Give me Jesus

"...In the morning, when I rise, 

In the morning, when I rise, 

In the morning, when I rise, 

Give me Jesus. 

Give me Jesus, 

Give me Jesus, 

You can have all this world, 

Just Give me Jesus…"

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My heart has been heavy for so many months, I don't remember what relief feels like. I've tried to push through, tried to take care of everyone, and every problem. I took everything on my shoulders, trying to fill my Mother's place, trying to fill the hole in my heart, trying to find happiness again.

But the truth is, I'm broken and weary, and tired from the fight.

This world is full of pain. Loved ones die. Dreams are taken, good intentions are hurled back in your face, friends turn their backs, family disappears, judgements overtake love, disappointments pile up, and souls are crushed.

Everywhere I look are people hurting, and I'm overwhelmed by the knowing, the raw, honest, bleeding, KNOWING of what their pain feels like. I'm in it, I've been there, I'm fighting my way out.

Without Jesus, I wouldn't survive.

Because through all of the pain, my gentle Savior is still pursing ME, still calling my name, still loving me, still surrounding me with truth and grace and mercy.

He hasn't left, and He never will.

I may never be the same again, and this world will never look the same again, but Oh, my sweet Savior hasn't changed, and He never will.

Give me more of Him. Give me His comfort, His gentle whispers, His quiet peace, His steadfast love. Give me His unfailing assurance, His healing, His friendship, His warm embrace. Give me His justice, His promise to overcome, His Salvation, His wisdom, His mercy.

Give me more of Jesus.

Every moment of every day. When I sleep, and when I rise. When I'm joyful, and when I'm lost in grief, when I'm hopeful, and when I feel despair. When the pains of this world have held me down for long enough, give me more of Him.


Give me Jesus. 

Thoughts on MLK Jr. Day

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. 

For fear has to do with punishment, 

and whoever fears has not been perfected in love."

1 John 4:18

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Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and my newsfeed is blowing up with MLK Jr. quotes, the most popular being:

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that,"- MLK Jr.

It's a great truth, but it didn't start with MLK Jr., it started with Christ. 

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Jesus came to Earth so that we would know what perfect love looks like. Love from our Father, love that casts out fear and condemnation, love that brings healing, forgiveness of our sins, and peace. Love that steps in and says: "You are precious, you are purposed, you were loved before the creation of the world." Love that adopts us as heirs to the throne, sons and daughters of The Most High God. 

THIS love, the love from God, is what drives out darkness and hate, because God's love is the only love that is perfect, the only love that is pure. 

As His children, God calls us the "light of the world" because we shine the love of Jesus for all to see, He's given us the job to be "lights on a hill", living lives that demonstrate the freedom we've found in Christ. We have been called to shine God's glory, to lead the lost, and to love others with the love we ourselves have received from God. 

MLK Jr. understood this love. He describes his call into ministry as: "…An inner urge calling [him] to serve humanity…" which makes me believe he understood that God had placed a light within him that needed to be shone, and that inner urge, I believe, was The Holy Spirit pushing him forward, just as He does with us today. 

It's great that we set aside a day to remember this man, and the effect he had on our history, but what's greater is seeing and understanding that MLK Jr. was just a man, being obedient to his calling in Christ. 

We are all called to shine God's love, and we are all called to point people back to Jesus, The One who's love was demonstrated so perfectly on the cross of Calvary, when He laid down His life for every single man, woman, and child; for red and yellow, black and white, for all lives that were and will be, because we all matter to God. He was the one who gave all lives value, dying for us, so that we could have complete unity with Him, and live forever with Him in Glory. 

His love is the only perfect love, the only pure light, and the only tool we need to reach our hurting world. 

Keep shining bright, brothers and sisters, the world needs you. 

A Letter to Dad, on Your Return:

November 5, 2016

Daddy,


I knew the day that we lost Mom, that satan would try to break you. I knew there would be days ahead when we’d wonder how we would keep going, how we’d get through the shock, the pain, the ache in our hearts. But never once, in these last 8 months without Mom, did I ever doubt that you’d be victorious. I knew deep down in my heart that you would overcome your grief, because I’ve watched you my whole life, and I know what kind of fighter you are, I know the passion in your soul, your fire for preaching God’s word, and your heart for His people. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from ministry very long, and I’ve been praying you back into the pulpit since day one.

