Suffering

Why Do I Read the Bible?

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With a focus on approaching this post, I shared two parts previously – if you have not read them, you can find them here -> Come and Dine and The Redeemed Journey.  

**I actually wrote this a few weeks ago but did not have it quite ready to share before a crisis rocked my world.  I am now rewriting portions and finishing it to share, while standing more firmly on the necessity of spending time in and knowing God’s Word.**

 

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight,
O Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.
Psalm 19:14

 

Why do I read God’s Word?

A number of years ago, I was often tossed about with the storms of life.  My sense of identity was lacking in every way and as I dug deeper in my relationship with the Lord, I began to understand that I had a mostly distorted view of Him and this distorted view was impacting every facet of my life.

The obvious response to this awareness was to open the Bible at the very beginning and start reading.  As I read, I asked the Lord to enlighten the eyes of my heart and help me to know Him better through His Word … and He was faithful to do so.

 “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might…”
Ephesians 1:18-19

I began to realize how often we try to define God by our own belief system.  We think a certain way, so therefore, that is how we view God.  We attempt to keep Him in a box based on our own limited understanding.  We want Him to revolve around us and are often prone to elevating ourselves into a position that belongs to Him alone.

The deeper I dug into the Scriptures and the more I read with a heart seeking instruction and understanding, the more in awe I grew of this Holy God.

Wow.  

I was that stunned with the glory and magnificence of the One who proclaimed, ‘I am Who I am’ to Moses. (Exodus 3:14)

 The more I read, the more reverent my behavior and attitude grew towards Him.  The more I read, the less I wanted to argue with Him.  The more I read, the more I was okay with what I didn’t know or couldn’t understand.  The more I read, the more I learned to trust Him in all things.  The more I read, the more I wanted to know … Him.

Even now, as I try to write this words, my soul is thrilled beyond description at the focused reminder of Who God says He is, while I am disheartened by my own inability to translate that into words.

God is that glorious.

Listen, there are going to be an abundance of times when life is not going to make any sense and we may often find ourselves tossed to and fro’ by the storms of this life and/or our own sinful natures.  If I am asked, my response is going to be, read God’s Word.  Don’t read looking for easy answers … don’t read looking for something to make you feel better about yourself … don’t read looking for something to attack another person with … open the Bible with a heart seeking after God.

“Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice, and be gracious to me. 
When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.”
Psalm 27:7-8

I read the Bible because I want to know Him.

Why do I read the Word of God?

An interesting thing began to happen as I spent more and more time reading and meditating on the Word.  I began to recognize the voice of my Shepherd.

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me…”
John 10:27

There are so many ‘voices’ in this world telling us what is right and wrong, telling us what to think, and surrounding us with their earthly ‘wisdom’.  I admit I was a fairly naive and gullible person for most of my life.  I believed the best of people and simply could not comprehend evil.  I listened to all sorts of voices and by the time I became a more seasoned mother, I realized I was not very wise when it came to discerning the truth.

So for a time, I set aside every book on my bookshelf and I began to only read the Bible, simply because I did not want to hear the voice of man … I wanted to hear what God said Himself.

Oh God, how I long to know You!

During this season, which lasted several years, I was often in the church building but rarely receiving any teaching.  I cared for my children, I cared for my son with autism, I had little to no fellowship, and conversation was limited to occasional times of counsel.

People virtually had no input into my life so I read God’s Word … I prayed constantly … and I listened.

I learned to recognize the voice of my Shepherd.

What a beautiful voice it is.

I read my Bible because I always want His voice to be preeminent above all.

Why do I read my Bible? 

Our human nature and instinct are strong and often become our guiding force as we live our lives.  We are geared towards self-preservation at all costs.  We believe our hearts are good and we make decisions grounded in this belief system.

However, the Bible tells us otherwise.

“The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick;
Who can understand it?”
Jeremiah 17:9

I know from experience that left to myself, I will always make decisions based on my own desires, wants, and comforts … usually at the expense of those around me and even to my own detriment. Current culture tells us this is the way we should live; In fact, much of current ‘Christian’ culture proclaims this as truth.  Do whatever makes you happy.

