never changes and here we are. You and me today.
So, what is it you need to remember? What has this God, your God, our creator Father done for you that He is calling you to remember? Somewhere, wherever you are, write a word or a few words that remind you of that thing, that moment, that time that God was there, that he came through, that He healed or He gifted or He fulfilled that promise. There was once. Write it down.
Do you remember? Do you remember who this God is? Who you are worshiping? What He has done? Do you remember that He loves you?
Do you remember who you were before? Before His entrance into the messy, crumpled, emptiness of your heart? We all do. We all wrestle with the thoughts of who we are and they fall somewhere on the line between unworthy wretch and beautiful princess daughter of the king. The beauty is that truthfully we are both and by grace we can live always both, always flawed but always covered by grace. The beauty is that who He is covers who we are and in Him we become more, always growing, always healing, falling, crying, scraping, burning but also dancing, learning, receiving grace.
I haven’t changed much but my God never changes and I remember the past so I can strengthen my future and my relationship with God is always only a reflection of what He has done. Remember what He has done and who He is. And just as He came to His people over and over and over to woo them, to protect them and to fight for them so it is with you and me. He is coming, He is wooing, He is protecting, He is fighting for us. So, today, remember. remember what God has done for you!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
The Day I Leaned
As it was, you could find me most days in tears. Not all day, but at some point I would cry. If you had asked me why, I would have answered, "Because it is too much, too hard." Life had caved in. I was suffocating. Fear was my friend, anxiety my companion. Struggle was my breath and pain my guide. Each morning dawned daunting, wanting of substance and void of joy.
Somewhere in my depths, in my core, my soul I searched. I knew this wasn't my lot. I knew it wasn't my destiny to be rooted in that place of distance and separation. I knew there was truth buried beneath the rubble of my expectations. I stated aloud that I would choose to dig, dig beneath the broken dreams, the broken hopes and fantasies. I would choose to excavate the shattered depths of my soul to find that truth. The truth that I could be free. The truth that I could be strong. The truth that I could be victorious.
Stating aloud is good although not enough. I worshiped with a pitted, shredded spirit. I eagerly sought the food of the written word and the Word. I tried to eat it's freshness and internalize the sustenance but often left with the hunger pangs still raging in my heart. It was often like eating air.
I trudged through my relationships, friendships, family and church with the demeanor of the crestfallen. I put on my figurative boots in an effort to not give up on the parts of life that I had hoped would help bring healing and restoration and in the meantime found that my boots were getting heavy from the mud of disappointment and abandonment I began to feel.
I knew I was doing the right things. I was searching, speaking, singing, seeking, staying connected, not isolating, telling my secrets to my confidants. And sometimes I would feel the slightest drop of refreshment on my parched soul. Sometimes I would see the slightest glimpse of light through the shattered and muddied pane of my heart. Sometimes I would feel the tiniest prickle of peace in the tumultuous waters of my emotions. But it didn't seem to last.
Then one day it all broke open... again. The sobbing, bleeding, healing, wretched, beautiful cleansing. It was a time I was alone. I was standing, alone. I was crying tears and crying out to God who I loved but wondered where His kindness was. I was crying about my pain and sorrow. I was crying about my confusion and fear. And I found that I couldn't stand. Really. I couldn't stand. My knees began to buckle and I knew that my heart and soul were failing too. I just cried and simply said to the Father, "God, I can't stand on my own any longer. I have nothing. I can only lean on You." And I leaned, literally, on the wall. I leaned and cried and leaned.
The day I leaned... that memory is etched in my forever. My bad didn't end and I wasn't all joy and goodness. My pain wasn't all healed and my fear was not all gone. My sadness wasn't erased and my tears continued to flow. But, the Grace came in. The Forgiveness washed over. The Peace began to illuminate within. The day I leaned I also fell. Fell on Grace and fell on my knees. I left my self on the floor and stood up and leaned again on the Father and the Promise and the Truth.It wasn't the period at the end of the sentence. It was the beginning of the story. The new story.
This story continues. Today my dreams and hopes for the future are thin and wispy and the mirror that reflects the happily ever after from my before is quite shattered. But it is not altogether gone. Today my soul has found a solid place to anchor. I often return to the moment I dropped my self and released my ugly brokenness and fear. I return to remember, to relive the surrender and lean. And I am renewed and reminded of the solid promise of my Father to hold me when I lean.
T
Somewhere in my depths, in my core, my soul I searched. I knew this wasn't my lot. I knew it wasn't my destiny to be rooted in that place of distance and separation. I knew there was truth buried beneath the rubble of my expectations. I stated aloud that I would choose to dig, dig beneath the broken dreams, the broken hopes and fantasies. I would choose to excavate the shattered depths of my soul to find that truth. The truth that I could be free. The truth that I could be strong. The truth that I could be victorious.
Stating aloud is good although not enough. I worshiped with a pitted, shredded spirit. I eagerly sought the food of the written word and the Word. I tried to eat it's freshness and internalize the sustenance but often left with the hunger pangs still raging in my heart. It was often like eating air.
I trudged through my relationships, friendships, family and church with the demeanor of the crestfallen. I put on my figurative boots in an effort to not give up on the parts of life that I had hoped would help bring healing and restoration and in the meantime found that my boots were getting heavy from the mud of disappointment and abandonment I began to feel.
I knew I was doing the right things. I was searching, speaking, singing, seeking, staying connected, not isolating, telling my secrets to my confidants. And sometimes I would feel the slightest drop of refreshment on my parched soul. Sometimes I would see the slightest glimpse of light through the shattered and muddied pane of my heart. Sometimes I would feel the tiniest prickle of peace in the tumultuous waters of my emotions. But it didn't seem to last.