I need you to know how proud I am of you. You never once turned your back on God in your pain, you never once gave up. You’ve stood by my side every day, getting up, getting dressed, breathing in and out, playing with your Grandchildren, and showing up in my life. You never let the pain overtake you, you never lost sight of our true goal, of God being before us, moving us ever forward.

And now you’re coming back, and my heart is overwhelmed. God has been so incredibly faithful to us. The healing God has done in your heart has healed my own in so many ways. Watching you overcome has increased my faith, increased my hope, given me courage, and kept me going on the days when getting out of bed seemed too difficult. God has been good to us, even in our pain, and has brought us out of those darkest of days.

Tomorrow is your first Sunday back at church, and I know you’re scared. I know there’s a lot of unknown still, going back without Mom. I know it will be hard in some ways, but I also know it will be good. God will give you the strength and courage you need. He’ll give you the words to preach, and the ability to serve without restriction. I’m sure your ministry will look different now, but I’m also just as sure that you are coming back with a deeper love, a deeper understanding, and a deeper compassion than ever before. You’ve been through the fire, but now you’re coming out the other side, and God will use you mightily for His Kingdom.

Can you just imagine the smile on Mom’s face, the tears in her eyes, the joy in her voice as she cheers for you? I see her so clearly, standing in your cloud of witnesses, shouting you forward, pushing you towards the prize that God has in store for you. Her love for you is still there, still surrounding you at Cassville, her presence will always be felt there, and I know God will let her see you tomorrow, so handsome in your suit. Mom will always be there, Dad, even though the veil separates us now.

And we’re here too. Your family is here, and we love you. We’re cheering for you too, and we’ll help you with whatever you need, working along side you, serving God in the way you taught us to serve. We’ll link arms with you, and we’ll go into battle with you, and satan won’t win Dad, I told you the day of Mom’s celebration of life, he won’t break us.

You’ve overcome, and you’ll continue to overcome, and God will keep helping us until the day He brings us home to Glory. Our eyes are on the prize, ever forward, ever upward.

“He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son.” -Revelation 21:7


All my love,

Michelle

My Grief Journey: 6 Months

I had often heard people say: "Part of me died with them", when expressing the type of pain they were experiencing after losing a loved one. I never fully understood this saying, though, until I lost my own Mom. Part of me really did die with her, little parts, scattered all over the scope of my life. I could never have been prepared for all the tiny and enormous ways my life would change after losing Mom. 

I think the biggest change for me, was my child-like faith. I used to pray and believe completely that God would hear and answer me the way I wanted. I used to believe that He wouldn't allow hurt in my life, if I prayed against certain things, and obeyed. I had never come face to face with The God of Heaven Who allows bad things to happen to good people. I had never been face to face with The God of our universe Who answers: "No", who turns away, who let's things happen to someone I love. Where was God the night Mom died? He was right there. Right where He always was, where He always will be, but this time, He didn't intervene. I had never experienced that before, to such a degree. My faith felt a big blow, my heart ripped out, and I was left grappling for the faith I once knew. I had to reacquaint myself with my Father God, with my Abba, because my understanding of Him changed. He hadn't changed, but I did. My humanness didn't understand how anything around me was good, why God would allow such a thing, and I had to learn to keep going to God, even in my pain, even when I wanted to run away from Him, get as far away from Him as I could, because of the pain He had allowed. I wasn't prepared for the spiritual pain I would encounter with the loss of my Mom, how it would shake me, and how I would need to crawl to Jesus, for the strength to breathe my next breath, and for the strength to keep going, long after the initial shock was over. 

I've learned that grief doesn't end, and it doesn't get better. There are days I am distracted by people, work, errands, and general life, but inside my heart, I am always thinking about my Mom, wanting to talk to her, wanting to share life with her, missing her. Every little part of every day reminds me of her somehow, and I wish she was here. I still find myself trying to wrap my mind around the fact that she's not coming back. This learning to do life without your Mother, without the woman who gave you life, who cared for you, sustained you, loved you completely, is incredibly difficult and heart wrenching. I don't think we're meant to do life without our Mother's, but death is, of course, the result of sin, and nothing now is as it should have been before the fall of man. Now, this is what we do, but it is not natural, it is not easy for our hearts to keep beating when part of it has died. The grief just becomes a part of you, something you carry around in your back pocket forever, something that never leaves you. 

