Wednesday, June 15, 2016

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. 

Friday, June 10, 2016

Beyond The Cross

"...You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross…"
- Dear Younger Me, MercyMe
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"He Himself bore our sins" in His body on the cross,
So that we might die to sins and live for righteousness;
"By His wounds you have been healed."
-1 Peter 2:24

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One of the aspects of grief that I haven't talked about yet, is the desire and overwhelming need to fix my grief, and the grief of those around me. Society doesn't know what to do with someone when they're grieving, and the natural response is to say: "Snap out of it!", or give off a general impression of impatience. For the person in grief, this adds pressure, fueling the need to "fix" the issue ourselves and get back to "normal" life. 

We live under the assumption that we have any control over it at all, and we burden ourselves with guilt: "Why am I still sad?", "Why do I still feel so withdrawn?", "Why can't I get passed the pain?"...and so the questioning goes, and our guilt piles higher. 

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I've been thinking about this problem, and the weight it brings, and trying to filter it through scripture. Jesus doesn't want me to carry this burden of needing to be fixed, or the guilt from not being fixed soon enough, Jesus wants me to let Him carry me, and let Him heal me. 

Beyond that, I want to propose that it's even wrong to assume that we can control our grief, because we are not capable of bringing healing to anything, only God can do that. I think we begin to cross over into God's territory when we try to do things ourselves, instead of relying on Jesus to bring about our healing. 

MercyMe is one of my favorite contemporary Christian artists, their music is emotionally honest, relevant, and inspiring, and I love how their songs tell real stories. Their latest song was written from the context of growing up in an abusive home, overcoming that past, and allowing God's redeeming love to transform. In one of the last lines of the song, the lead singer says: "You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross", and it really struck me... 

The cross of Jesus was necessary so that all of our burdens and sins could be healed. Everything comes together at the cross, God's great design to reconcile His people to Himself. Our burdens and sins needed a place to be washed clean, a place to be forgiven, a place to be purchased. Jesus went willingly to pay that debt for us, and He also went so that we would no longer have to carry the pain of life on our own. He became our Savior God, our Messiah, our redeemer, because there was no way for us to save ourselves. 

…I was never meant to carry my burden of grief beyond the cross

Jesus paid the ultimate sacrifice, giving us His very life, so that we don't have to live under the burden of sin, sadness, regret, shame, unworthiness, unholiness, depression, or grief. His design was perfect, completing our redemption, and nothing is needed beyond the cross. We are healed by His wounds, healed completely, once and for all. 

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In light of this understanding, and applying it to my grief, I'm able to see that I really have no control at all, and no need to pressure myself, or those around me, into a place of "healing" that society will accept. 

God's design for His people was for us to leave everything at the cross, and let Him heal us. It was never part of His plan for us to lay our burdens down, and then take them back up and try to fix them ourselves. The cross of Jesus is final and complete, and we were never meant to carry our burden beyond calvary. 

The cross of Jesus is all we need to heal every sin and every scar, every broken heart and every sadness. God's plan for mankind was made perfect there at the cross, and we are free to lay our pains down there, with the promise that He will heal us, and that His healing will be complete. 

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Thy Will be Done

"Our Father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy Name.
Thy Kingdom come. 
Thy will be done on earth, 
As it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive them that trespass against us. 
And lead us not into temptation, 
But deliver us from evil. 
For Thine is the kingdom, 
The power, 
And the glory forever. 
Amen."
-Matthew 6:9-13

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As a child, I was taught this passage, The LORD's Prayer. I wasn't aware at that young age how difficult living out this prayer would be. And until Mom died, I never had a problem with it. The words rolled off my tongue and heart, easy to accept and easy to say. My untested heart never imagined the commitment these words brought, or how difficult they would one day become. 

But Mom's death brought on a new sort of trial that I've never experienced, and never expected: I questioned God's will

I questioned God. 
I got mad. 
I got upset. 
I demanded answers from The Almighty God of Heaven. 

The fourth line of this prayer became impossible for me to pray. "Thy will be done" became such a painful phrase, ripping my heart out. How could my Mom's death be part of God's good plan…and if it was, how was I supposed to accept that, and bend my knee to God and declare "Thy will be done!"? How could my aguish line up with my good God, and the good plan He has for this world? 

Saying the words "Thy will be done" means that I'm willing to accept whatever God gives, and now knowing how much pain life can actually bring, I don't want to say those words, because I don't want to accept the painful parts. I don't want to live a life without my Mom, I don't want to live my life in pain, missing her, and watching the grief of my family. 

I've struggled for weeks with this contradiction, but yesterday I heard a song on the radio that caught me off guard, and I began to cry. I knew I had rebelled long enough, and knew God was calling me back to Himself. 

With tears rolling down my cheeks, I knew in my heart that I had to surrender. I knew what God required, and as much as it hurt to surrender my will, I knew it was His that I ultimately sought. God's love for me drew me back in, and let me know that I could surrender to Him, because His love for me is that great. 