Then one day it all broke open... again. The sobbing, bleeding, healing, wretched, beautiful cleansing. It was a time I was alone. I was standing, alone. I was crying tears and crying out to God who I loved but wondered where His kindness was. I was crying about my pain and sorrow. I was crying about my confusion and fear. And I found that I couldn't stand. Really. I couldn't stand. My knees began to buckle and I knew that my heart and soul were failing too. I just cried and simply said to the Father, "God, I can't stand on my own any longer. I have nothing. I can only lean on You." And I leaned, literally, on the wall. I leaned and cried and leaned.
The day I leaned... that memory is etched in my forever. My bad didn't end and I wasn't all joy and goodness. My pain wasn't all healed and my fear was not all gone. My sadness wasn't erased and my tears continued to flow. But, the Grace came in. The Forgiveness washed over. The Peace began to illuminate within. The day I leaned I also fell. Fell on Grace and fell on my knees. I left my self on the floor and stood up and leaned again on the Father and the Promise and the Truth.It wasn't the period at the end of the sentence. It was the beginning of the story. The new story.
This story continues. Today my dreams and hopes for the future are thin and wispy and the mirror that reflects the happily ever after from my before is quite shattered. But it is not altogether gone. Today my soul has found a solid place to anchor. I often return to the moment I dropped my self and released my ugly brokenness and fear. I return to remember, to relive the surrender and lean. And I am renewed and reminded of the solid promise of my Father to hold me when I lean.
T
Monday, January 30, 2012
My Fear- Wrecked Heart.
I wake. Sickeningly aware of my heart. Or is it my stomach? Lurching with unspoken thoughts and feelings.
The warm, sweet, smell good baby that sleepily nurses next to me, is it a salve to my aching? He sweetly sighs, receiving nourishment and warmth from me and his curved body radiates with trust. I don't reciprocate. Instead, my insides are screaming so loudly for healing- for a balm to soothe the pain.
I feel, see, my heart laid bare. Pulverized by the mallet of fear. Somehow, I know how, I will never forget how, the harpoon of fear shot right into my soul, my mind. And the barb flashed open so it could not be yanked or pried or even slowly removed. Instead it settled deep. The remedy is to cut the dead away from the barb and leave the ragged bleeding flesh still impaled and attached - just take the bits that are left still somewhat alive and try to piece it back together.
Do I want to try? It seems the wound is so tender to the touch. Every time I try to pull the barb away, even a little, it just gushes and bleeds. Pain. And fear seeps out into my life stream and infiltrates my being. Head to toe, inside to outside, fully filling my head, my heart, my body. There must be a remedy, a potion - something to ease the suffering. No, Please,- something to heal! Is it possible? Dare I hope to see myself without that harpoon impaling my heart? Dare I hope for wholeness? Even joy?
Hope is far away but I know I must fight or the wound will fester and beat me. So, I seek like one who has lost a great treasure. No, like a traveler in a desert parched for a drop of water. Yes, parched for a drop of joy, a drop of peace, a drop of freedom. I seek and trudge through miles of aloneness. Miles of emptiness. Miles of mirages. These are the worst. The mirages that don't bring true hopes- just dash them away. Those moments of reprieve for my soul. They seem to come and I hope they will stay but then I open my eyes and wake again to see my fear wrecked heart and the mirage oasis fades away.
I fight to stay alive, not to win. Someday I will fight to win. Someday my being alive will be the triumph, the victory, the joy. So I will fight.
I must drink to stay alive. I must find water. So, I worship. Worship drips from my mouth and into my thirsty, cracked spirit. It is not a weapon, it is sustenance. The music soothes. The words heal and the Worshipped One becomes the true Oasis of soul quenching, living water. I drink, sip by sip, not gulp by gulp. I sip from His hand and I sing to His heart.
He must look at my fear impaled heart with sadness and empathy. But, knowing my struggle to get free will make me stronger, He doesn't say, "Here, let me rescue you" - that is my wish. Instead, He says, "Come near. Let me hold your hand. Let me hold you. I will be near and I have the balm to soothe the sting. You will fight. I will stand guard. You will fight. I will be near to replenish your waning strength. Don't give up for when the fight ends, and it will, we will be known to each other like intimate friends and your strength will return and the wound will close and we will walk and run and fly together." It is a promise.
I reach out from a place I don't know to gather in the strength of this Creator Friend. It comes in very small doses. Just enough for one battle at a time, not enough for the raging war.
And I am hungry. I starve for the Bread of Life. A morsel, not a buffet or gourmet dessert. Just a crust, something to give nourishment to my blood, my body. So I can put one foot in front of the other and not fade away. I find it. The Word of God is alive and is wholesome food, organic, changing, healing food. Bit by bit I nibble, famished but not gluttonous. I nibble the crumbs that become my banquet. I lift my eyes up, my help comes from the Lord. I taste and see that He is good. The new mercies go down like sweet honey and juicy fruit. New every morning.
So, I eat and I drink and the bleeding stops for a moment but the tears still come. They fall on my cheeks, on my baby's cheeks and I feel a glimmer of thankfulness. For what? For the food and the water and the mercies- my children, my family. The mercy memories of times before. Times of wholeness before. They come as memories and as hope. They remind me I can do more - no - I AM more. More than a bleeding and poured out spirit. They give me purpose - to wake and eat and drink and fight and heal.