As I grew in understanding of who God says He is and as I grew to recognize the voice of my Shepherd, I became increasingly aware of my own deceitful, selfish heart.  I realized that the way I was living and the choices I was making in response to life’s challenges, were rooted in pure selfishness.  So with the Lord’s help, I drew a line in the sand and began making a series of decisions, against my instincts and earthly wisdom, and I chose to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

Then Jesus said to His disciples,
“If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself,
and take up his cross and follow Me.
Matthew 16:24

“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 11:29-30

Each moment that I looked to Christ as my example on how to deny myself and live sacrificially for Him, I was reminded over and over of the words of our brother Paul …

“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live,
but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh
I live by faith in the Son of God,
who loved me and gave Himself up for me.”
Galatians 2:20

 

I read the Bible so that I may learn how to live, no longer controlled by my nature and instincts, but rather by the example of the cross … a life lived sacrificially and purposefully for His glory.

 

Why do I read the Bible?

The way we live, the words we say, the example we set, do not go unnoticed by others.

I used to believe I was an island.  Since my life was so isolated and my identity so broken, I believed no one saw me or cared.   I did not consider the possibility that others might be watching me.  But it turns out, they are.

My children watch me constantly.  Others, I have been told, are watching me too.  The same is true for you.

Consider this for a moment …

What we feed ourselves, what we allow to settle into our minds, what we think on and meditate on … this is what we will have to give to others.

“Watch over your heart with all diligence,
For from it flow the springs of life.”
Proverbs 4:23

Whether we feed on the wisdom of this world or the wisdom of God, it will be what we have to offer to our children, our families, our friends, and anyone with whom we interact.

It will also be what sustains us or cripples us during seasons of difficulty.

If I regularly feast on sugary sweets and then enter a season of famine, my body will have nothing to sustain it until my next real meal.  I will not have strength even for myself, let alone to offer to others who may depend on me or look to me.

However, if I consistently nourish myself with life-building foods, I will have strength for myself and for those around me until I am able to partake once more.

So, in that light, if I regularly fill myself with earthly wisdom and even much of modern Christian thought, then I am essentially existing on fluff … the spiritual version of sugary sweets.  In seasons of trial and famine, I will suffer even more so because of the lack of life-giving strength they afford.  However, if I am regularly partaking in the nourishment the Word of God offers and walking with Him, I will have a storehouse of wisdom and strength from which to draw when seasons are hard.

I read the Word of God because the fluff of this world will never satisfy what only He can and I want my children and anyone who comes in contact with me to understand that truth and know Him.

 

“To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.  O my God, in You I trust …
Make me know Your ways, O Lord; Teach me Your paths. 
Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation;
For You I wait all the day.”
Psalm 25: 1,2a,4-5 (nasb)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Come and Dine

/ 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.

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*

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?

leek and potato soup

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some Golden Daybreak – for me, for you

/ 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.

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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?”

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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

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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) 

 

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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.

More

/ 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.”

bright burn burnt candle

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

 

Jesus is Still in the Boat

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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.

 

 

Set like Flint

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“For the Lord God helps Me, therefore, I am not disgraced; Therefore, I have set My face like flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed.”
Isaiah 50:7

abstract brick bricks brickwork

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I can’t tell you how many years I have begged God to change certain circumstances in my life.  I don’t want to tell you how long I lamented those circumstances when they did not change and simply grew more difficult as years went by.  When seasons of heartache last upwards of 20 years and some 35 years and beyond, one grows weary.

By last fall, I found myself teetering on the edge of despair.

Overwhelmed by the isolation of the storms, weakened by the longevity, and discouraged by the lack of growth, help, intervention, and relationship.

Disquieted because of what seemed as silence from the heavens above in the ongoing midst of these trials.

My nature tends to be more quiet and reserved.  Life experience on top of my personal nature has caused me to become more observant and introspective as time goes by.  I understand that some people don’t like this about me.  I rarely respond as others seem to expect me to and frankly, I no longer even try to.  My soul runs deep but I am mostly gentle and simple at heart.  I am loyal until betrayed and intensely protective of those I love.  Contention, strife, game-playing, blame-shifting … these are all enemies of my soul.

I have been, unfortunately, the ultimate people-pleaser.

And this has gotten me into considerable trouble.

For much of my life, my identity was based on what I heard and perceived from others.

I gathered all the words and perceptions and I built my identity on them.

Not only that, but I carried them throughout my life.

A whole bunch of crap, tied up in a burlap bag, and strapped to my shoulders.

It was a life built on a shaky foundation.