I never knew how our physical and emotional heart could actually feel and hold so much pain. I never knew I could feel such physical burden, and still be alive. There are still moments, even now, 6 months later, when I am so overtaken by the trauma at the hospital, and days following my Mom's death. There are moments, even now, when the stab of fear, anxiety, and overwhelming loss consume me, and bring me to my knees. There are moments when the physical ache is so bad, that I just want to crawl into a ball, and be held. I'm 31 years old, a grown adult, but you're never old enough to lose your Mother, never old enough to say goodbye. I still long for her, and need her, and that's the thing that kills me…how can she really be gone, when I still need her so badly? 

I think about Heaven a lot, trying to wrap my mind around where Mom is now, and what she's doing. All The Bible tells us about Heaven is that we will spend our time worshiping and glorifying God there. That there is no time, as we understand it on Earth. So when I get to Heaven, finally, after being separated so long, my Mom will simply turn around, and there I'll be, as if we'd never been apart. But, oh, on Earth, the separation is felt so tremendously. 

Now, I think about all the things Mom is missing here, from my perspective, and I ache. Last night, while reading Katelyn bedtime stories, I realized that the book she had selected was the last one I had packed on an overnight to my parents house. This was the last story my Mom had read with Katelyn, and all the books she's learned since, Mom never got to experience with her. From Earth, that loss hurts, and I wish Mom could be here to hear all of Katelyn's words and expressions, see her care for her baby dolls, and baby sister. I want to share my beautiful babies with my Mom, and watch her love on them. But that can't happen, and from my perspective, the months and years that will pass without her will be so hard. But in Heaven, Mom is happy and complete, not lacking anything, not in any more pain. She doesn't feel the separation the way we do, and all of her tears have been wiped away for the final time. I wish that was so on Earth. I wish I could reach through the veil to Heaven, and feel the peace she feels now. 

I'm learning so much, in the wake of Mom's death. I'm learning to keep going, to live a new normal, and feel this new pain. I'm learning to deal with my grief, and the way it effects my life. I'm learning to deal with mundane things, even when I don't want to, and working to be patient with the world around me, when I'd rather hide away. I know I'm learning necessary things, and growing in new ways that I never would have before. 

And through it all, I'm still looking to Heaven, and choosing to believe that God is still good, and still The God of the Old Testament who restores us, and gives us beauty from our ashes. I'm choosing to believe that He's the same God who gives us peace, and who died to give our lives purpose. I'm choosing to believe that He's not done with me yet, that He'll keep teaching me things, revealing new things to me, and using what I learn to help those around me. Because I'm also choosing to believe, that God will keep working in my life, even when I am broken, and even when I am hurting, to further His kingdom, and encourage His people. None of this will be in vain. 

Sharing the Road to Glory: Why I Write

Writing and choosing the journal online is a very personal thing. The topics I choose, the words, the thoughts, are all my own, and deeply expose my inner heart of hearts. When it comes to living an open, vulnerable life, I've always been on board, believing that two people can only truly be connected when truth is spoken between them. I've never shied away from speaking truth, and that's what you'll find here in this blog: my truth.

Up until about a month ago, there was no problem with this, and I wrote freely, expressing topics on faith, motherhood, marriage, and most recently: my devastating journey of grief after losing my Mother. I've written real things, real emotions, real questions. I've written about my faith, and my relationship with God. I've shared prayers, personal struggles, and even questions that I've brought to The Almighty. I've shared these things because I know there are others grieving in the body of Christ, and they need to know it's OK to feel the way they do. I know there are other women hurting out there, who can read my words, and be encouraged. I know there are others aching, seeking, and not knowing where to look to find their peace. I want to point those people to Christ, even in my grief, because I know how they feel, and I have the answers they seek: I have Jesus, and it's my job to tell the nations.

However, about a month or so ago, I was approached by someone who told me that my blogs were too personal, and needed to stop. I was told that the topics I write about were embarrassing to people, making them uncomfortable, and not appropriate. More so, I was told that my pictures and weekly posts about my Mom on Facebook were too much, and also needed to stop. I was told that I needed to make a public apology on Facebook, and curb my writing. I was told I needed to be more subdued, more controlled, quiet.

So I made a public apology, I took down the offending posts, and I was quiet.