They help me heal. I see the innocent smiles, the laughter, the adventure and hope and I musn't let my injury interfere. So I choose to fight and heal. I must overcome the lurking enemy to help protect their hearts from the same fate. I love them and the love brings a soothing. They love me and it brings my sweet dessert. I look into their eyes and though I am afraid, with crippling fear, I can't help but think and see the future - a future for them. I want a future with smiles, and dancing and singing and playing and seeking and treasure and adventure.
Today I am not near that hope. The future is far, so far away. Today I am still gutted. Today I am still bobbing in the sea, so far from shore and faith.
But I fix my eyes on the Creator of the shore, the Author of my faith, the Finisher of my story. And I breathe. In and out.
At least my eyes are open today and my hands will find their tasks and my eyes will see sweet smiles. My ears will hear ringing laughter and my arms will hold warm bodies. And maybe tomorrow it will feel real or maybe tomorrow my heart lurching will stop. Maybe tomorrow the barb will come loose and I will be free. Maybe not tomorrow. Someday.
The warm, sweet, smell good baby that sleepily nurses next to me, is it a salve to my aching? He sweetly sighs, receiving nourishment and warmth from me and his curved body radiates with trust. I don't reciprocate. Instead, my insides are screaming so loudly for healing- for a balm to soothe the pain.
I feel, see, my heart laid bare. Pulverized by the mallet of fear. Somehow, I know how, I will never forget how, the harpoon of fear shot right into my soul, my mind. And the barb flashed open so it could not be yanked or pried or even slowly removed. Instead it settled deep. The remedy is to cut the dead away from the barb and leave the ragged bleeding flesh still impaled and attached - just take the bits that are left still somewhat alive and try to piece it back together.
Do I want to try? It seems the wound is so tender to the touch. Every time I try to pull the barb away, even a little, it just gushes and bleeds. Pain. And fear seeps out into my life stream and infiltrates my being. Head to toe, inside to outside, fully filling my head, my heart, my body. There must be a remedy, a potion - something to ease the suffering. No, Please,- something to heal! Is it possible? Dare I hope to see myself without that harpoon impaling my heart? Dare I hope for wholeness? Even joy?
Hope is far away but I know I must fight or the wound will fester and beat me. So, I seek like one who has lost a great treasure. No, like a traveler in a desert parched for a drop of water. Yes, parched for a drop of joy, a drop of peace, a drop of freedom. I seek and trudge through miles of aloneness. Miles of emptiness. Miles of mirages. These are the worst. The mirages that don't bring true hopes- just dash them away. Those moments of reprieve for my soul. They seem to come and I hope they will stay but then I open my eyes and wake again to see my fear wrecked heart and the mirage oasis fades away.
I fight to stay alive, not to win. Someday I will fight to win. Someday my being alive will be the triumph, the victory, the joy. So I will fight.
I must drink to stay alive. I must find water. So, I worship. Worship drips from my mouth and into my thirsty, cracked spirit. It is not a weapon, it is sustenance. The music soothes. The words heal and the Worshipped One becomes the true Oasis of soul quenching, living water. I drink, sip by sip, not gulp by gulp. I sip from His hand and I sing to His heart.
He must look at my fear impaled heart with sadness and empathy. But, knowing my struggle to get free will make me stronger, He doesn't say, "Here, let me rescue you" - that is my wish. Instead, He says, "Come near. Let me hold your hand. Let me hold you. I will be near and I have the balm to soothe the sting. You will fight. I will stand guard. You will fight. I will be near to replenish your waning strength. Don't give up for when the fight ends, and it will, we will be known to each other like intimate friends and your strength will return and the wound will close and we will walk and run and fly together." It is a promise.
I reach out from a place I don't know to gather in the strength of this Creator Friend. It comes in very small doses. Just enough for one battle at a time, not enough for the raging war.
And I am hungry. I starve for the Bread of Life. A morsel, not a buffet or gourmet dessert. Just a crust, something to give nourishment to my blood, my body. So I can put one foot in front of the other and not fade away. I find it. The Word of God is alive and is wholesome food, organic, changing, healing food. Bit by bit I nibble, famished but not gluttonous. I nibble the crumbs that become my banquet. I lift my eyes up, my help comes from the Lord. I taste and see that He is good. The new mercies go down like sweet honey and juicy fruit. New every morning.
So, I eat and I drink and the bleeding stops for a moment but the tears still come. They fall on my cheeks, on my baby's cheeks and I feel a glimmer of thankfulness. For what? For the food and the water and the mercies- my children, my family. The mercy memories of times before. Times of wholeness before. They come as memories and as hope. They remind me I can do more - no - I AM more. More than a bleeding and poured out spirit. They give me purpose - to wake and eat and drink and fight and heal.
They help me heal. I see the innocent smiles, the laughter, the adventure and hope and I musn't let my injury interfere. So I choose to fight and heal. I must overcome the lurking enemy to help protect their hearts from the same fate. I love them and the love brings a soothing. They love me and it brings my sweet dessert. I look into their eyes and though I am afraid, with crippling fear, I can't help but think and see the future - a future for them. I want a future with smiles, and dancing and singing and playing and seeking and treasure and adventure.
Today I am not near that hope. The future is far, so far away. Today I am still gutted. Today I am still bobbing in the sea, so far from shore and faith.
But I fix my eyes on the Creator of the shore, the Author of my faith, the Finisher of my story. And I breathe. In and out.
At least my eyes are open today and my hands will find their tasks and my eyes will see sweet smiles. My ears will hear ringing laughter and my arms will hold warm bodies. And maybe tomorrow it will feel real or maybe tomorrow my heart lurching will stop. Maybe tomorrow the barb will come loose and I will be free. Maybe not tomorrow. Someday.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tragedy, Tears and Truth
Today I cried again. I think I've cried every day for about a week now. My heart is hurting and I feel shaken and wobbly. And all of this has nothing to do with me or even my family.