A foundation that I knew God was systematically dismantling, but I admit that I was not fully aware that He was also in the process of rebuilding…

A new foundation grounded in truth and on Christ alone.

A foundation tested and tried because of the very trials I despised.

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Over the last number of years, my studies have often been directed towards certain portions of the Bible over and over.  Passages that the Lord knew I needed to grasp in order to change and grow within my circumstances.  For a long time, the writings of James and Paul consumed my studies as I sought to understand the purpose of trials and sufferings.  Instead of fighting against God in these storms, I needed to learn to walk through them in His strength and leading.

Then 1 Corinthians 13 became a focused part of my pondering and studies.  Learning to love others as Christ loves us is often spoken of loftily and easily.  The reality is that it is a brutal process of dying to self and learning to seek the good of others before my own.  This just does not come easily to any of us, no matter how much we like to pretend it does.

More recently, Hebrews 11 has been the focus and I have to admit, I have not always appreciated this part of my studies.  Specifically because these tremendous people of faith died, never getting a happy end to their story.

“All these died in faith, without receiving the promises,
but having seen them and welcomed them from a distance,
and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.”
Hebrews 11:13

This bothered me, to be honest, because I wanted a guarantee that I would have a happy ending here on earth.

The beauty of what is commonly known as the ‘Faith’ chapter is that these warriors of the faith, lived and died (sometimes horribly), not seeing the purpose of their sufferings and trials, yet remaining solid and true until the very end.  Their reward was not known to them on this side of eternity.

This has become achingly beautiful to me over time.  Living a life of faith and complete dependence on God, without ever knowing relief nor the reason until eternity.  These are my heroes.  These are my examples.  These are the ones I turn to when I grow weary in this journey. These are the cloud of witnesses the writer of Hebrews tells us about:

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witness surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and has set down at the right hand of the throne of God.  For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”
Hebrews 12:1-3

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Last week, I experienced something that has led to all these rambling thoughts.  An out-of-the-blue, random, and somewhat public attack on my character.

I was startled and taken aback.

Imagine it like this … envision a woman walking along her life’s journey, neither perfect nor without sin, yet minding her own business and simply accomplishing the tasks before her, when suddenly … randomly … someone hiding behind some shrubbery, hurls a rock in her direction.  A rock written with words seemingly intent to inflict harm.

The rock itself doesn’t hurt badly because it was thrown at a distance but still, it stings a little.  She finds herself knocked a bit off balance by the surprise of the attack.  Stunned by the words written on it.

She knew who threw the rock but still she looked around to see who was watching.

Would anyone come to her defense?

Had they seen the words?

Would they believe them?

She slowly reached down and picked up the rock and as she stood back up holding it, she looked directly at the thrower.

Yes, I see your words and I see you.  I see more than you realize.

And then, unsure how to respond, she turned away and continued walking because her journey doesn’t stop simply because someone else chooses to throw stones.

But she was still carrying that rock.

So what do you do with it?

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I have watched a considerable amount of stone-throwing in my lifetime.

Now, just to be clear, I am not talking about confronting a believer with the truth in Scriptures as a means of restoring them to righteousness.  That is speaking truth, even though it may come across as hurtful, for someone’s good.  It is not stone-throwing.  What I am referring to is the intentional (or sometimes even unintentional) use of words that harm or destroy a person’s character, testimony, or their emotional state.

So again I ask, what do you do if you are on the receiving end?

Well, perhaps you are like me.  I used to gather everything that was said or that I thought had been said, and I carried them across my shoulders.  Not only that, but I would look at them all the time … and I believed them.  Those rocks were my identity.   I chose those words over Christ.

Thank you Jesus for the cross and that I no longer have to carry that burden.  I still do sometimes because it is so familiar to me … but I am free to not do so.

Perhaps you are much more likely to respond quickly in anger, grabbing that stone before it can even touch the ground and hurling back towards the other person.

Matter of fact, there is a good chance you are able to grab a few extra stones lying around to send flying along as well.

Because they deserve it, of course.  

Maybe your anger doesn’t ignite that quickly but tends to simmer over time.  Eventually, the stones inspire a deep root of bitterness that seeps out through passive-aggressive, snide comments.

How dare they?  Don’t they realize how much I have done for them?  They owe me.  I’m the victim here.

Of course, sometimes we are too intimidated or maybe just unsure how to respond so we bottle it up inside until we explode onto some unfortunate, innocent soul who is completely in the dark.

