Survival 101 – Probably Not What You Expected.

October 25, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I enjoy a good survival story, especially if it is true and has a happy ending. I am a absolute sucker for happy endings, what can I say? But I am especially intrigued by the stories of those who start on a journey only to find themselves in seemingly impossible circumstances for which they are grossly ill-prepared.

Consider the plight of an inexperienced hiker who decided to enjoy a rare warm fall day by hiking into a nearby mountain. She had heard the view was beautiful and even though she knew nothing of the terrain and had never seriously hiked before, she slipped on her sneakers, tossed a small water bottle and granola bar in her bag, and started up the trail, confident that she could handle anything that lie ahead.

But as the day wore on, she began to realize that, even though she had been walking for several hours, she had not yet reached the mountain summit. In fact, as she looked around her, she realized she could not find any markers to indicate whether she was even still on the trail. Somehow, she had lost her way. She stopped to calm herself and tried to remember what she should do in a situation like this but quickly realized that this was beyond anything in her experience. She looked at her cell phone but saw she only had a very weak signal so she decided to keep walking, hoping to see it improve. By only focusing her attention on her phone, she completely missed the dark clouds that had built overhead or the way the winds had begun to whistle through the trees. It was only as the rain pelted down upon her that she suddenly realized the danger of her present situation and frantically searched for some kind of shelter, anywhere to take refuge from the violent storm. She stumbled down into a pile of boulders and there she hid herself, waiting for the storm to pass. While in her hiding spot, she recognized a pang of hunger and reached into her small backpack only to discover she had eaten her lone granola bar some hours before. Her water bottle was empty as well so she held it out under the rain, hoping to snatch a few precious droplets with which to quench her thirst.

Wet from the heavy rains and growing much colder as the chilly evening air settled around her, she began to feel true fear. No one knew where she was, her cell phone was not working, she was out of food and water, she was wet, she was cold, and she didn’t know what to do. So as the rain changed into a foggy mist, she started to walk once more, completely disoriented, without the faintest clue of where she was or what direction she was heading.

She had started on an adventure without the three main keys of survival … Experience, Preparedness, and Navigation … and our hapless hiker was now paying the unfortunate price for her negligence.

Now, this could simply be a case of an overly active imagination, but that hiker’s story reminds me of the entirety of 2020 thus far –except, I would probably need to add in a blizzard that dropped six feet of snow on her, a couple of grizzly bears, a mountain lion or two, and a few more natural disasters to make it more accurate, right?

Lord have mercy, what a year.

Admittedly, I am not much of a hiker. I do enjoy an excursion through the woods and being surrounded by the serene silence of a forest, but I prefer the luxury of indoor plumbing, you know? I probably would not fare well if I were lost in the wilderness and facing the onslaught of crises that our hiker encountered, despite some basic survival skills I may possess. But in my world, I do have a little experience with crisis and I know a thing or two about survival. Even so, the events of this past year still knocked me for a loop so what I am going to share is just a taste of what I’ve been working through and pondering over these last several months. If you have been ‘thrown for a loop’ as well, I hope you will listen to this part of my story and consider these musings.

Earlier this year, prior to the ongoing events of the pandemic and the overall breakdown of society, I was facing a crisis that completely rocked my world. My oldest son, who has autism and often crippling anxiety, completely fell apart emotionally. It started at the end of 2019 but the shattering didn’t fully hit until later in January. I have been through many a crisis with this beloved son of mine, but this was something new and beyond anything I had experienced before.

My son has significant limitations and behavioral issues due to his autism and anxiety so he attends a special school that is specifically designed for individuals with his level of need. As part of his treatment plan, they have written a crisis plan, which is a specific set of steps they follow when he exhibits crisis behavior. It is written by highly trained professionals and all staff are trained in how to implement it. Here at home, I have my own crisis plan. It is one I have developed myself over the years of living, loving, and working with my son while also needing to protect his younger siblings. I am a team of one with a soft nature so I had to walk through a lot of hard things to gain the experience and wisdom needed to develop a plan that would keep my son safe, as well as, to teach him how to control and calm himself. I am not naturally gifted in knowing how to do this nor is my personality wired for this level of parenting. But I have learned that having a solid plan allows me to respond to almost any crisis wisely and consistently — being prepared is vital.

However, when my son fell apart earlier in the year, I was out of my depths in a way I had not been in a long time. I was alone with him (and his siblings who retreated to their rooms) and for a long time I could only watch — and pray. See, for any Christian mother, but especially one with a non-verbal special needs child, that is absolutely key. I cannot know what is happening inside my son’s mind — I can only see the outside. But God knows all things so I cried out to Him for insight and for wisdom to know what to do.

Experience with this level of breakdown I did not have, but I did have quite a bit of experience from other storms I have walked through with my son. Therefore, I had a certain ability to deal with the crisis at hand. Because of that kind of experience and the many years I have invested learning how to help my son, I was prepared enough to be able to respond in such a way to help deescalate the situation, as opposed to escalating it further. So I was moderately prepared and had some experience and these were very important but it was the final point that made the real difference — navigation. I texted my Pastor to tell him briefly of the situation and to ask for prayer … and then I sat beside my son’s bed in the darkness of the night and I lifted my silent cries to the Lord. I needed His guidance and direction in order to help my son.

“Your ears will hear a word behind you, “This is the way, walk in it,”
whenever you turn to the right or to the left.”
Isaiah 30:21

God, when all else seemed lost, was my navigation, my compass, to guide me in the right direction, during a time both my son and I were utterly disoriented by the intensity of the storm.

How often do we tend to mindlessly meander our way through life, assuming everything will go well and according to our plans? No one plans for hard seasons, whether it be the birth of a child with a life-threatening disease or a disability of some nature. No one plans for cancer to attack a loved one or death to call someone away in their youth. No one plans for a year like we have known in 2020.

So what do we do when faced with crisis, when our world is shaken to its core, or in some cases, shattered to pieces before our eyes? How do we rely on experience when facing situations that are far more than we have ever dealt with? How do we prepare for crisis when we don’t know it is coming? Most importantly, do we have a tool of navigation, something or someone who can provide direction as we move through a troubled season?

These are only a few of the thoughts I have been ruminating over these last months because even though I may have handled the first crisis of 2020 fairly well (all glory to God for that), the next wave of crisis that hit proved to be of tsunami proportions.