Last week my friends' toddler fell into a backyard pool and nearly drowned. To someone on the outside this is cause for saying, "You poor thing", "Bless your heart", "Oh, that's so sad", or "So tragic, I will be praying". And as well and good as all this is - it is not what I said. In fact, I didn't say anything at first. Granted, I didn't actually hear of this tragedy first hand. I got the news through an email. (I should note here: these are past friends that time and life situations have distanced from our close-knit friendship yet they still hold a comfortable and welcome place in our hearts). Even still my first thoughts weren't hardly even thoughts. It was more of an all encompassing sinking,falling, getting the wind knocked out of me, nauseated sort of feeling. Accompanied quickly by the mad scramble of my brain working to figure out- "what do I do with this?".
The tears flowed freely and in waves, spurred by my mother-heart empathy. My first inclination, besides utter despair, was to figure out if I could actually, physically, do anything for them. In all reality the answer was and still is an echoing "no".
So, sitting with empty hands and a cracked and bleeding heart all I could do was pray (and cry) and pray. That's exactly what I did - constantly. Just under my breath, while I went about my day, in worship, in song, in words, in thoughts, with my eyes open, with my eyes shut, with my hands lifted, with my hands clenched, with my hands in dishwater. I prayed.
Of course, the prayers started out with questions, "Why?", "How?", "Where were the angels?", "Why didn't God do something?", "Why them?". There were no answers. So, my heart followed the silence with cries for mercy. "If not then- please NOW! Save him now! Make it right!" In the immediacy it all seemed hopeless. This precious, innocent life was hanging in the balance. A ventilator his link to life.
I didn't know it then but this tragedy was entering my life at a ripe time for my heart to grow. Would I let it?
Hours that seemed like days passed slowly. My head and heart felt as though a thick and somewhat debilitating fog had settled over them. I began to feel like the weight of this situation was encompassing me, pulling me down, consuming my thoughts and hindering me from my basic and God-given priorities. It didn't make sense. I couldn't reconcile the fact that this was something so deeply impacting but yet it wasn't my trial. I couldn't get it out of my head or my heart as I carried the empathy laden heartache.
I found myself checking emails, facebook, text messages hourly, sometimes more, just searching for information, hope, some glimpse of what was happening so I could feel connected to this trauma that had already broken my heart. It didn't make sense that something so far removed from me was already embedding so deeply into my life. It was becoming a focus, a driving force. This deep force was pushing me headlong into very powerful prayer. Prayer like I haven't experienced in a very long time. Prayer that caused me to believe I was approaching the very feet of Jesus. Prayers that I actually felt God might hear and answer. Prayers that came from a deep and rarely tapped place in my soul.
This time of soul wrenching not only produced an invigorated prayer life but also questions. Of course, the questions I spoke of earlier but also questions of my own human limitations. Questions like, "What about my children", "How can I protect my family?" and questions about my spiritual condition like, "How do I carry this burden?", "How do I pray?", "What do I believe?".
Wrestling with these questions and the intense burden caused me to remain down, despairing and mostly inaccessible to those closest to me, namely my children and husband. Somehow I knew this wasn't right or good but I also knew praying and caring was. So, I had to momentarily change my prayers to, "God, how can I carry this and be pleasing to you and be the wife and mom you want me to be?"
You know that deep abiding peace and warmth that begins in your inner most soul and spreads so slowly yet instantly into your physical mind and body? Well, if you don't, just imagine what it's like to come inside from a winter blizzard and sit with your hands and feet facing a warm and sizzling fire. You feel it thawing you slowly, but instantly you feel the warmth and comfort. That is exactly how my answer came - "This is not YOUR valley". God was showing me that this wasn't my valley of despair. These weren't my questions to have answers to and they weren't even my questions to ask. I had to trust that God was walking with my friends through their valley and He would one day bring them back up the mountainside to the top! It wasn't fair but that didn't matter. God doesn't work in ways that are fair. He gives us the amount of strength and grace we need for the valley we are in - not enough to walk through someone else's valley. Ahhhhh, my eyes were open, my soul was lighter, I could see clearly the path before me.
I continued to pray and even feel the burden for this precious family but I no longer carried the despair. I ached for their experiences. I ached that they had to walk this valley. But I rejoiced that God was with them. I rejoiced that He promised to never leave them. I rested in the fact that I wasn't in that valley right now. I rested in the knowledge that God was with me where I was. My prayers did not cease. They did not decrease in fervency or frequency. They continued strong and steadfast in belief but I no longer carried the burden as if it were mine; I no longer allowed to it to consume me heart and soul. I began to realize that I did believe in miracles! I did believe in a loving, involved God!
Which brings me to explain my earlier statement. My heart was ripe for growth. This was a test of sorts. A test of my faith, my belief system and how deep my relationship with God was. You see, in the recent past most of these ideas had started to become vague to me. I wasn't sure I believed much anymore. I had come to the edge of my faith walk and was contemplating taking the plunge right off - not into faithlessness but into that place that believed there was a God but He wasn't involved, didn't care and had removed His hand from the lives of His creation. It was a very precarious time. I wandered, teetered, and slipped from time to time as I searched for the path that I could believe was true. Deep down inside me I knew that truth was truth but I wasn't sure exactly what that looked like. Eventually, through some Godly friends and a lot of prayer and searching and some just basic decision making I came to the end of my journey. I had decided that if I don't believe in the faith I have always had, then it's not faith at all. So, I had decided that I would continue to search for the God I once knew. The God that brought joy to His creation. The God that healed, answered prayers, prepared plans for His children and lead them in the way of righteousness.