Like a good little girl, I sat with my hands folded in my lap, not speaking unless spoken to.

I was quiet.

But today is a new day, and I'm feeling differently.

Today, I am feeling misunderstood, I am feeling violated and crushed. I have worked too hard in my life to just sit and be quiet. I have fought too hard for the life God wants me to live, to let someone else tell me what I can, and cannot do.

I pushed through school, furthering my education at a Christian College, even after being sexually assaulted by my professor and advisor. I pushed through depression when my Grandmother died in my arms. I pushed through physical pain, when the doctors told me I'd lose the use of my left hand and wrist. I pushed through heartache, when I remained pure, praying for a husband and babies, and my prayers were left unanswered for years and years. I pushed through ridicule, when I was made fun of for my faith, when my friends left me, when I was abandoned because being sober just wasn't cool enough. I pushed through my years of being a pastor's daughter, absorbing people's criticism of my Mom & Dad, and of my brother & I too. I pushed through postpartum depression after Katelyn's birth, through the trials of raising two daughters who are not biologically mine, through merging our families, and through creating a beautiful home where all my children can love and flourish. I am pushing through my grief, pushing through the pain of the loss of my precious Mom, and through the pain of watching my Dad mourn day after day. I have pushed through the pain of watching my Dad resign, and I have pushed through many days of ministry since, desperately desiring to still serve my LORD above all else, and the beautiful people that He has put in my path.

I have pushed through it all, fought the good fight, conquered by The power of The Lamb, and gone through all of this, because God wants me to have a story to tell, a life to give witness to, truth to proclaim. He has put the words in my heart to share, through my own experiences, in order to build up the church around me, and encourage those who are in my circle of influence. Sharing these heartaches with one another is what makes us stronger, it's what builds our community and fellowship, and also our faith. We need each other on our journey, and that's why it's so important, I believe, to live vulnerable lives, and willingly share our heart with those around us.

I've always strived for this, and I have a hard time understanding how anyone could read my words as anything less. My blogs have been raw and emotional, but they have always been deeply rooted in faith, in my understanding of scripture, and who I know God to be. I've always pointed back to Christ in my pain, in my questioning, and in my despair. I've never led anyone astray. So being asked to stop writing, to stop sharing, really hurt my heart.

I use writing as a way to express the pain I'm in, because it's really the only way I'm able to completely say what's on my heart. Grief is a very lonely journey to walk through, because so few people are willing to walk beside me, and I fear that if I truly expressed in words what I was feeling, even fewer would walk by me. Writing is safe, but still allows me to release my pain, and process my thoughts, which is huge in my journey through grief.

I've always prayed that this process would be helpful for others too, people who are going through their own struggles in life. I've always prayed that these words would encourage others, and be a sort of mission field for me, where I can share my faith, and introduce others to the Jesus I love so much.

I just can't imagine shutting down this blog, and erasing all the words I've written. I just can't imagine silencing my heart, and stifling The Holy Spirit and the things He reveals to me as I write. So though I've been asked to stop, my response to that is "no." It has to be, because to stop would mean to deny my heart, and deny the work God is doing in my life. I'm just not willing to do that, and not willing to silence the words God has placed within me to speak.

I hope that you will keep reading, and sharing this journey with me. My prayer always has been, and will always be, for you to be blessed here, and find truth for your heart here. And not only that, but love and understanding, from a heart that knows what it's like to be broken, but also full of hope, that our God is still in the business of restoration and healing. He is still on the throne, and working good things out in our lives. We have much to be thankful for, and much to look forward to. I hope you'll walk with me, and share the road to Glory, we were never meant to travel alone.

Season of Pruning

"He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, 

While every branch that does bear fruit He prunes 

So that it will be even more fruitful."

- John 15:2 

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When Dad resigned from our church, I was heartbroken. I just couldn't wrap my mind around losing my Mom, and also losing this huge part of my Dad as well. I couldn't imagine what God was doing with our church, removing my Dad from a ministry that was thriving and growing, a ministry he'd been devoted to for over 25 years. I begged God for an answer, a way for me to understand what He was doing. I begged God to give me peace and direction, because inside my heart I felt so very lost and confused, filled with so many "Why" questions, and overflowing with grief not only for my Mom, but for my Dad as well. 