Children, spouse, random grocery store clerk … 

All of these are common, instinctive responses and yet, none of them are right.

None are healthy.

None are righteous.

None follow the example of the Savior, who although completely innocent and pure (unlike you and me), stood silent before his accusers.  Nor does it follow the examples of the cloud of witnesses given to us in the book of Hebrews.

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I knelt alone, still holding that stone and reading those words.

Feeling a bit dejected and unsure …

But mostly I felt alone.

But yet, I wasn’t.  My Savior stood beside me.  The very one who set his face as flint as He stood unashamed before His accusers.  The very one who was the only innocent person to ever walk this earth and the only one without sin.

My Savior and my example.

He stood in the silence with me until I handed Him the stone and asked Him to show me what to do.  I know I am capable of any of the typical responses but I wanted His help.

Once in His hands, the truth became clear.

The words spoken of me were not true.

Neither were they my identity.

I began to understand anew the purpose of the trials, the trust that can arise from the deepest places of despair, the strength that grows from endurance, and the value of a solid new foundation grounded in the truth of a Savior.

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”
Matthew 7:24-27

 

You know,there is an interesting thing that can happen when you give an ugly stone that was intended to harm you to Jesus.   In my hands, that stone would only continue to be ugly and harmful, whether towards myself or others.  But in His hands, those words become meaningless and the ugliness of the rock transforms into a bright and shining pebble, which He carefully places to create beauty along my pathway.

Each stone serves as a reminder of who I am in Christ.

 

 

assorted color flowers

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Where Beauty Dwells

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In the darkness of the night, while the rest of my family slept upstairs, I sat up with my son as he escalated into a full-blown autism rage.

Given that his verbal skills are very limited, he was not able to explain to me why he was awakened at two in the morning or why he was feeling so enraged.  In these situations, I am always left guessing and trying to stay two steps ahead so I can either avoid these storms altogether, or at the very least, keep him safe and help him deescalate as quickly as possible.

On this particular night, however, all the pieces fell into place for a truly terrible storm.

As the worst of the storm began to ease, what was left of my strength and self-control broke as if it were delicate china plate dropped onto a hard tile floor.

A million pieces, jagged and sharp, scattered everywhere.

Shattered.

My heart was broken.

It was a dark night of the soul.

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

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When I went outside to pull weeds in my flower beds the next morning, it was a matter of will … not heart.  Time to invest in outdoor work is limited and procrastination only creates a bigger job that still needs done later, so I am learning to do what I can, when I can.

The memory of the previous night was deeply entrenched in my thoughts and with each pull of those tenacious weeds from my flower beds, it felt as if I was pulling every dream and every hope I have ever had and simply tossing them away.   Some of the big dreams that yet remained, but mostly it was the more simple dreams that I hold onto most deeply … friendship, companionship, community, belonging, love.

The pervading question that has been following me though out my entire life broke through once more in a weakened cry towards heaven … Why am I here?

Please Lord, is this all you have for me?

A cry whispered, not in self-pity or with a complaining spirit, but simply with a heart that has been broken time and time again.

“My eyes are continually toward the Lord, for He will pluck my feet out of the net.
Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged; Bring me out of my distresses.
Look upon my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.”
Psalm 25:15-18

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As I cleared out the beds of weeds and freed the budding flowers from their grasp, I was reminded once more of the beauty springtime brings to my home.  My ancient lilac bush with its fragrant blossoms filled the air, while I cleared around my astilbe and forget-me-nots.  The bleeding heart that I transplanted last fall, now grew splendid and full.  Even the lush (and overgrown) green grass captured my attention as I pushed the wheelbarrow through the yard.  I found myself stopping just to stare at the sweet little dandelions and violets that speckled it, like freckles across a little girl’s sun-kissed nose.

Everywhere I looked there was the glorious color of spring.  Each step revealed a new fragrance and a new part of nature awakening from its long winter’s nap.

The Lord used this beauty of new life to reawaken a soul disillusioned and weary.

Beauty was the word I heard over and over.

And you know, that began to trouble me.

“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord, Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.”
Psalm 27:13-14

 

 

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In the days since that difficult night, there have been more challenges and entire days spent outside working, meditating, and seeking God’s wisdom.

‘Beauty’ … a word not typically applied to me continued to whisper through my thoughts.