I will share that story another time but until then, consider taking some time to reflect on how you respond in times of crisis. Do you have enough experience with the goodness and sovereignty of God to help you weather the harshest of storms? Are you prepared and grounded in His truths? And most importantly, do you know where to find help and guidance in times of need? Think about it.

The time to consider these matters is not when crisis hits for then it may be too late.

“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.”
Psalm 121:1,2

Survival 101 – Probably not what you expected.

Am I Stuck or Am I Where I Need to be?

October 21, 2020October 21, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 1 Comment

Lately I have been noticing more comments than usual on social media about being ‘stuck.’

“If you’re stuck, it’s your own fault.”

“Change your life! Start over!”

It seems to be a fairly common refrain in modern times. If your life is hard, change it.

Now perhaps, I read too much into statements such as these — that would be possible. But I have to admit, when I hear these kind of words, I cringe. I probably take them a bit too personally.

Feeling ‘stuck’ is something I know well. Trapped between a wall and a hard place has been my normal for years. Unable to move forward or back in a way that makes sense to me. Seemingly stuck in one spot. I often struggle with the sense of helplessness.

But am I actually ‘stuck?’

Years ago, I wrote a short story entitled, ‘The Little Brown Bird.’ It is an allegory of a plain little bird who lived in a lovely garden, with a host of other far more beautiful and gifted birds, all of which had been created and cared for by the Master Gardener. Throughout the story, the brown bird fluctuated between hiding in the shadows or striving to be like the other birds in the garden. She often compared herself and made several attempts to do what the others did, usually placing herself in uncomfortable or sometimes even dangerous circumstances. This little bird believed that the Master Gardener did not see her or love her nearly as much as the others so she was constantly trying to fill the ache inside her by seeking to earn His attention and love. Unbeknownst to her, however, the Master Gardener knew this foolish little bird by name and was fully aware of her troubled thoughts and her futile attempts to earn a love that had already been freely given. After watching her latest frantic endeavor, the Master Gardener finally said, “Enough”, and after gently capturing her in His strong hands, He carried her to the garden cottage porch, where He carefully place her inside a cage.

Now, the Little Brown Bird was not pleased at all with her predicament and fought hard against the bars of that cage, terrified at the thought of being stuck. In the process of beating her wings against the cage, she only caused more injury to herself, so the Master Gardener, in His wisdom and foresight, brought her inside the cottage and placed her inside a much smaller cage that He had previously prepared for her. Then, much to her dismay, He slowly covered it with a blanket so that she sat in the complete darkness, alone and afraid.

She was stuck and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sounds terrible, doesn’t it? But you see, the little bird’s story does not end there. As she sat tucked away inside that cage, unable to fly or see anything around her, the little bird’s wounds were able to heal. She discovered that if she sat in complete silence, she could listen to the Gardener as He cared for other injured birds in the cottage. Sometimes He spoke directly to her with gentle words of rebuke and wisdom. She especially loved to listen as He hummed a lovely melody over and over — a melody that made the hardened heart inside of her to begin to soften. In time, the little bird found herself longing for sound of His voice or whistling His melody to herself in the silence of the cottage. She began to know a peace she had never experienced before.

During her season of isolation, the Little Brown Bird’s perspective began to change. She found she no longer desired to compare herself to the other birds in the garden nor did she feel a sense that she needed to be something other than the plain little bird she was. She learned the Gardener had placed her inside the cage, not as punishment, but for her protection as she came to understand and appreciate that He greatly loved and treasured her. Then she learned the sweetest surprise of all — the melody that He had hummed for her in the quiet of the cottage, was actually the very song He had created her to sing in the first place.

But she had to sit in silence to understand these things and to learn the song.

In the end, we learn that the hardship she endured was exactly what the little bird needed to learn how to be free.

I mentioned that this story is an allegory so there is hidden meaning tucked within the word pictures I tried to paint. It is a deeply personal allegory because the Little Brown Bird is, in fact … me. I am sure I have mentioned this before in previous writings.

Like my little friend in the story, I spent many years either hiding in the shadows or frantically running from one thing to the next, constantly searching for identity, love, acceptance, value, and peace — anything that would either numb or temporarily fill the aching emptiness inside. I wanted someone to see me … to really see me and love me, not ever understanding that God Himself, the Creator of all things, kept a careful watch over me.

A few months after the birth of my third child, my Heavenly Father said “Enough” and began to slowly put an end to all of my futile attempts to find identity, value, love, acceptance, and peace in anything other than Him.

It’s been fifteen years. Fifteen long and often hard years, filled with restrictive ‘cages’ and lots of lonely times. I know the feeling of being stuck. But my testimony is not of the restrictions, nor of the trials and loneliness of the years. My testimony is what God has done in the silence of those years and what He continues to do. My testimony is of the great mercy, kindness, and love He extended to me over and over even as I fought to escape the bars that held me. My story is one of freedom in the midst of ongoing hard things.

As the beloved songwriter Fanny Crosby wrote in her hymn, Blessed Assurance,

“This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long.”

He is my story and He is my song.

We live in a time when we are under constant barrage of being told what to do and how to do it. We are told if we are not happy with our lives, then change it, even if it is at the expense of another. We are told to ‘Follow our heart’, no matter what. We are a culture that prizes our personal happiness above all else and if your story doesn’t end happily, then we don’t want to hear it. If you can’t make us laugh and feel good about ourselves, then we don’t want bothered with you. We are told being ‘stuck’ is always a bad thing.

As someone who has been in a ‘stuck’ situation for years — someone who has tried almost everything to get unstuck — someone who has fought against God and those who desired to lead her in God’s way — someone who is finally seeing God’s great love and kindness in the hard things of this life and is learning to persevere and trust in Him daily for all her needs, I would encourage you to proceed carefully if you personally are feeling ‘stuck’ or if you offer words of advice to someone who is in a ‘stuck’ life situation. What we view as ‘stuck’ may very well be the will of God. The hard circumstances that we think should be avoided at all cost, could potentially be the path that leads to true freedom.

What if the hardest parts of this life are actually where God is working in us and through us the most?

As a believer, I consider feeling ‘stuck’ to be cause for serious contemplation before God. Psalm 139 reminds us that God knows every single detail about us and that there is nowhere we can hide from His presence. At the end of the chapter, the Psalmist pleads, ‘Search me O God and know my heart. Try me and know my thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.’ That’s a good place to start for the one who feels trapped in the hard places of life.

So back to my question of am I stuck or am I where I need to be?

I know my answer.

How about you?

“Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?”
Matthew 16:24-26

Sufficient Grace

September 3, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

God, I can’t do this anymore.
My grace is sufficient for you.

But, the load is too heavy.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am all alone.
My grace is sufficient for you.

My tears are hidden.
My grace is sufficient for you.

Broken, dysfunctional relationships are crushing me.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I can’t handle one more meltdown.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am afraid of losing a loved one.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am not good enough.
My grace is sufficient for you.

My future is so uncertain.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I’ve made too many mistakes.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am weak and so very weary.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am afraid.
My grace is sufficient for you.

But God, You’re not listening, I can’t ….
Child, My grace IS sufficient for you.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

His grace is a beacon in the night when we’ve lost our way.

His grace is a lifeboat that lifts us out of the dark waters and carries us safely to shore.

His grace is sufficient in every trial. In every distress. In every storm of life.

His grace is sufficient.

When no other comfort can be found. When no other strength is present. When we stand all alone as the stormy waves crash around and we can scarcely breathe for the sorrow that fills the soul … we can still lift our eyes to heaven and cry out, “Your grace is sufficient, Lord. Even in this. Even for me.“

We rest in His grace alone. He is the strength in our weakness and we boast in Him through every situation and circumstance of life.

This is how we can worship when hopelessness threatens to overpower us.

There is no greater comfort for the believer than His grace.

His sufficient grace.

It is enough.

Rescued.

July 22, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 1 Comment

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”
~Anne Frank~

I don’t know when I have last written nor when I have even given this blog more a passing thought. The world, for many of us, came to a screeching halt back in March, as we were suddenly faced with fears of a worldwide pandemic and all the surreal discord, fear, and anger that continues to threaten to overtake all logic and respect for human dignity and life.

In the process of navigating these issues and working through the overwhelming circumstances within my own family, I found myself unequipped for the battles that awaited me. Courage left first as my greatest foe, Fear, wrapped his tendrils around my heart and mind. His whispers assailed and assaulted me from every side until I could no longer hear the voice of my Savior. My faith began to weaken as my words vanished like a vapor in the night.

I never felt more alone. I never felt more abandoned. I never felt more lost.

Many can toss their words into the wind without thought or care for where they land but that is not how I live. My nature is quiet. Words are often hard for me to share. It took years for me to learn how to talk and begin to share my thoughts with others. It takes courage for me to even look anyone in the eye. It takes courage for me to speak a word that opens the shutters of who I am inside. It takes courage for me to write because I know words to be powerful … whether for good or for evil.

I believed my words were forever lost as I finally fell before my enemy on an isolated battle field, wounded and afraid. Too weary to do anything more than whisper, “Where are You?” and “What have I done? Has it all been for naught?”

My enemy began to turn away, certain of my demise. He knew all along I lacked the courage for a battle of this intensity and that I could be easily defeated. I could hear him laugh in disgust as he walked away, leaving me abandoned in the bloodied dirt. I would have stayed there in misery for the rest of my life …

But God.

In the haunting silence that often follows a particularly brutal battle, I gradually became aware of a different whisper, at first spoken through the voice of a friend/counselor.

“You have to keep feeding your mind Biblical truth. ‘I will never leave you or forsake you… (Hebrew 13:5)’ ‘No one can snatch you out of My hand… (John 10:28) ‘The good shepherd will leave the 99 to seek and save the one that is lost…’ (Luke 15:4-6)“

Over and over I heard the words, “I will leave the 99 to find you.”

I began to recognize the voice of the Shepherd beckoning His lamb who was lost.

The one who thought she had been abandoned. Forgotten. Left behind.

My head lifted as I began to search for my Shepherd and I saw the enemy swivel on his feet as he turned to face me once more. Our eyes locked as he lifted his sword and all I could do was whisper one name …

The name of Jesus.

A shadow fell over me and I saw fear in my enemy’s face as he saw who stood over me ready to fight to protect His own.

The Good Shepherd. My Rescuer.

Jesus Christ.

“For the Lord will not forsake his people; he will not abandon his heritage;…”
Psalm 94:14

I am not sure how much writing I will do as I am honestly trying to figure out how to live truthfully and righteously in the overwhelming and difficult realities of this life and particularly, this season of life. To say I still feel inadequate and unworthy is an understatement but I know these feelings are not to be trusted. I have been called to live as one who has been rescued … and if I write, it must be as one who knows she has been rescued even in the darkest of seasons.

One who has seen the ugliness of the battle field and who has faced almost certain death at the hand of the enemy rarely speaks of her own goodness or fortitude in battle … but rather, she speaks of the One who rescued her when all seemed lost.

She will not attempt to point to anything or anyone other than the One whose very presence can cause darkness to flee. She will gladly stand in the shadow of His presence and trust in His strength as the battles of life continue to rage around her.

She knows she has been rescued and is aware that she has to learn to live in this truth, even when every circumstance in her life seems to tell her otherwise.

So I write these words and offer them to you as one who is planting the minuscule seeds of courage in hopes that it will grow once more.

“Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness. Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me. This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I have hope in Him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the person who seeks Him. It is good that he waits silently for the salvation of the Lord.“
Lamentations 3:19-26

Come and Dine

January 10, 2020January 10, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

**This is Part one of a series on focusing on the value and beauty of reading God’s Word.**

You’re hungry.

As a pilgrim on a long, and often, arduous journey, you find yourself so weary that you might not even realize how famished you are until a door opens and the first wafting aroma of prepared food hits your senses.

Your stomach growls as your hands begin to tremble.

You step inside and discover a dining table completely hidden beneath the abundance of every wonderful kind of food you can imagine. Substantial food meant to nourish and strengthen the body. Nourishing soups, healthy vegetables, hearty meats — foods intended to fuel your body for the demands of the day.

Off to the side you notice another table filled with sugary desserts. The kind that are appealing and pretty, all sugar and fluff. Experience tells you they are sweet and easy to eat, but lack the nourishing qualities of the more sustaining, life-giving food at the first table.

Your body craves nourishment but from which table will you choose to eat?

Will you bypass the table of substantial foods to satiate your cravings with sugary fluff from the dessert table, simply because it provides an immediate, yet temporary relief from your hunger and tastes so sweet? Will you eat your fill of it until you no longer crave anything more?

Or will you sit at the first table and fill your plate and body with meat, vegetables, and fruits until your strength is renewed?

Which will you choose?