As a follower of Jesus Christ, I declare that He is LORD…LORD over my life, LORD over my death, and LORD over my world. I have to bend my knee to Him, and accept all that He declares "good" in my life. He is in control, and I have to let Him be in control, even when it hurts me. 

Sitting here, in the midst of my grief, I have no idea what God's plan is, or what He's working out. I have no idea what He is doing. But there's freedom in letting God work, and there's peace in letting God be in control. Because of His love, I know I'll be OK, whatever comes. 

In spite of the agony, I know that God's ways are higher, and His plans better, and in the midst of this season of pain and questions, I've had to recommit my life to Christ, and tell Him that yes, I do still trust You; yes, I do still love You, and yes…even when it hurts…Thy will be done.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

I Need Only to be Still

"The LORD will fight for you;
you need only to be still."
-Exodus 14:14
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One of the hardest parts of grief that no one talks about, is the actual act of sitting in your grief. Day in and day out, there is a soul sadness that I carry around, an ache that I can't remove. I am forced to sit with the grief, hold it everywhere I go, and manage my life around it. Grief is a jealous house guest, it demands your constant attention, your every emotion, and your every thought. It's not silent, it's not unassuming, it's not kind. Grief is all-consuming, exhausting, and the greatest burden I've ever known. Sitting here in the agony of it is what's hard, because nothing in life seems possible, the sadness is just so great. 

I've tried everything to ease the pain: praying, writing, reading, sharing, crying…but I've learned that those things are all just temporary helps, nothing can fully remove the throb in my heart. 

In talking about this with my husband this week, he said to me: "I think it's time for you to just be quiet now...", there's just nothing left to say, no more prayers to pray, no more words that can describe my hurt. This battle will not be won by my actions, and all I can do now is be still…

But being still is so hard for me. Sitting here, quiet in my pain, is so so hard for me. 

I'm a writer, I express myself openly, I like to fix things, I like to analyze things and control them. I don't like to be quiet, and I don't like to be still. 

But I know my husband is right, I've come to the place in my grief journey where all I can do now is sit, wait, and be quiet. I have to learn to give the journey over to God, understanding that it's all in His hands now, there's nothing else I can do. 

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I've known this verse in Exodus a long time. It's been one of my key verses for years, often giving me strength as I face a new chapter, a certain fear, or obstacle. I've always found comfort and courage knowing that my God goes before me in all things, paving my way, fighting off my enemies, and defending my cause. I've moved ahead in life so many times with this verse tucked away in my heart, and I see now that I need to pull it back out, and apply it to my grief journey as well. 



"The LORD will fight for [me], [I] need only to be still."



Grief is a spiritual battle, and I've known that from day one. In the immediate days following my Mom's death, I truly know without a doubt that my Dad was under satan's attack. His face was not the same, his voice, his words, his actions. He became a man I didn't recognize, and it went far beyond the heartbreak and shock of losing Mom. My Dad was in a spiritual battle for his very life, it was dark, it was scary, and it was real. Our home felt cold, unfamiliar, and dark. 

I knew then that we needed to pray harder than we ever had before. I knew I needed help, and called on the deacon's of our church to hold prayer meetings. I posted publicly online, calling for prayer warriors to surround us with prayer. I knew I couldn't fight the battle alone, I needed my friends, and I needed God's help. 

Mercifully, God carried us through those first dark days, and held off the immediate threat. But the battle didn't end there, satan still loves to attack us when we're down, when we're hurting, when we're questioning, when we're searching. satan would love to have a field day  prowling around my family, but we rebuke him, we tell him to leave, and we ask God to fight for us. 

And that's where I find myself now: attempting to live my normal life, under the massive weight of grief, with the devil prowling around me. I'm out of weapons and arrows, words and prayers, and all I can do now is sit and be quiet, and wait for God to bring victory in this battle. There's nothing I can do, but remind my heart that God goes before me, fighting for me, and requires nothing of me, but obedience. 



Be still. 
You need only to be still. 



So here I sit, trying to let God's peace fall over me. My face lifted to Heaven, my heart open, I breathe deep. 



Be still. 



I have to let God fight this war, I have to hand Him my pain, and wait for Him to deliver me. He knows how my heart aches, He knows how hard this sitting and waiting is for me. He knows I'd rather pick up my stick and fight for myself, but He's calling me to be still. To trust Him, to believe Him when He says He's in control. 


The LORD will fight for me, but I have to let Him. 


Friday, June 3, 2016

Casting the Burden











"Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you; 






He will never permit the righteous to be moved."







- Psalm 55:22







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I know there are certain stages to grief, steps I'm supposed to pass through in order to come to a place of healing. I've been to a counselor, I've read the pamphlets and how-to grief books, and I know how this is all supposed to go. On paper. But that's the problem, paper is neat and orderly. Paper can be read through, checked off, and discarded. But life is not so easy, grief, is not so easy. 