When I began to tackle the long-neglected bank in the front of my home, I soon found myself immersed in a project much larger than I anticipated.  The weeds were deep but beneath them were elaborate root systems and winding through it all were many vines of poison ivy.  The bank was ugly.  It was overrun with weeds, dead grass, trash tossed from the cars driving by on the road … and that poison.  As I worked tenaciously and ripped at those weeds, I began to see small remnants of beauty from years past.  The fern-like greens of poppy flowers sprung out in relief as I tore the weeds that were overpowering them.  Dozens of earthworms wriggled and squirmed as I loosened the earth around them.  Beautiful, massive rocks placed for landscaping began to emerge and even though I was weary from battling the vines and weeds, I was becoming entranced by the beauty that lay hidden and neglected for so many years.

It was and continues to be a process to unearth and awaken that beauty, but I can almost see what it is to become.  What it was meant to be.  What it could be.  Even though I am covered now in poison ivy and rain is falling, my thoughts are often focused on the work that yet needs to be done … the work to reawaken the beauty of that bank.  A gentle beauty that I hope will be a welcoming sight to all who pass by.

It is a slow transformation process.

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I have spent a lifetime longing for and seeking after beauty.

Nothing I tried ever worked and truthfully, I know I don’t have much to work with.

But, even girls like me long to be seen as beautiful.  We want to be loved and cherished as much as anyone.  We long for the day that someone will see beauty in us because often, we cannot see it for ourselves.

When I married, I foolishly followed my naive heart.  I thought the only reason someone would marry me was because I was loved … I was finally seen as beautiful.  I tried to do whatever it took to earn a love that I thought was meant for me.

What took me years to understand was that people don’t always marry for love.

And sometimes, no matter what you do, you will never be able to earn love.

The reality took years to sink in and the impact it had on my soul was even more devastating than the pervasive poison ivy and weeds that overtook the bank in front of my home.

I know what it is to live a life completely imprisoned in sin and brokenness.

I know what it is like to be unwanted.

Disillusioned.

Alone.

I also know what it is to be a mother watching her child suffer with a hidden disability and unable to tell me what is hurting him so deeply.

I know what it is to go without sleep for years.

Without touch.

Without communication.

Without hope.

I know and have experienced more that you may realize.

And because of all this, I am confident in what I am about to say.

I know Jesus is the answer.

Jesus comes into our lives with more love than we can possibly imagine and He takes on the difficult task of ripping out the lies of deception that are entangled throughout us.  He takes the tools of truth and loosens up the hardened soil that entraps us so He can set us free and transform our lives into beauty for His glory.

Sisters, your world might be falling apart and you might be thinking there is no way out.

Maybe you think if you leave your marriage and find a different man, it will be better.

Maybe if you have one more drink, you won’t need to feel.

Maybe if you stay just busy enough, you can hide the ugliness inside with your own works of beauty.

Maybe … maybe.

I can tell you from experience that only Jesus can bring beauty from the ashes of our lives.  Only Jesus can set us free from the life-killing weeds of sin and loosen the packed earth around us.  Only He can undo the neglect.  Only Jesus.

There are no maybes with Him.

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 1:6

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When I started this post, I was going to call it Moments of Beauty and simply share what I could while staying detached from the word ‘beauty’.  Kindnesses of others … flowers … budding trees … all safe topics from a woman like me.

But as the days and weeks passed, the phrase that kept coming to mind was ‘Where Beauty Dwells’ 

I can’t share with you what I know of beauty unless you understand a little of where I come from and why beauty is not my normal.

My heart knows brokenness and ugliness.

But because of Jesus, my heart also knows and recognizes beauty.

Through the redeeming work of the cross,  He is in the process of sanctifying and transforming me to become more like Him … and that is where beauty dwells.

Maybe not the kind of beauty the world wants from me … but a hidden, internal beauty that seeks only to glorify Christ.

Wherever Jesus dwells and transforms, there is beauty.

What beauty are you seeking?

 

“… And provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.”
Isaiah 61:3

 

 

 

 

 

The Pathway of Shingles

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Shingles

Once upon a time I thought shingles were only the things that covered house roofs.

They say ignorance is bliss …

In this case, I am inclined to agree.

The Facts

Not only did I not understand much about Shingles, I am learning that most people are similarly ignorant and have plenty of false ideas.  So, let me enlighten you without the pain of going through it yourself.