No, this isn’t a post about changing our lifestyles, ditching junk foods, or focusing on whole food diets, plant based diets, or anything of the sort.

Friends, what we feed our souls and minds is so much more important that what we feed our bellies.

*
*

I grew up in a church that valued the Word of God. Now, that doesn’t mean how the Bible was interpreted and taught was necessarily always correct, as the church functioned within a strong legalistic-minded belief system. But there was an emphasis made on the Scriptures and I always had a Bible readily available to me, memorizing significant portions of it throughout my childhood.

However, I did not read my Bible consistently on my own nor did I always understand what I read. Therefore, as I listened to a message or Bible lesson, I simply accepted what that person said to be truth; After all, they read a verse from the Bible supporting their thoughts, so it had to be true, right? I never learned how to study the Bible and certainly questioning anyone was never an option in that environment, but I would do my best to read simply so I could check that duty off of my ‘How to be a good Christian’ to-do list.

The truth of it? Reading my Bible was a chore … a constant source of guilt from not remembering to read it daily or from reading it through the lens of poor theology.

As a young adult, I began attending a new church and eventually married, which began to awaken a hunger for something more. I found myself in a life that was not being supported very well by the shaky spiritual foundation of my youth. A variety of books came my way and I began to devour these writings by Christian authors because they flowed so easily and made me feel somewhat better. I thought I would finally find some answers to the burning hunger inside me. In the mornings, I would sit at the table with my Bible and these books. I intended to spend time in the Scriptures but those books were so much more appealing so I was drawn to them first. I didn’t have to think … I just read the thoughts of another. They became my bible.

But then life began to grow more challenging and confusing, while the hunger inside of me deepened. I couldn’t find the answers nor the guidance I needed in those books I was reading. They weren’t enough. There was no real substance to them in the face of trial and heartache. There had to be more. I turned to my Bible again but often grew frustrated with the antiquated language, the poor theology/teaching of my past, and my overall lack of understanding.

I was starving — spiritually starving.

My spiritual foundation began to shake and crumble into dust beneath me.

One Christmas, I decided to buy my husband a new Bible. He still used a paperback student Bible from his youth and I thought if he had a different Bible, then maybe, well, maybe something would change. I asked for guidance from a man in our church and that Christmas, I wrapped up a new study Bible, in a version I knew nothing about, and gave it to my husband.

And you know what? Change did begin to happen … in me.

One morning, out of curiosity, I opened his Bible and began to read familiar passages. They were the same, yet different. The clear wording and the study notes at the bottom of each page opened an entirely new world to me and even though there was still so much I didn’t understand, I began to delve into the pages of God’s Word in a way I never had before. I began to feast at the table God had set before me. Eventually, I received my very own copy of the Scriptures like I had bought my husband – I was overjoyed and dug in deeper.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…”
Psalm 23:5a

But life only became more perplexing. I went from being in church services all the time to sitting in a nursery or backroom with my autistic son and my other babies. Fellowship with other believers became increasingly more rare as I spent day after day caring for my children and night after night staying awake with my son. My world grew very small until it became a journey of walking through a barren desert of isolation.

This is when God’s Word started to become more real to me.

At the recommendation of someone who expressed concern for me and my children, I visited a different church. I needed help. My children needed help. I was desperate. After one solo visit on a Wednesday evening, I was intrigued by the teaching and began taking my younger children to their kids Bible club program. Within a short period of time, I moved my whole family to this church. The clear teaching of Scriptures, whether from the pulpit or in counsel, presented without drama or harshness, drew me in and began the process of building a new foundation in my life and in the lives of my children. A foundation built on the Word of God.

Ironically enough, life did not become any easier. I tried to get involved, to be part of the church community and find my niche, but it didn’t work, largely due to the needs of my autistic son. I made sure my younger children were at every service and every event, but I rarely had the freedom nor the stamina to participate myself. My world grew smaller as I cared for my son with autism and began homeschooling my other children. I just could not understand God’s plan in all of this as the journey grew increasingly dark.

This is when the Word of God became my Light and that … changed everything.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet
And a light to my path.”
Psalm 119:105

Come and dine, won’t you?

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Some Golden Daybreak – for me, for you

January 2, 2020January 2, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I didn’t have any intention of writing today and rather hoped to withdraw inside myself for awhile … but these words wouldn’t stop until they were written, although hastily written they certainly are. Perhaps someone else could use them too.

I woke and immediately a sense of sadness began to fill my slowly stirring mind.

My autistic son was heading back to school today and while I should have been relieved to finally get a break, I felt a heavy weight instead. This holiday break had been challenging … no, actually it was downright hard in many ways. The first few days weren’t too bad but by the second day after Christmas, everything fell apart.

He can’t tell me what is wrong so I learn by observation, but even at that, I can never assume I know what is happening inside of him. However, one thing was very evident … he gave every impression of being consumed with anxiety.

Yes, he is on medication. Yes, I also use supplements for him.

Sometimes, they aren’t enough.

This was one of those times.

By the last evening before his return to school, I was curled up on the couch, unable to fight one more battle. My heart raced, my chest ached from a heavy weight of grief, I was devoid of strength. Trying to grasp what I could not possibly understand, while working to support my son and stay ahead of whatever was gripping his mind, was suddenly too much.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t speak. I just held a blanket against my chest and prayed for bedtime to come. Relief for us both.

That relief was nowhere to be found when I woke in the early morning hours even as the house rested quietly around me. I couldn’t escape the memories nor the heavy weight and overwhelming sense of responsibility.

The burden felt too great for my shoulders alone.

Often, while reading articles or perusing comments to articles or new stories, I find a mocking response towards the ones who seek the Lord in times of distress.

“Religion is a waste of time”, they say. “There is no God.”

Their tone condescending, their words belittling … they deny the very truth we stand on as believers and followers of Christ.

I understand.

Sometimes as believers, even we wonder if what we believe is really true.

Oh, most of us will never admit that but when the storms of life hit and knock you senseless to the ground, a quick instinctive response often rips from the depths of our soul …

“GOD! Where are you?!”

Where is He …

For the widow who weeps alone today, recently bereft of the love of her husband?

For the daughter, who longs for his embrace?

For the mother who prayed and longed for her prodigal child to return for so many years, only to see her go further away?

For the grandma beside the grave of the grandson she raised?

For the heartbroken widow, remarried and finding herself in a horrendous situation?

For the wife waiting for the cancer to win the last round?

For the mother broken with sorrow for a child she doesn’t know how to help?