I only heard silence from Heaven for the first few weeks after Dad resigned, but then a guest speaker filled our pulpit one Sunday morning, and he read this familiar verse from John. But on that particular day, it was like I was reading the verse for the very first time, totally struck by the second half of this verse, and I believe God used that sermon to answer my questions. 

"…While every branch that DOES bear fruit He PRUNES so that it will be even MORE fruitful!"

I was struck by the truth that God prunes us, even when we're doing good work. 

He hadn't removed Dad from the pulpit because He had been doing something wrong, or was overseeing a dying ministry, but the complete opposite was revealed to me, God is pruning us, so that we can produce even more fruit. 

Pruning is incredibly painful, having parts of us removed or cut away. But I truly believe now that that's what God was doing when He called my Mom home the way He did, in the time that He did.  For whatever reason, God removed Mom from our lives, pruning us, requiring that we go on growing without her, producing even more fruit than we did when she was with us. We wouldn't have chosen this path, and some days I still struggle and ask God why, but He's surrounded me with peace that this is what He is doing. 

Likewise, within our church, God required pruning. He took away the pastor's wife, and then the pastor, leaving many people to question what was going to happen. We even had some people choose to leave, because they just couldn't handle seeing this pruning take place. But I believe that our churches growth required pruning, and that is why Dad has stepped down, and a new pastor will step in, in order to grow our church even more. 

No one asked for this, no one wanted it, but it's something God has required, for our good. 

It's encouraging to know that God doesn't hurt His children just to hurt them. He does require things of us, that's true, but He does it in order to grow us and mature us, and give more honor to Himself. We have to remember that we are on this Earth for the sole purpose of bringing glory and honor to our Almighty God in Heaven, and to reach the lost around us. We are not here to live comfortable lives, we are here to be servants of The Most High God. He requires more of us, but it's out of His great love that He prunes us, out of His great love that He matures us, and helps us grow. 

I can't imagine a more painful pruning than losing my Mom, and losing Dad as pastor. I can't imagine a harder season of life, but I'm convinced that all of this cutting away is maturing me in ways I never would have reached before, and I'm convinced God is doing it to produce more good things. More good things in our personal lives, and more good things in the life of our church. 

We are going through a season of pruning, a deep season of pain. But I am holding onto the promise that more fruit is coming, that good things are coming, and that one day, the wound won't be fresh and bleeding, but scared and healed, a dim reminder of the pain we've endured, and a testament to the path God has been faithful to walk us through. 

This season of pruning won't last forever, a harvest season will come. 

A Cloud of Witnesses

My journey through grief has been much harder the last few weeks, since bringing baby Maggie home. My heart aches to talk to my Mom, and sometimes I find myself speaking into the darkness, trying to reach her in Heaven. I have no idea how that works. I have no idea what our loved ones in Heaven can see and hear. I have no idea when God allows them to be present, to watch over us, to witness what's happening in our lives. Scripture just doesn't give us any answers about such things, and so we have to draw our own conclusions based on what we are told.

Hebrews 12:1 tells us that we are surrounded by a "great cloud of witnesses", those who have gone before us, but we're not told who is in our cloud, or what exactly they can see. But what I know of God and His character, I've drawn the conclusion that Mom can hear me when I ask Him to let her. Our God is gracious and full of love, He is compassionate and kind. He knows our hearts completely, and is our Healer. I have to believe that when God knows I need my Mom most, that He allows that to happen. I may be completely wrong in this belief, but that's what it is, something my heart chooses to believe, embrace, and something that brings me comfort.

I have to believe that Mom can see my babies growing up. That she's with us in the special moments, and in the moments when we need her. I have to believe that Mom could see Maggie's birth and dedication, that she can hear Katelyn's new words, and see the way Abby and Lauren are maturing into adulthood. I have to believe that she sees me living out my life, trying to make her proud, and doing all I can to live the way she taught me. I have to believe that she is there in my cloud, witnessing all of these things, and drawing joy from them. Watching her family must be part of her reward, part of the treasure of being in Heaven, at least, that's what I choose to believe.

Sometimes our faith has to fill in the gaps of what we don't know. We just have to hold on, and believe that God cares for us, and is helping us work these things out. The truth is we will never know the answers to these questions until we get to Heaven, but for now, I'm sure God is patient with my weak understanding, and in time, will bring me the comfort I seek.