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.

A Letter to Maggie: On Your Dedication

Sweet Maggie Maloy,

God answered so many prayers when He gave you to us, so many prayers that I didn’t even know my heart was asking for. When we learned we were pregnant with you, life looked very different. Our family looked very different, and all we knew then was complete joy and celebration, so excited that you would be joining our family.

During my pregnancy with you, heartbreak struck, and Grandma Rose went to be with Jesus in Heaven. Our family went through a devastating time, one I wasn’t sure we’d ever be able to get through. I wasn’t sure I’d have anything to offer you, sweet girl, because I was so very broken inside. But then you came into our world, and God began some healing in my heart, sparking a part of my soul that I thought had died. You brought me hope. You brought our family hope, and a joy that we so desperately needed.

God knew we needed you, Maggie, and He designed all of this from the very beginning. He knew all along what would happen this year, and He planned for you to arrive at just the right time to restore our faith. God has been in control all along, our lives are ordained by Him, and we belong to our Father God, Who designs good things for us.

You are beautifully and uniquely made by The God of Heaven who loves you so very much. You will fulfill His purposes and plans in a way that only you can, and I aways want you to know deep down in your heart what a treasure you are. You are a daughter of The King, and nothing, and no one, can ever steal away your worth.

Daddy and I will do all we can to raise you up in the secure love of our Father. We will teach you how to walk with Jesus, and learn His desires for your life. We will help you and encourage you, reminding you of what a gift you are, and point you back to scripture as you navigate life. We will raise you to grow in the power of our resurrected King, and live in the freedom and grace that God so lovingly pours out on His children. We will create a safe and loving home for you, a place you can always return to, and find shelter from the world. We will love you unconditionally, and always praise God for you, and acknowledge the priceless gift that you are.

God has given you to us, but we know that you belong to God first, and we commit your little life over to Him, knowing that you are safe in His arms. The plans He has for you are good, and we can’t wait to watch you accomplish them, and go on to do great things in The Name of our Savior. We will always pray for your safety, protection, and good health, and for your feet to remain firmly planted in the Word of God.

Keep growing strong little one, this world needs you, needs the hope that you can offer, and the joy you have in your heart. Your Mommy and Daddy love you, and will always be right here by your side, cheering you on.

All our love,

Mommy & Daddy

Welcome to our World

Sweet Maggie,

Meeting you was like a sweet balm for my heart. The nurses laid you against my face, and all I could do was cry, so overcome with love for you, and completely amazed that you were finally here, finally part of our world.

There were times during my pregnancy with you, that I just didn’t know if we’d make it. I had contractions early on, when we lost your Grandma, and I got so worried. My heart was broken, and I didn’t know if my body had enough strength to carry you, but the thought of anything else completely ripped me apart. I needed you, Maggie, I needed you then, and I need you now, you are my heart’s hope.

You are God’s promise to me that life keep’s going after loss. You are my heart’s redemption, my renewal, my reason to be. God has revealed His goodness again, in bringing you to us. He’s breathed in new life, restored our joy, and increased our faith. In giving you to us, He has restored my hope: hope to keep going, to keep fighting the good fight, to keep believing in good things, and to keep trusting my Heavenly Father, even when things appear bad.

God’s still answering prayer, because you are here. You are proof. So many people prayed for us, prayed for you, prayed for your safe arrival, and now you’re here, and you’re perfect, and healthy, and ours.

Your sweetness brings me so much comfort and peace, and I am so thankful for you, and the gift that you are. You must always know what a complete treasure you are, and know how very much you are loved. You fit perfectly into our family, rounding us out, and giving us a sense of wholeness. You belong here, as if you’ve always been.

This first week with you has been a joy, and I thank God for you, and for the life He has planned for our family. He will continue to do great things, Maggie. He will continue to use you for His glory, and He will work out His good plan in your life.

Always know, that no matter what comes, our God is still good, and worthy of our praise. You are loved, and you are purposed, and you are safe in the arms of Jesus. You have only just begun this great journey of life, but knowing these things is all you will need. You are so precious to us, and to our LORD, and I can’t wait to watch you grow and see all the thing you will do.

Welcome to our world, Maggie. We’re so glad you’re here.

All my love,

Momma

God's Plan for My Life

I started writing this the day I went into labor with Maggie, not knowing I was in labor. I had it up on the computer when Andrew got home, and said: "I can't work on this right now, I'm in too much pain" having no clue that our baby would be arriving in just a few hours. I just found it on the computer again today, and thought it was still worth sharing. 

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June 25, 2016:


I haven't written in a while because the words in my heart have been jumbled, I've been feeling out of sorts and emotional. We are scheduled to welcome our baby girl into our world in just 6 short days, and that reality is surely doing a number on my heart.

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I've been so overcome with sadness the last few weeks, desperately longing for my Mom. I want to experience this with her, have her sit by my hospital bed and hold my hand, whisper reassuring words, and explain all of the medical things that I don't understand. She was the greatest nurse, and her spirit brought so much comfort and peace, and I've been aching for her, missing her comfort in such an overwhelming way. 

My Mom is gone. She's never coming back. And there are just days where I can't quite wrap my mind around that fact, can't quite bring myself to accept it. 

Day to day activities are so much easier to handle, mundane things that don't mean much. I can go about my life for a while, ignoring the pain….but bringing my child into the world? Yeah, that's a milestone where Mom should be. 

Mom should be waiting for us in recovery, she should be holding my baby girl when I wake up, tear stains on her face, telling me how beautiful Maggie is, and how I did good. She should be here for a 3rd generation photo, to pick out cute little outfits, and to hear her soft coos. Mom should be here for snuggles, bedtime songs, and bubble baths. She should be here for all of the firsts, all of the excitement, all of the joy. 