These are my friends, my family, my sisters in the Lord … the ones in my prayers this morning.

Each has been forever touched by sorrow.

“God! Where are you?”

We are not alone in our brokenness and one does not need to search long before finding Scripture that seem to echo the very words coursing through us with each beat of a troubled heart …

“Be not far from me, for trouble is near; For there is none to help.”
Psalm 22:11

Give ear to my words, O Lord,
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God,
For to You I pray.
In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
Psalm 5:1-3

As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So my soul pants for You, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God;
When shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my food day and night,
While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
Psalm 42:1-3

Where is He?

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18

He is near to you.

As hard as it is to grasp sometimes when we feel alone in the journey, the Lord does know what we are walking through when seasons of grief and sorrow come our way. We can find a measure of comfort in that He knows what we are experiencing for He has walked the way of grief as well.

“He was despised and forsaken of men,
A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
And like one from whom men hide their face
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.”
Isaiah 53:3

I walked into my kitchen just as the sun was breaking over the horizon. The barren trees stood starkly against the background of dark blues, gentle pinks, and subtle oranges. The bird feeder swayed quietly from the branches without a single bird to be seen. This view from my kitchen window drew me outside, despite the frosty chill, until I stood in wonder of a beautiful sunrise after the grief of a weary night. What a loving God to paint glorious sunrises with the promise of the most beautiful one yet to come.

Some glorious morning sorrow will cease
Some glorious morning all will be peace
Heartaches all ended, school days all done
Heaven will open – Jesus will come.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Sad hearts will gladden, all shall be bright
Goodbye forever to earth’s dark night
Changed in a moment, like Him to be
Oh, glorious daybreak, Jesus I’ll see.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Oh, what a meeting, there in the skies
No tears nor crying shall dim our eyes
Loved ones united eternally
Oh, what a daybreak that morn will be.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.
(written by Carl A. Blackmore)

To the ones who would mock and consider me a fool for placing my trust in a Savior they believe doesn’t exist, I’m actually okay with that and I don’t blame you. I do believe the day will come that you will understand the truth upon which I live.

But to the ones who know the voice of their Shepherd and are walking through a pathway of sorrow, I hope you find encouragement and strength in His Word to face today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Before my son left this morning, I stood beside him as he sat on his char, waiting for his van to arrive. I felt powerless and helpless, until I did the only thing I could … I placed my hand on his shoulder and began to pray. I prayed until my hand moved to the top of his head and my voice broke from the tears as I pleaded with Jesus for more.
“Give him more, Jesus. Give him more.”

That is my prayer for you today as well.

“Give her more, Jesus. Give her more.”

Friends, a glorious daybreak is coming when all the sin and sorrow that plagues this earth will cease and Jesus will come to restore what was once broken. No more autism. No more cancer. No more death. No more grief. No more tears.

Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

December 31, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

We stand at the dawn of a new year.

The time when we diligently make new goals, bravely set (or reset last year’s) resolutions, and in general, feel a need to shake things up.

Make changes or possibly, insist we are fine, just as we are.

In any case, be the master of our own destiny.

But what does that look like for the believer? For the one who seeks to follow God?

Here are my thoughts … offered hesitantly and humbly.

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As a child, I had hopes and dreams, albeit they were mostly simple and shallow. For example, driving home from church on a summer Sunday evening and hoping that my Dad would skip the turn to go home and instead go straight towards the local dairy parlor for ice cream.

Their chocolate ice cream was so good!

I never asked him but he knew we always wanted ice cream. Each drive home from church, I would sit in the backseat, silently wishing and repeating over and over, “Go straight, Dad … please go straight.”

If the car still turned towards home, I would be disappointed but never upset. I could wish for an ice cream cone all I wanted but, as my father, it was his decision whether or not it was a good time to provide it.

As a child, I was dependent on my father to provide and even when I didn’t understand, I usually trusted him.

Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!
Matthew 7:9-11

We human beings tend to be independent, rather self-focused creatures, wouldn’t you agree? We want what we want, when we want it. We want comfort, security, success, the admiration of others … and more independence.

As a teenager, I often frustrated my Dad because I never told him when I needed something. When I was driving one of his vehicles, I never mentioned if I needed gas money. I would simply take money from my birthday stash and put gas in the car. Some of it may have been family circumstances at the time, but a large part of it was a stubborn independent instinct that had been stirred awake. If I needed something, I instinctively searched for ways to provide it for myself. I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. I didn’t want to be a bother. I probably hoped that my Dad would give me gas money, but I certainly didn’t ask.

Not asking became normal. Discouraging any hopeful expectation became a habit.

So I was surprised many years later, when my current Pastor mentioned that I don’t seem to ask God for very much. After being a witness and a voice of counsel on my journey for a number of years, he finally said, “Tanya, you really need to learn to ask God for more.”

I was taken aback.

What? Ask God for more?

Why did that seem so … scary?

Why did my instinct scream that I couldn’t possibly ask God for more?

Well, like many of us, I have very distinct memories of God not answering my prayers.

The desperate prayers of a young teenager who didn’t feel she could face another day as she soaked her pillow with tears each night.

The heartsick, confused young wife, still staining a pillow with tears as she struggled to understand.

The broken tears of a mother as she watched autism steal her son away.

I couldn’t ask God for more because deep inside, I had stopped trusting Him.

He didn’t answer my prayers the way I had pleaded with Him to do for so many years.

When I begged Him to move life straight forward towards that coveted chocolate ice cream cone, He turned onto a road that led a different direction. Definitely not where I wanted to go. He didn’t give me what I asked for and eventually, I stopped trusting Him. I stopped asking.

Sure, I paid lip service to Him but deep inside, I became more intent on being independent. I would find a way to survive this life He had given me. I would do something good with it. I would say I trusted Him … and yet, I never did as I held tightly onto the reins of my life.

“Tanya, ask God for more.”

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The very nature of my life does not allow for much freedom so the concept of asking for ‘more’ seems counterintuitive and pointless. The details of why this is are not important to this post but my journey has often been one of a solitary pilgrim walking in a hidden, desert place. I fought this journey for years, desperate for a life that allowed the freedoms that I watched others enjoy. I resented the restrictions of my life and struggled with a deep bitterness. I pushed hard to find ways to gain more freedom and independence and, in the process, wore myself out and received no blessing from the Lord. Essentially, it was more His will to keep me hidden, than flying free. My life began to resemble a bird imprisoned inside a cage. I longed for freedom but the circumstances of my life were as bars surrounding me, preventing my escape.