Sure, I decided this but now I had to live it. That is a completely different story. I sure didn't feel like things had changed. I had made a decision but my heart was stalling in completely accepting the journey to pursue a deep and meaningful relationship with Jesus. Over time the relationship did grow and and the faith issue I had settled seemed to begin to take root. I have since felt much growth, continued to pursue that relationship rooted belief in a God that is involved. My heart has felt God's hand from time to time and in the tiniest of ways.
All this is to say that the tragic events in my friend's life and the forceful plunge into prayer that it created in my life, has renewed my weak and growing faith. I have seen their strength and been encouraged. I have prayed and prayed, which has brought me into the throne room of the Most High God. I have cried and cried which has purged the unbelief from my heart. I have begun to expect, yes, expect a miracle and believe that God sees. That He is near and that He cares.
I think if it had not been for this tragic turn of events, albeit in someone else's life, my faith may have stayed a bit stagnant and untapped. I think I may have decided to become comfortable with mediocre. To just stay in the comfortable place of saved but not invested.
Don't get me wrong. I surely do not believe God caused this event for my personal growth - that's just not how it works. However, because this bad thing happened I had a choice. I had a choice to either let it mame my faith or bolster it. I chose and choose to let it bolster my faith. What satan means for bad, God can use for good!
Today this precious baby has shown many signs of miraculous healing. He is off the ventilator, he is starting to respond with smiles and laughs. He is starting to eat a bit of solid food. These are awesome and true miracles! However, he is still struggling to overcome the limitations of some brain damage. This family is still dealing with issues that come of such a tragedy. They are still in the throws of complete physical, emotional, mental and spiritual investment in the situation. Their family is still in the valley. And, because of the revelation and growth that God my Father has begun in me, I still choose to remember them in my prayers, daily, hourly even! I choose to bolster my faith, to energize my prayer life, to carry a burden that isn't mine to the feet of Jesus, because He cares, He sees, He is near, He does miracles and because I believe!
Today I cried. I cried tears of pain and sadness out of empathy for my friend. Today I cried tears of joy for a Heavenly Father that is carrying their family through the valley. And today I don't feel shaken, I feel strong and encouraged and ready to walk along side them in prayer. Today I believe!
Last week my friends' toddler fell into a backyard pool and nearly drowned. To someone on the outside this is cause for saying, "You poor thing", "Bless your heart", "Oh, that's so sad", or "So tragic, I will be praying". And as well and good as all this is - it is not what I said. In fact, I didn't say anything at first. Granted, I didn't actually hear of this tragedy first hand. I got the news through an email. (I should note here: these are past friends that time and life situations have distanced from our close-knit friendship yet they still hold a comfortable and welcome place in our hearts). Even still my first thoughts weren't hardly even thoughts. It was more of an all encompassing sinking,falling, getting the wind knocked out of me, nauseated sort of feeling. Accompanied quickly by the mad scramble of my brain working to figure out- "what do I do with this?".
The tears flowed freely and in waves, spurred by my mother-heart empathy. My first inclination, besides utter despair, was to figure out if I could actually, physically, do anything for them. In all reality the answer was and still is an echoing "no".
So, sitting with empty hands and a cracked and bleeding heart all I could do was pray (and cry) and pray. That's exactly what I did - constantly. Just under my breath, while I went about my day, in worship, in song, in words, in thoughts, with my eyes open, with my eyes shut, with my hands lifted, with my hands clenched, with my hands in dishwater. I prayed.
Of course, the prayers started out with questions, "Why?", "How?", "Where were the angels?", "Why didn't God do something?", "Why them?". There were no answers. So, my heart followed the silence with cries for mercy. "If not then- please NOW! Save him now! Make it right!" In the immediacy it all seemed hopeless. This precious, innocent life was hanging in the balance. A ventilator his link to life.
I didn't know it then but this tragedy was entering my life at a ripe time for my heart to grow. Would I let it?
Hours that seemed like days passed slowly. My head and heart felt as though a thick and somewhat debilitating fog had settled over them. I began to feel like the weight of this situation was encompassing me, pulling me down, consuming my thoughts and hindering me from my basic and God-given priorities. It didn't make sense. I couldn't reconcile the fact that this was something so deeply impacting but yet it wasn't my trial. I couldn't get it out of my head or my heart as I carried the empathy laden heartache.
I found myself checking emails, facebook, text messages hourly, sometimes more, just searching for information, hope, some glimpse of what was happening so I could feel connected to this trauma that had already broken my heart. It didn't make sense that something so far removed from me was already embedding so deeply into my life. It was becoming a focus, a driving force. This deep force was pushing me headlong into very powerful prayer. Prayer like I haven't experienced in a very long time. Prayer that caused me to believe I was approaching the very feet of Jesus. Prayers that I actually felt God might hear and answer. Prayers that came from a deep and rarely tapped place in my soul.
This time of soul wrenching not only produced an invigorated prayer life but also questions. Of course, the questions I spoke of earlier but also questions of my own human limitations. Questions like, "What about my children", "How can I protect my family?" and questions about my spiritual condition like, "How do I carry this burden?", "How do I pray?", "What do I believe?".
Wrestling with these questions and the intense burden caused me to remain down, despairing and mostly inaccessible to those closest to me, namely my children and husband. Somehow I knew this wasn't right or good but I also knew praying and caring was. So, I had to momentarily change my prayers to, "God, how can I carry this and be pleasing to you and be the wife and mom you want me to be?"