As a Christian, people expect grief to be even neater, tied up in the pretty bow of Heaven. "Your loved one is in Heaven!" seems to be the answer that everyone gives, the answer that is supposed to take away all of the pain. But I've known Jesus for over 25 years, my relationship with Him is solid, my hope for Heaven is secure, and that tiny neat bow doesn't wrap anything up for me, I am still filled with so many questions and emotions, strings in my heart that have yet to be tied up. 

I've struggled lately with knowing what to do with these loose strings, because, as I say, my faith is supposed to tie them up. I've lived one way my entire life, thinking and expecting one thing, but then Mom died, my world fell apart, and nothing seems neat and orderly any more. My faith is still there, God is still there, but my heart is different, my heart is broken...

Churches don't often talk about what to do when you have a broken heart. They don't often talk about what to do when you're in a faith crisis, a place of agony, a place that seems so dark even the hope of Heaven can't shine through. So I'm left to wade through these waters alone, searching scripture, and searching for God's heart in all of this. I'm left with questions I can't answer, and emotions I can't heal. 

The conflict in my heart is this: 

God is good, and not capable of doing bad things, but losing my Mom is not good, and will never be good. Seeing my family in such agony is not good, and will never be good. My Dad lost his other half, our children lost their Grandma, and those things are not good, and will never be good. 

So what then? 

What do I do with my questions, what do I do with my anger, what do I do with my pain? As a follower of Jesus Christ, how do I filter my questions through the truths I still believe in scripture? I still believe that God hasn't changed, but how do I reconcile all the "bad stuff" with my good God? Is it possible? 

As much as I've wanted to run away lately, the answer I'm receiving from God is "yes."  Yes it is possible to reconcile my pain, because God is not afraid of my questions, anger, or emotions. He does not dismiss me, He does not turn His back on me, and He will never take back my salvation when I have moments of doubt. He is still my good Father, and He wants to hear from me. He tells me to cast my burden on Him. 

Right now, my emotions are raw, my heart is hurting, and I'm broken. But God knows that. He's not angry with me for feeling these things, and He understands where I am. Jesus was fully human while on Earth. He experienced and felt every kind of feeling you and I will ever have. He knows. And in the middle of my brokenness, I have to keep trusting that He knows, that He remains good, and that one day…even years from now, if need be…God will turn my "bad stuff" into good. I may never understand it, and I may not even live long enough to see it, but when I reach Heaven and see God face to face, He will make it all OK. 

So right now I'm facing my anger head on. I'm crying out to Jesus in a way I never have, and I'm allowing myself to feel all of these ridiculous stages of grief, because I know I have to. I can't bury these things, or hide them away. I'd be doing myself, my family, and those watching my grief journey, no good. Because despite what some Christians may tell you, there is no pretty neat bow, life is a struggle, grief is a struggle, and faith- in many cases- can be a struggle. I am working it out with my God, and bringing Him my honest heart, and at this point, I can't imagine that He requires anything more. 

The act of casting my burden has to be enough, laying everything I'm going through at the feet of Jesus. And once I lay it there, God will help me work through it, and bring me through to the other side. My faith will be stronger, tested and refined. It may never be wrapped up tight in a pretty bow, but it will be complete, not lacking anything. 



Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Tears in a Bottle

"You keep track of all my sorrows. 
You have collected all my tears in Your bottle. 
You have recorded each one in Your book."
- Psalm 56:8
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I've been thinking about how God collects our tears in a bottle, and keeps record of every one that falls. We are that precious to Him, that He bends to us, cups our cheeks with His scarred hands, and saves our tears

It always breaks my heart to see my baby girl cry, even when she's been naughty. I hate seeing her precious eyes overflow with big teardrops, and her arms reach out for me. She longs for me to comfort her, but sometimes, I just can't. I have to let her learn, I have to let her experience life, knowing I can't keep her in a bubble, and sometimes her pain is just necessary, something I can't take away

It must break God's heart too, to see His children reach out in agony, with tears streaming down our faces, only to know that He has to let us hurt for a while. There's growing to do, refining that only comes by fire. His love for us is so great, that He has to let us experience life, even when it hurts…

But God is able to do what no other parent can. He is able to wipe away every last tear, and declare: "No more." He can heal every hurt, right every wrong, and restore our broken hearts. He can heal us, and promises to heal us, when the time is right…

And until then, He goes on keeping record. Watching us, hovering over us, moving away obstacles that may cause us harm, and allows us to walk through life, experiencing pain, but still there with His arms stretched wide, ready to catch us…

He is a good, good Father. Even when all we can see is the pain, He remains good. His tenderness and affection for us never changes, and His bottle of tears never overflows, because eventually, He comes to us, scoops us up in His arms, and whispers: "Enough, child, hush now, Daddy's here."

God did that for my precious Mom, and He'll do the same for me, when the time is right…