I beat my wings against those bars, trying to break my way out until I was completely broken inside. Then I set about making that bird cage the nicest it could be. If I had to be stuck, it was at least going to be a noteworthy cage. But, the One who has allowed all the restricting portions of my life has never allowed me to have my own way. He purposed to teach me how to live the life I have from the only One who knew how.

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

Spending time in the Scriptures, learning of Him, seeking Him in all the hidden details of my life, is bringing about an understanding that far surpasses the God of my childhood.

I have studied His character and I am learning to find rest in His sovereignty and grace. I am continually learning that God is good. He is so good to me.

The Lord, the Lord God, merciful
and gracious, longsuffering, and
abounding in goodness and truth.
Exodus 34:6

You know, I may have been disappointed when I did not get that chocolate ice cream cone as a young child, but it never changed how I viewed my Dad. I spent enough time with him to understand his character and that I could trust him even when he didn’t give me what I wanted.

When we invest time in our relationship with the Lord, we learn the character and nature of our God and this is actually what sustains and carries us through the hard seasons of life. We might not understand the purpose of our suffering but we find all we need when we understand the character of the God who allows it. When we depend on Him as the source of our strength, He takes on the yoke of our burden and walks beside us on our journey. He teaches us how to live this life the way Jesus lived His earthly life … sacrificially and honoring to God the Father.

As we live in the knowledge of His character, our response to hardship will change from, “God, why are You doing this to me?” to “God, I trust that You have allowed this in my life so teach me how to walk through it Your way.”

In the last 14 years, God has pretty much taken away every crutch I have ever used to limp my way through this life. He has not answered many of my prayers in the way I wanted. But instead, He has been doing something else altogether.

During the hardest seasons when I think I can’t take one more step, He is there carrying me through. When I don’t know what to do next, He provides direction. When I want to give up, He never lets me. Sometimes He tarries and lets me wait in silence. Sometimes He allows me to back myself into a position where I am forced to take an unwanted step … and then I see Him move on my behalf in amazing ways. His grace sustains me, His strength carries me.

Through it all what remains true is that the character of God is unchanging. He is good and pure in all His ways. When we can’t see the way in front of us because of the fiercest storms, we can trust the Captain who guides our ship.

This is what I have learned of my God while waiting as a bird, in a bird cage.

O taste and see that the Lord is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
Psalm 34:8

So more recently, when I heard our Pastor give a charge to our church body to ask God for ‘more’, it became a thing of beauty as I pondered the past and looked towards the future. ‘More’ became a word of hope … of promise.

Oh God, I want more of You. I want to be more of a gentle, quiet, burning candle shining fervently with the light of your mercy, love, and grace. I want more of You in the lives of my children. Please God, I want more. More of a life that is led by You and not by my own fear or selfish ambitions. I want to be more dependent on You and less dependent on myself. I want more. More dying of self and more love for others. Less of me and more of You. I want to trust You more when I don’t understand the journey and the loneliness of it threatens to steal my joy away. I want more of the work of the Holy Spirit in the depths of my being and outpouring in the fruits of my life … even if You are the only One who ever sees. Oh God, I ask You for more.

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Set all the goals you wish for this upcoming year of 2020 … but my challenge for you, for my children, and for myself is to walk with God more. Learn more of Him from His Word. Spend more time in prayer. Seek more of Him in every detail of your life. Confess and repent more of sin. Let nothing stand between you and God. Die more to self. Put Him first above all. Please join me in asking God for more … more of Himself.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

*Turn your eyes upon Jesus – hymn written by Helen Howorth Lemmel

Jesus is Still in the Boat

December 9, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I took my son to the doctor for a physical this past week. I know, I know … probably not a news-worthy story to most people. I understand. But in my world, this was a matter of significance and great importance. My son is 18 years old now, of considerable size, has autism … and anything medical related is scary, But, due to a different need, this physical was required. You see, my son also has a life-long, intense anxiety regarding dentists, which inhibits even the most basic of exams. A couple of months ago, I finally learned of and reached out to a new dentist who offers sedation dentistry at a surgical center near their office, well over an hour away from our home. This dentist specializes in children, but also works with special needs adults … many of whom share my son’s fears. With the support of his teacher, we attempted a consultation visit with the dentist, which by the standards of most was not successful, but allowed him to be scheduled for sedation. The dentist assured me that they would take him on as a patient and, with those words, a significant burden began to lift from my shoulders.

The process to be seen for sedation is quite involved, both from the surgery center’s viewpoint as well as, from the needs of my son, so I have been working towards this appointment for the last couple of months. It has been a stressful but I was so thankful. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel as alone in this particular battle. I paid the upfront expenses and scheduled the sedation appointment. All the pieces were coming together fairly well so that the only major task left was the physical, which was required by the surgery center to clear him for sedation.

Now, my son is only slightly less fearful of doctors than he is of dentists so I was concerned about the success of this appointment; However, medical desensitization is a goal written into his IEP at his specialized autism school. Staff have been working with him, as I have been, for a number of years and he has made progress. I was nervous but hopeful the appointment would go well enough that the doctor would be able to supply the information the surgery center needed.

In a situation such as this, all I can do is prepare my son as much as possible, support him every step of the way, pray (pretty much without ceasing), and trust the Lord for the outcome.

My son was successful with this physical in the eyes of the Doctor, his teacher who was there to support him, and especially me. Even though he refused to allow certain things, we were able to do more than ever before and the doctor cleared him for sedation. We were so proud of him!

I was incredibly thankful as it appeared all was well and going according to plan. We just had one more week until his sedation appointment and then the worry of his teeth and the weight of this appointment would be behind me … just in time to focus exclusively on the Christmas season.

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I have been reading the book of Luke this advent season, trying to read a chapter a day so that I can finish the account on Christmas Eve. It is so easy to lose sight of why we observe this most treasured of holidays in the midst of all the bustle of festivities and concerns of this life, so I decided to focus my reading on the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Christ. I started out a day behind and, as a result, I ended up reading Luke 5 on December 6th, this past Friday. Now, I have read the story of Jesus telling Simon to take his boat out to the deep waters and cast his nets countless times before. It isn’t new to me. But on this particular morning, as I read Simon’s response, my breath caught and to my surprise, tears filled my eyes.