You know that deep abiding peace and warmth that begins in your inner most soul and spreads so slowly yet instantly into your physical mind and body? Well, if you don't, just imagine what it's like to come inside from a winter blizzard and sit with your hands and feet facing a warm and sizzling fire. You feel it thawing you slowly, but instantly you feel the warmth and comfort. That is exactly how my answer came - "This is not YOUR valley". God was showing me that this wasn't my valley of despair. These weren't my questions to have answers to and they weren't even my questions to ask. I had to trust that God was walking with my friends through their valley and He would one day bring them back up the mountainside to the top! It wasn't fair but that didn't matter. God doesn't work in ways that are fair. He gives us the amount of strength and grace we need for the valley we are in - not enough to walk through someone else's valley. Ahhhhh, my eyes were open, my soul was lighter, I could see clearly the path before me.
I continued to pray and even feel the burden for this precious family but I no longer carried the despair. I ached for their experiences. I ached that they had to walk this valley. But I rejoiced that God was with them. I rejoiced that He promised to never leave them. I rested in the fact that I wasn't in that valley right now. I rested in the knowledge that God was with me where I was. My prayers did not cease. They did not decrease in fervency or frequency. They continued strong and steadfast in belief but I no longer carried the burden as if it were mine; I no longer allowed to it to consume me heart and soul. I began to realize that I did believe in miracles! I did believe in a loving, involved God!
Which brings me to explain my earlier statement. My heart was ripe for growth. This was a test of sorts. A test of my faith, my belief system and how deep my relationship with God was. You see, in the recent past most of these ideas had started to become vague to me. I wasn't sure I believed much anymore. I had come to the edge of my faith walk and was contemplating taking the plunge right off - not into faithlessness but into that place that believed there was a God but He wasn't involved, didn't care and had removed His hand from the lives of His creation. It was a very precarious time. I wandered, teetered, and slipped from time to time as I searched for the path that I could believe was true. Deep down inside me I knew that truth was truth but I wasn't sure exactly what that looked like. Eventually, through some Godly friends and a lot of prayer and searching and some just basic decision making I came to the end of my journey. I had decided that if I don't believe in the faith I have always had, then it's not faith at all. So, I had decided that I would continue to search for the God I once knew. The God that brought joy to His creation. The God that healed, answered prayers, prepared plans for His children and lead them in the way of righteousness.
Sure, I decided this but now I had to live it. That is a completely different story. I sure didn't feel like things had changed. I had made a decision but my heart was stalling in completely accepting the journey to pursue a deep and meaningful relationship with Jesus. Over time the relationship did grow and and the faith issue I had settled seemed to begin to take root. I have since felt much growth, continued to pursue that relationship rooted belief in a God that is involved. My heart has felt God's hand from time to time and in the tiniest of ways.
All this is to say that the tragic events in my friend's life and the forceful plunge into prayer that it created in my life, has renewed my weak and growing faith. I have seen their strength and been encouraged. I have prayed and prayed, which has brought me into the throne room of the Most High God. I have cried and cried which has purged the unbelief from my heart. I have begun to expect, yes, expect a miracle and believe that God sees. That He is near and that He cares.
I think if it had not been for this tragic turn of events, albeit in someone else's life, my faith may have stayed a bit stagnant and untapped. I think I may have decided to become comfortable with mediocre. To just stay in the comfortable place of saved but not invested.
Don't get me wrong. I surely do not believe God caused this event for my personal growth - that's just not how it works. However, because this bad thing happened I had a choice. I had a choice to either let it mame my faith or bolster it. I chose and choose to let it bolster my faith. What satan means for bad, God can use for good!
Today this precious baby has shown many signs of miraculous healing. He is off the ventilator, he is starting to respond with smiles and laughs. He is starting to eat a bit of solid food. These are awesome and true miracles! However, he is still struggling to overcome the limitations of some brain damage. This family is still dealing with issues that come of such a tragedy. They are still in the throws of complete physical, emotional, mental and spiritual investment in the situation. Their family is still in the valley. And, because of the revelation and growth that God my Father has begun in me, I still choose to remember them in my prayers, daily, hourly even! I choose to bolster my faith, to energize my prayer life, to carry a burden that isn't mine to the feet of Jesus, because He cares, He sees, He is near, He does miracles and because I believe!
Today I cried. I cried tears of pain and sadness out of empathy for my friend. Today I cried tears of joy for a Heavenly Father that is carrying their family through the valley. And today I don't feel shaken, I feel strong and encouraged and ready to walk along side them in prayer. Today I believe!
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Ugly Moments
Yesterday was one of those. An "ugly moment". More like an ugly day. I succumbed to it. It started out to be a great day! We slept in and had a fun family cuddle time before we all got out of bed. It was so nice. The morning was slow and boring. (Side note: boring is bad- a person is more likely to give in to sin when they are bored). So, because I was bored I thought I'd play a little Wii. I started to play table tennis and my husband wanted to join me. I had it set in practice mode so I could earn some extra points. I don't play that often and am not that good. However, my hubby is good at it. We sat down to play and I hit a few balls and then missed and was out. It was his turn. He hit over 100 balls while I waited and waited and waited for my next turn. Finally, he missed and was out. My turn. I hit 11 balls, missed and was out. His turn. He hit over 100 balls. I waited and waited.... Well, you get the idea. This was no fun. Unfortunately, this experience triggered a whole spiral down into the depths of self deprivation. I began to feel stupid and inadequate.
I left the room and went about my household tasks of ironing and laundry. The house was quiet and I was alone upstairs so my mind just kept slipping down that slippery slope. I began to feel that my family didn't want to be around me, they didn't care where I was. I started thinking I was dumb and talentless. I started to throw myself a big pity party with all my feelings as my friends. I invited Tears, Sadness, Loneliness, Lies, Depression, and all of their colleagues to this pity party.