See the kind of friend I can be?

Shingles is a viral infection that causes a painful rash (although the rash was the LEAST of my pain). It is caused by the varicella-zoster virus, which is also what causes chicken-pox.  After you’ve had chicken pox, the virus lies inactive in nerve tissue near your spinal cord and brain.  Years later, the virus may reactivate as shingles and when it does, it travels along nerve pathways to the skin – causing blisters.

Shingles generally affects a relatively small part of one side of your body.  Often it presents as a single stripe of blisters that wrap around one side of the torso – but this was not my experience.

Signs and symptoms of Shingles may include:
– Pain, burning, numbness, or tingling
– Sensitivity to touch
– A red rash that begins a few days after the pain
– Fluid-filled blisters that pop and then crust over
– Itching

Some people may also experience:
– Fever
– Headache
– Sensitivity to light
– Fatigue

The actual cause of Shingles is unknown, although there are many theories.  Stress is commonly considered a possible trigger but typically, Shingles seems most likely to show up as the body ages and the immune system becomes weakened due to various circumstances.  Typically it is seen more often in adult over age 60 but I just turned 46 and I know of others who had shingles at even younger ages.

How the virus affects people is very different.  Sometimes folks get a light touch and they only have a few itchy spots, which seem to resolve fairly quickly.  Others develop pain and numbness, as opposed to itchiness, which lasts for weeks.  Some get it quite severely and it can takes months to heal.   I have found those who have experienced Shingles for themselves (or walked through it with a loved one) and have known the pain it can bring are the most sympathetic and compassionate.

Here is a big question that I have addressed many times in the last couple of weeks …

“Is Shingles contagious?” or the other version … “Where did you get it from?”

So, here is the simple answer – No, Shingles itself is not contagious.  I did not ‘catch’ it from anyone.  It was my own dormant virus that reared its ugly head for whatever reason.  If you have had chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine, you have no reason to fear anyone who has Shingles.  You will not catch Shingles from them.

However, that being said … if you have NEVER had chicken pox and are NOT vaccinated, then you could potentially catch chicken pox from someone who has Shingles because it is the same virus.  Now, it wouldn’t be easy.  My Doctor assured me that someone would actually have to touch the blisters when they are in the contagious stage and then bring their hand to their face and breathe it in in order to catch chicken pox from a case of Shingles.

Can I just say … ?  If someone has Shingles blisters, they would appreciate if you stay far away from their blisters.  They really don’t want to be touched anywhere … let alone anywhere near their blisters.

If you do develop Shingles, be considerate and aware of those around you who may be vulnerable (especially pregnant Mommas and babies).  You obviously want to be careful and take certain precautions.  I will share later how I handled this.

For more information regarding the facts of Shingles, there is a plethora of material online.  Some of this information that I have shared here can be found at http://www.mayoclinic.org …. but I read from numerous other sources as well.

My Experience

It has been almost three weeks since I woke on a Monday morning with a random ache in my shoulder.  I thought I must have slept on it wrong so I ignored it and continued on my day, which happened to include a physical with my doctor.  We discussed many things, including the torn meniscus in my knee and the ongoing pain in my other shoulder so I didn’t bother mentioning the new pain in my right shoulder.  By that evening, I was in the most intense pain of my life … comparable only to labor and childbirth.  I tossed and turned all night as my shoulder throbbed relentlessly.  This dreadful pain, along with a low-grade fever and sickness, continued into Tuesday night and Wednesday.  I was as close as I have ever been to going to an Emergency Room … but I stoically hid the pain and waited until I could see my own Doctor Wednesday afternoon.

By that point, I was also experiencing pain in my ribs and down my arm with an odd numbness that traveled down into my hand, affecting my ring and pinky fingers.  I also began to notice some random red spots on my wrist, hand, and fingers.   Truthfully, I was getting a little frightened because I had no idea what was wrong.

When I talked with the nurse and shared the level of pain I was experiencing, along with the numbness, which only was affecting my right side, she began to get suspicious.  When I showed her the spots, she drew a breath and said, “Oh no.  This is looking like Shingles!”

My Doctor confirmed it to be so.

We spent some time discussing it and she settled a lot of my concerns.  She prescribed an anti-viral medication and heavy painkillers.  I expressed my concern about my plans for the next couple of days and the potential of being around babies and possible unvaccinated children, so we agreed that it would be best if I stayed home for a few days.  She cleared me to attend church on Sunday because of the medication I was on and the precautions she knew I would take.