Now it happened that while the crowd was pressing around Him and listening to the word of God, He was standing by the lake of Gennesaret; and He saw two boats lying at the edge of the lake; but the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. And He got into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, and asked him to put out a little way from the land. And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”Simon answered and said, ‘Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as you say and let down the nets.’ (verses 1-5)

Wow, Simon’s words reverberated through me with considerable force. I have worked for years trying to help my son. I would take him to the doctor by myself and those appointments were battles. Very real battles. I tried taking him to the dentist and those battles were even uglier. I would drive him once a week to a dentist office 45 minutes away just to work on desensitizing him by myself. My attempts to take him places backfired. Special diets were not helpful. Special therapies did little. I rarely, if ever, saw any fruit from the labor. I grew exhausted from the continual battles and lack of help. My nets were always empty.

This grew into a discouragement in its rawest form. Trying to help a child who is not typical in any way and who was unable to respond to my efforts. Carrying the weight of those nets myself without a single soul to help. Learning to hide those failures from others because I knew they simply couldn’t relate and often would condemn. Feeling guilty that my best efforts weren’t enough. Building walls to protect us both. Feeling frightened for the days ahead.

I know a thing or two about empty nets.

But let’s look at what happened when Simon obeyed the command of Jesus, even though his own experience and earthly knowledge must have counselled him otherwise?

“When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink.” (verses 6-7)

All night Simon and his companions had worked casting their nets into the waters, yet not catching a single fish. They must have been weary and discouraged with their circumstances and nothing to show for their labor. But once Jesus stepped into his boat and told him try again, their nets were soon filled to the point of breaking and sinking their boats because of all of the fish! What was the difference?

Jesus was in the boat.

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A few years ago, I sat in my boat and looked at my empty nets. I was at my end and uncertain how I could possibly face another day. Then Jesus stepped into my boat and told me to go out into the deep waters once more and cast my nets. I was undeniably weary from my own efforts so with broken faith, I obeyed the voice of my Savior. I cast those nets in waters that I had fished countless times before but this time, something odd began to happen. Over time, doors began to open that had been previously closed. Support arose from places that had been hidden before. My son slowly began to mature and make the kind of progress I had given up on ever seeing. While the journey was (and continues to be) still hard, it was clear that Jesus was in the boat.

As I read the interaction between Jesus and Simon in Luke 5 this time, I became overwhelmed with thankfulness. My best efforts in the past produced empty nets because even though I prayed, I usually worked in my own sufficiency, while rooted in fear. But with Jesus in the boat, I have seen full nets on many occasions. So that morning, as I read Luke 5 and contemplated the upcoming sedation dentist appointment for my son, I hoped for and anticipated the same kind of results. I was anxious to see a net full of fish.

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The surgery center called a few hours later. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, I sensed something was wrong. It took her a moment before she could say the words … the anesthesia team had reviewed all the information regarding my son and decided they could not accommodate him at their facility. So, after months of working towards this goal and just one week away from the appointment, they cancelled his sedation surgery.

Shock is really the only word I have for what I was feeling as I listened to the nurse and then the anesthesiologist who explained their reasoning. As their words echoed through my mind, I could only think of the amount of work, time, prayer, worry to the point of sickness, and lack of sleep that have occurred over these last two months as I have worked towards this long-awaited goal. I was stunned to have it so abruptly halted without any sense of resolution. The hope I had felt for the first time was ripped from my grasp.

Heartbroken silence surrounded me as I stood at the edge of my boat, staring blankly into the depths of the waters around me, with nothing but empty nets to show. I never felt more alone.

But …

Jesus was still in the boat.

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It is advent season, a time to observe and ponder the earthly arrival, ministry, and sacrifice of Jesus, the Son of the Most High. As a Christian, this is a most precious and joyous time.

In the book of Mathew, the first chapter begins with the genealogy of Jesus and then gives the account of the angel talking to Joseph in a dream as he considered what to do with Mary, his espoused wife.

“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Emmanuel” (which means “God with us”). Mathew 1:20-23

Emmanuel … God with us.

We often enter this blessed season with great expectations of tidy, neat gifts under the tree, happy children, cooperative and loving families, Christmas plays and cantatas, good will and kindness, and well, perfection. But what do we do when we enter this season and our realities simply do not match those expectations? What do we do when we don’t get what we wish for … or even long for?

At this point, I am unsure what to do about meeting the dental needs of my son. I have learned that people around me simply do not grasp what this journey has been like, even those in my own household, so once more, it feels a lonely and heavy weight. I threw the nets where I believed the Lord was directing me and yet, here I sit with them empty once more. In the days since the phone call, I have been praying in the quiet, letting all of this sink in, and considering the next steps, as the name, Emmanuel has been echoing through the silence …

God with us.

Friends, this is our hope always but, most especially during a Christmas season when circumstances are difficult and we are unsure what to do next. We can remember the fact that Jesus, the very Son of God, humbled Himself and came to Earth in the form of a baby. We can ponder the works He did and the words He spoke as He walked this world. We can consider the depth of His sacrifice on the cross as He suffered and died on our behalf so that we could be free from sin and death. We can rest and rejoice in the fact that He rose from the dead and now sits at the right hand of God the Father, interceding on our behalf.

Because we believe this to be true, based on the Word of God, we are never alone, no matter the circumstances, challenges, or trials we face. He is our source of comfort and strength. He will fill our empty nets in His time and in His way.

Emmanuel … God with us.

Jesus is still in the boat.

His Mercies are New Every Morning

October 20, 2019October 20, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

Guilt.

There is an appropriate time and place for guilt. When we have done wrong, that sense of guilt can be God-given and God-honoring if we respond rightly. If we are Christians, the Holy Spirit convicts us for the purpose of repentance, restoration, and redemption.

We repent, God forgives, we move on … it is that simple.

As far as the east is from the west,
So far has He removed our transgressions from us.
Psalm 103:12

For many of us, however, it isn’t always that simple. Some of us walk our journeys with the weight of guilt and shame bundled in heavy sacks across our shoulders. It impacts every step we take. It clouds every thought. It makes the day to day tasks even more exhausting. It is a brutal way to live.

Sometimes people speak highly of us and while we are appreciative of the kind words, inwardly we cringe and think, ‘Oh, if they only knew.’

How often have we said or heard another woman say, ‘I should have handled that differently’ or ‘I should have made a different decision’ or ‘Maybe I should have done this instead’ or ‘If only I had …’?

How many of us build walls and hide ourselves from people around us as a result?

Probably more than we realize.