Later, I took a walk, alone. It was a warm, sunny day. I began to feel a little better as the sun warmed my face and the brisk walk got my blood pumping through my body. I realized that I was highly emotional today and it was obviously a response to hormone changes in my body. (There is a pattern here- every month I have a day like this). I spent a little time praying, although I admit, it was hard to pray when I felt so awful so it wasn't much of a prayer. It looked more like an invitation for God to join my pity party. I asked why I haven't been getting what I want, why I've had to wait so long for things in my life. I told him what I wanted and asked him to hurry up and help. I guess talking to God is never a bad thing and I think it might have been helpful but it was not healing.
I laid in the sunshine and I think that helped too. By the time I finished my walk around the block and got home I felt a lot better but I was fighting. I was truly fighting to feel better. After the kids were down for their naps I sat and had a little chat with my hubby. I told him how I felt and although he lovingly said I shouldn't feel that way because it wasn't true and that he loved me very much, it didn't just magically take my feelings away.
We spent some time outside with the kids before time to go to church and one of my neighbor friends was out there too. I invited her to go to church with us. She accepted. So, off we went. I started wondering if that was such a good idea since I was not really in a "churchy" mood. But, once we got to church and I started to worship I started to feel the peace of God. I still had the feelings inside of me but I enjoyed the presence of God. The pastor encouraged us to let God into every part of our heart and life, into the places we may not have invited Him before. Now, I've been a Christian for a long time and I have heard that statement 100 times a more. And I have said those words 100 times or more but this time I was thinking about the place in my life that caused me to feel the way I was feeling. I invited Him to take over my hormones and my feelings. Again, no magical cure but every little step upward was helping.
I don't remember if it was a song or something the pastor said but I started to realize that my feelings were telling me what to believe. My feelings were telling me to believe that I was stupid, less than, talentless, ugly and more. It was time for my beliefs to tell my feelings what to feel! That is faith! That is the truth of God!
During communion I repented for letting my feelings tell me to believe lies. I asked God and my husband to forgive me for giving in to the lies and behaving as though I was not God's creation. As I accepted their forgiveness I felt light again. I felt life returning to me. I felt joy returning to my heart.
I realize that feelings are real. They are there for a reason. Usually, they are circumstantial. But, feelings are not wrong or right. What I do with those feelings is what becomes wrong or right. How I respond to what I feel is where I have the opportunity to be a woman of excellence or just plain mediocrity. I know that more "ugly moments" will come but this time I will not be caught unaware. I am armed with faith and truth and hopefully the next time the ugly moment visits it won't take all day for me to defeat it. I chose yesterday to accept my feelings for what they are- fleeting feelings. I chose yesterday to strive to live what I believe and not what I feel.
I left the room and went about my household tasks of ironing and laundry. The house was quiet and I was alone upstairs so my mind just kept slipping down that slippery slope. I began to feel that my family didn't want to be around me, they didn't care where I was. I started thinking I was dumb and talentless. I started to throw myself a big pity party with all my feelings as my friends. I invited Tears, Sadness, Loneliness, Lies, Depression, and all of their colleagues to this pity party.
Later, I took a walk, alone. It was a warm, sunny day. I began to feel a little better as the sun warmed my face and the brisk walk got my blood pumping through my body. I realized that I was highly emotional today and it was obviously a response to hormone changes in my body. (There is a pattern here- every month I have a day like this). I spent a little time praying, although I admit, it was hard to pray when I felt so awful so it wasn't much of a prayer. It looked more like an invitation for God to join my pity party. I asked why I haven't been getting what I want, why I've had to wait so long for things in my life. I told him what I wanted and asked him to hurry up and help. I guess talking to God is never a bad thing and I think it might have been helpful but it was not healing.
I laid in the sunshine and I think that helped too. By the time I finished my walk around the block and got home I felt a lot better but I was fighting. I was truly fighting to feel better. After the kids were down for their naps I sat and had a little chat with my hubby. I told him how I felt and although he lovingly said I shouldn't feel that way because it wasn't true and that he loved me very much, it didn't just magically take my feelings away.
We spent some time outside with the kids before time to go to church and one of my neighbor friends was out there too. I invited her to go to church with us. She accepted. So, off we went. I started wondering if that was such a good idea since I was not really in a "churchy" mood. But, once we got to church and I started to worship I started to feel the peace of God. I still had the feelings inside of me but I enjoyed the presence of God. The pastor encouraged us to let God into every part of our heart and life, into the places we may not have invited Him before. Now, I've been a Christian for a long time and I have heard that statement 100 times a more. And I have said those words 100 times or more but this time I was thinking about the place in my life that caused me to feel the way I was feeling. I invited Him to take over my hormones and my feelings. Again, no magical cure but every little step upward was helping.
I don't remember if it was a song or something the pastor said but I started to realize that my feelings were telling me what to believe. My feelings were telling me to believe that I was stupid, less than, talentless, ugly and more. It was time for my beliefs to tell my feelings what to feel! That is faith! That is the truth of God!
During communion I repented for letting my feelings tell me to believe lies. I asked God and my husband to forgive me for giving in to the lies and behaving as though I was not God's creation. As I accepted their forgiveness I felt light again. I felt life returning to me. I felt joy returning to my heart.