She should be here, but she's not, and there's no way to share this with her. That reality just doesn't seem fair, doesn't seem right, and doesn't feel like something I want to do. 

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Coming to terms with this is hard, and it's harder still because I'm battling with a God I've always loved, always believed in, and never questioned. 

How do I reconcile my pain, and all of this heartache, with a good God, Who doesn't do bad things? How do I keep on praying for peace and comfort, when I don't feel comforted? How do I keep living out my witness to a broken world, when I, myself, am broken? 

Let me make this one thing clear: deep down in my heart of hearts, I still know, deeply know, that God is here with me. I know He hasn't changed in the last 3.5 months since losing Mom, I know He's still good, and I still know He's working all things out for our good. 

But it doesn't feel good. 

It doesn't feel right. 

And right now, I just can't see beyond the pain. 

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Andrew told me last night: "Maybe you're just supposed to feel this pain right now. Maybe it's not so much that God's not answering your prayers for comfort at all, but rather, telling you 'No, you need to feel this.'" And knowing God the way I do, I suppose he's right. 

God wouldn't have me go through this if there wasn't a greater purpose. He wouldn't require pain that wasn't meant for my ultimate good. Right now, through my aching heart, those reasons just don't feel good enough. I'd rather have my Mom here than learn a faith lesson. I'd rather go on living my life the way it was with Mom than go through this valley of darkness and despair. But God requires more. He requires that His children give their all to follow Him. He requires sacrifice, and discomfort. And in His great love for me, He desires more for me: deeper faith, deeper understanding, deeper communion with Him, and a deeper love, completely committed to Him. 

This is the story God requires, the plan He has for my life.  I have to keep trusting Him through it, and trusting that He'll see me through. 

My Safe Place

         Psalm 91

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High

    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

 

I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,

    my God, in whom I trust.”

Surely he will save you

    from the fowler’s snare

    and from the deadly pestilence.

 

He will cover you with his feathers,

    and under his wings you will find refuge;

    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

 

You will not fear the terror of night,

    nor the arrow that flies by day,

 

nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,

    nor the plague that destroys at midday.

 

A thousand may fall at your side,

    ten thousand at your right hand,

    but it will not come near you.

 

You will only observe with your eyes

    and see the punishment of the wicked.

If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”

    and you make the Most High your dwelling,

 

no harm will overtake you,

    no disaster will come near your tent.

 

For he will command his angels concerning you

    to guard you in all your ways;

 

they will lift you up in their hands,

    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.

 

You will tread on the lion and the cobra;

    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;

    I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.

 

He will call on me, and I will answer him;

    I will be with him in trouble,

    I will deliver him and honor him.

 

With long life I will satisfy him

    and show him my salvation.”

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My heart has been very fearful and anxious, overwhelmed by the terror and heartbreak in our world. Everyday, I turn on the news, and am blasted with headline after headline describing another scene from hell. Pain and sadness is on every corner, heard from every end of the Earth, there's no where to go to be safe, no refuge to be found. 

How do I raise my children in a world like this? How do I let them out of my sight? How do I trust a school to keep them safe, a bus driver, a family friend? And even in my own presence, I'm all too aware that toddlers have a mind of their own, and swift little legs that carry them off in a blink of an eye. I have to face even my own limitations, and these thoughts swirl through my mind, and I'm left crouching in the corner, clinging to my babies, afraid of everything and everyone. 

Where can I go with this fear, where can I find safety? 

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As a Christian, and follower of Jesus Christ, I have to reconcile my fear with what God says about being afraid. Unfortunately, for a person like me, who struggles with worry, God is not very lenient. He commands His children to not be afraid, and makes it very clear that to do so, is a sin. 

But how do I just stop worrying? How can I possibly shut off my mind, calm my heart, and cease to worry? It's hard to do, and certainly takes intentional prayer and practice, and even then, fear has a way of creeping in on us. 

Thankfully, for us though, God is not just a stern Father calling out commands. He is also loving and tender, compassionate to us, and patient with us. He knows how hard it is for us to be at peace in our hearts. He knows how much we love our children, and long for their safety and well-being. God knows, because that's how He loves us, with an even fiercer love than we could ever imagine. His love for us is so great, that He never leaves our side, counts the hairs on our heads, bottles our tears, and stoops down to hear our whispers and cries for help. As our Father God, He promises to watch over us, never needing to sleep, protecting us during our days and also during our nights. He is faithful and good, but also powerful and mighty and strong. He can handle anything that comes our way, and tells us not to be afraid. 

It's easier to stop worrying, when we realize how big and strong our God is, but also understand that He is motivated by His love for us. He's not only working to protect us, but He's also working for our good, because He loves us and sees to our well-being. 

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Psalm 91 brings me so much comfort, reading all of the ways that God promises to be our protector and refuge. As I face this sad world, and all of my fears for my children, I can rest in peace knowing that God is there, tucking us under His wings, and promising to be our safe place. He will shelter us, He will protect us, and He will deliver us. We needn't fear the evil in this world, because our God has overcome, and promises to guard us in all of our ways. 

Facing the fears of tomorrow may be scary, but it's not impossible. God has promised to help us, and to be with us through every step. I'm so thankful I can call out to Him and express my concern, and know that He is listening and acting on my behalf. I can trust my children to His care, knowing His love for them is so great, and I can take courage, knowing my God is mighty and strong, and going before us in all things. 

I can find rest and refuge in my Father God, because He is my safe place.