"The LORD will fight for you;
you need only to be still."
-Exodus 14:14
.
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.
.
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.
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.
.
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.
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