I realize that feelings are real. They are there for a reason. Usually, they are circumstantial. But, feelings are not wrong or right. What I do with those feelings is what becomes wrong or right. How I respond to what I feel is where I have the opportunity to be a woman of excellence or just plain mediocrity. I know that more "ugly moments" will come but this time I will not be caught unaware. I am armed with faith and truth and hopefully the next time the ugly moment visits it won't take all day for me to defeat it. I chose yesterday to accept my feelings for what they are- fleeting feelings. I chose yesterday to strive to live what I believe and not what I feel.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Fear of Man or Trust in God
The other day I was reading in Exodus about Moses. Most of us have grown up hearing the story of bravery, heroism, and righteousness. Truly Moses was a great patriarch in our faith. He was a man of God and was a vessel used in many miraculous ways. However, I was a little stunned at the revelation I saw in the scriptures when I read these passages again. Exodus 3:2-4... "Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So, Moses thought, 'I will go over and see this strange sight- why the bush does not burn up.' When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, 'Moses! Moses!' And Moses said, 'Here I am.'" Moses was obviously brave. He didn't turn and run when the voice from the bush spoke. He didn't douse it with water when it was on fire. He simply said, "Here I am". I think Moses had enough of a history and relationship with God to know whom he was speaking to. In the continuing verses God and Moses continue a dialog. It seems Moses wasn't ready to just say, "Yes God, I will go" but His trust in God was also very great so he didn't say, "No" either. Further on in the chapter Moses asks God, "What if they don't believe me?" So God proceeds to show Moses several signs.The first sign is in Chapter 4 beginning in verse 2. "God said, 'What is in your hand?', 'A staff' [Moses] replied. The Lord said, 'Throw it on the ground.' Moses threw it on the ground and it became a snake and he ran from it. Then the Lord said to him, 'Reach out and take it by the tail.' So Moses reached out and took hold of the snake and it turned back into a staff in his hand." Obviously Moses trusted God enough to reach out and grab a snake by the tail, one that he had just run away in fear from. That's a lot of trust!
God then told Moses to put his hand inside his cloak. Moses did and when he pulled it out it was covered with leprosy, one of the most devastating and worst diseases in that day. God told him to put his hand back into his cloak. Moses did and his hand was healed. Obviously Moses trusted God to heal him of the greatest incurable disease of his time.
But as we read on Moses starts to get nervous. Even after God showed him signs and wonders. Even after God told him the complete plan. Even after God said, "I Am the I Am". Even after God said, "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the Lord?" (Exodus 4:11). Moses' response is, "...please send someone else to do it." This is where we see Moses' weakness. His fear of man.
Moses' fear of man outweighed his trust in God. When it was just Moses and God, Moses seemed to have limitless faith to obey and trust. But as soon as God mentioned speaking in front of a powerful man, Moses became weak and scared. This made me think about my own faith. When it's just God and me in the quiet, safe places, my faith seems to grow and I feel strong and confident but as soon I leave that place and go out into the world I see myself growing fearful. "What will they think?", "How will they respond?". "What if they reject me?", "Do I really have the answers to their questions?", "What if I don't know what to say?", "What if they say something that hurts me?". All of these questions represent a fear of man.
Proverbs 29:25 says, "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe." The fear of man seeps into our lives in every area, in every facet of our lives. It doesn't just apply to witnessing or talking to others. It is in our behavior, our thoughts, our relationships. All of us have a line where our trust in God diminishes and our fear of man takes over. Where is the line in your life?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
God in the Heart of a Father
I was inspired by a friend's statement. She said, "Maybe it was your father's behavior that helped you not respond in the 'normal' ways." Out of context that doesn't really make sense. Read on.Sparing many details that span many years I will begin by telling you that some very sad, even abusive things happened to me when I was a child. Things that should never happen to a young girl. Suffice it to say, inappropriate touching happened. A person within the family took advantage of my childhood innocence. I was so young I really didn't understand. As it continued over many years I learned it was not right. So, eventually I stood up for myself and put a stop to the inappropriate behavior. Thankfully, it worked and those events stopped.
Now, truthfully, I should be scarred, wounded, angry, bitter, hateful, suffer from low self-esteem and possibly depression etc. But I don't. For many years I held the secret inside, I told no one, but instead of letting it eat at me and keep my wounds open I decided to choose the path of forgiveness. To make a long story short, I forgave. Forgetting is impossible. Strong boundaries are in place but my heart is free.
Over the years I have shared some of my story with a few people. Sometimes I believe it has been helpful. A lot of times I get the look that says, "You're lying. You must be in denial. There's no way you can be okay." Truth is, many people who experience what I did end up that way; bitter, angry and not okay. I was sharing with one of my closest friends the other day. I had previously told her the whole story of those events in my childhood. This time I was telling her about the responses I was getting to my story. I remembered the first time I told her. She gave me that look. I asked her about it. "So, why did you look at me like I was lying when I told you that I was healed and okay? That I had forgiven and was walking in freedom?" She said, "I really didn't believe that was possible after such horrific experiences. But, as I've gotten to know you over the years and I've watched how you live your life. I believe you now."
As our conversation continued we explored the importance of a daddy's relationship with his daughter. I grew up with an absolutely loving, wonderful daddy. Even though he didn't know what had happened in secret, he offered healing words. I remember hearing him telling me I was a beautiful young lady, that he was proud of me. He protected me, he loved me, he accepted me. He forgave me. He was an example of Jesus to me.
My friend said that maybe it was his behavior as a loving, caring father that helped my heart to heal and protected me from the normal pitfalls of abuse. I believe she is right. I would go one step further. I believe is was partly his example of a loving, caring, forgiving father that led me to feet my Heavenly Father. That is where I found and still find the ultimate healing and forgiveness.
I see the big picture now. I see the potential for so many pitfalls and pain in my life. But, I see that in responding to the leading of the Holy Spirit, my dad led me toward the path of life. God in the heart of a father is a powerful thing!
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