I’ve been pondering and working through these thoughts for years but more intensely over the last few weeks as I have been entrenched in an ugly battle with anxiety and fear. The kind that awakens the old gremlins in my stomach so they start tearing me apart as though they are trying to escape. The kind of battles that refuse to let me sleep as my brain relentlessly recounts all the times I have messed something up. The kind that make me afraid to write because I feel like a sham. The kind that makes me afraid to talk with people because I feel worthless. The kind that drives me into the deepest recesses of my mind so I can hide from everything.

This is me. This is the battle I have been fighting my entire life.

Every decision in my life has been made out of fear. Every decision I have avoided making has been due to fear. Literally every step in my life has been dictated by fear.

That much fear cultivates the soil perfectly for guilt seeds to thrive.

Those guilt seeds, in a sensitive-natured person like myself, quickly become an overgrown weedy patch of shame … which, in turn, triggers a whole lot more anxiety and fear.

Talk about a nasty cycle.

I have a series I’ve been contemplating writing that would highlight the lessons God is teaching me through all of this … but for today, I want to share only a few thoughts that might be useful for someone else.

Sometimes we carry guilt simply because our perspective of a situation is wrong.

Sometimes we carry guilt for sins not confessed.

Sometimes we carry guilt for sins confessed but our pride refuses to release.

Let me share a personal example as an illustration …

When my son was diagnosed with autism years ago, there were still articles and people around that blamed the mother for autism. ‘Refrigerator Mother’ was still a relatively common term. There were (and are) still plenty of articles and people around who will blame a mother if her child doesn’t progress well on the autism journey.

I carried guilt for years that my son’s autism was my fault. I carried guilt for years that the severity of my son’s autism was my fault. That guilt I carried never allowed me to simply grieve the diagnosis so we could live the life we had been given.

Logically I can understand that I did not cause my son’s autism. But the guilt I carried, compounded by my fearful/selfish nature and other difficult life circumstances, caused me to make decisions (or avoid making decisions) that may have impacted my son’s autism journey.

To carry guilt that my son has autism is foolish. That is a guilt that was never mine to carry.

However, I am responsible for what I did after the diagnosis … and yes, I do tend to carry a lot of guilt because I know I could have handled things better. It took years for me to learn how to be his mother and love him well. We have grown up together in many ways.

Now, to confess poor decisions from the past before the Lord is wise and the correct thing to do. To continually beat myself up over past poor decisions is foolish and is mostly likely a sign of pride.

Here is another example …

My attends a private autism school while I homeschool his siblings. I used to struggle with guilt that I was sending him away even though I knew he needed the resources that a specialized school could provide and I needed those resources as well. This was a misplaced guilt.

However, if I don’t attend meetings or implement behavioral strategies at home, then guilt would be valid. But sending him to an environment where he can best learn and then investing that time into his siblings is not a valid occasion for guilt.

Does that make sense?

Lamentations 3 has been a source of encouragement to me on this journey and I want to share it here so these beautiful words of hope might encourage someone else.

Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness. Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me.
This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope.
The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,“Therefore I have hope in Him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the person who seeks Him.
It is good that he waits silently for the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:19-26

It is important to spend time with the Lord concerning issues that invite a sense of guilt or shame. Sometimes it is even helpful to talk them through with a wise and trustworthy counselor, Pastor, or friend who can share insight that we may not see. Where there is sin to be confessed, we absolutely need to do so and then leave it at the cross. If the sense of guilt or shame is not rooted in sin, then we need to learn to speak truth into the lies and walk freely.

It is imperative to learn how to discern between God-given guilt due to sin and our human tendency to feel of guilt/shame concerning issues that have nothing to do with sin.

However, in each and every case, we need to remember that the Lord’s lovingkindness never ceases and His mercies are new every morning.

Every day is a new opportunity to make wise decisions.

Every day is a new opportunity to do the right thing.

Every day is a new opportunity to choose not to define our lives by misplaced guilt and shame from the past but to find our identity in Christ alone.

Great is His faithfulness!

He Knows My Name

September 20, 2019September 21, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

Hagar, the slave of Sarah and the mother of Abraham’s son, Ishmael, sat alone, forgotten, and rejected in a desert place, waiting for her son and then herself to die. God heard their cries and had compassion on them. An angel appeared to her and promised that Ishmael would live and that God would make of him a great nation. Then he opened her eyes to a nearby well of water and the Bible tells us that God was with Ishmael as he grew. (Genesis 21:8-21)

She was an unwanted and rejected slave … but God knew her name.

Rahab, a prostitute who lived in Jericho hid the two Hebrew spies from certain death and then helped them escape safely. Her life and the lives of her families were saved as a result and she was included in the line of Christ. (Joshua 2:1-24)

She was a prostitute, a harlot … but God knew her name.

The poor widow was desperate as her two sons were about to be sold into slavery to cover a payment of debt. She cried out to the Prophet Elisha for help and God used him to provide miraculous means to cover those debts. (2 Kings 4:1-7)

She was a poor, indebted widow … but God knew her name.

The woman at the well, who came to draw her water alone because of the shame of her her broken life, was the reason Jesus needed to pass through Samaria. Most Jewish men would not have given her a passing glance but Jesus sought her out and as a result, many from her town believed in Christ. (John 4)

She lived a broken, promiscuous life … but God knew her name.

Because God knew each of their names, their lives were forever changed.

^“Are not five sparrows sold for two cents? Yet not one of them is forgotten before God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.”
Luke 12:6,7

He knows my name.

Such beautiful words to ponder!

He knows my name.

God, the Creator of this world and everything within it, the God of Abraham, Jacob, and Isaac, I Am …

He knows my name.

Me. The youngest of three children. The quietest and the least of these … He knows my name.

Me. The one who was not the first choice, nor the second, nor the third … but rather chosen as a last resort. Not wanted nor especially loved … He knows my name.

Me. The one who remains most often in seclusion as a caregiver, usually in the background, relatively invisible and unseen … He knows my name.

An absolute nobody from the middle of nowhere.

He knows my name.

Because of that, my life has been forever changed too.

“O Lord You have searched me and known me!”
Psalm 139:1

What a amazing God is this who looks upon the ones the world often casts aside and chooses them for His own! What a debt of gratitude I owe and how my spirit longs to live in such a way to reflect His amazing love to others.

There is no one like Him.

^“There is none like You, O Lord;
You are great, and great is Your name in might.”
Jeremiah 10:6

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