Truthfully, I figured I would easily fight this virus and rebound quickly.

I was wrong.

The rash eventually covered my right hand, fingers, wrist, and all the way up past my elbow.  I also had a few spots under my arm.  My fingers swelled and I was unable to bend or move them for several days.  Even with the medication, the rash continued to spread until Saturday.  It was bright red and blistery raw.

The pain, which compared to labor and childbirth Monday and Tuesday, settled into a state of constant, intense toothache-type pain for the next several days after that.  It affected my jaw, my shoulder, my elbow, my wrist and hand, and even down into my ribs.  The pain medication made it somewhat tolerable but it was never bearable.  The hypersensitivity was unbelievable and even now, after almost three weeks, I can still barely handle anything touching the inside of my hand or the lateral portion of my arm and elbow.

The level of pain was surprising but even more so was the fatigue.  I have been experiencing a flu-like fatigue this entire time.  I have lived with severe fatigue for years due to the sleep issues my son with autism has experienced, but it has always been my nature to muscle through and keep going.  I couldn’t do that now.  My body routinely crashed through the day and I barely made it from one nap to another.  Even now, I can barely make it through a day without a nap and my activity level is well below my normal.

At this point, 2 1/2 weeks after the first spots, I think the rash is fading nicely.  My hand, wrist, and elbow continue to be the most noticeable when it comes to where the rash was and that skin will likely take the longest to heal.

I took the entire prescription of anti-viral medication, and have steadily been taking Ibuprofen and the prescription pain medication (this was only at night).  I began taking high doses of Vit. C in an effort to boost my immune system (this is when the rash stopped spreading) … and just yesterday I added Lisine and B-12 to my arsenal.  I also gingerly applied liquid Magnesium to my elbow and wrist and between the three of these gems, I began to experience my first bit of relief from the pain.

I have had very limited use of my dominant right hand and arm for this entire time but each day I try to use it a bit more, even though it still is difficult.  I can’t hold anything in my hand and it is still uncomfortable to use my fingers.  Holding a pen or pencil and trying to write is futile.  Beside the pain and continuing tingling numbness, my writing is horrendous.  Driving is uncomfortable, as is almost every other task you can imagine.  I have figured out how to use a hair dryer and gingerly (and painfully) apply eye make up … but the curling iron is still impossible.

For the first two weeks, I carefully avoided anyone I thought might be vulnerable and even then, I wore long sleeves to cover most of the rash.  If I left the house, I used first aid gauze to carefully wrap my hand.  Then I mostly kept my hand in my coat pocket.  These measures were largely for the benefit of others, but it was also a good way to protect my entire side from being jostled or touched.

At this point, I still tend to keep my right side protected as much as possible … even though the pain is starting to ease, my body is still very hypersensitive and uncomfortable.

So for now, I think I am starting to see a faint light at the end of this tunnel even though I still have limited use of my hand and considerable discomfort and fatigue as my body continues to battle this virus.

More than anything, this has filled me with so much compassion for those who battle with long-term significant health issues and pain.  These last few months, and these last weeks especially, have taken their toll on me.  I feel so deeply for those who deal with much greater health concerns.

The Lord has been so good.

I despise Shingles but I love the One who has been faithfully walking beside me through this journey, like He has all the rest.

Finding Rest in the Lonely Journey

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If the Lord sets you to guard a lonely post in perfect stillness from all active work, you ought to be just as content as to be in the midst of the active warfare.  It is no virtue to love the Master’s work better than the Master’s will.
Hannah Whitall Smith

 

It’s been awhile since I have written here because my life has been a whirlwind for the last several months.  A whirlwind of challenge after challenge and while I do have blog posts started and others floating around in my mind, this really isn’t one of them.

One thing I have learned about myself is that I have thinking seasons when I am battling through the challenges of life and learning about God and His ways and then I enter processing seasons when I can articulate those musings in writing.

This season of challenge started last fall when my son with autism entered one of his more difficult times of intense anxiety and anger.  Coping with that personally, while desperately trying to help him, homeschooling my other children, teaching a homeschool co-op class, and trying to keep everything as stable as possible for my family as a whole, took a serious toll on me.  Those I turned to for help didn’t seem to understand the depth of the struggle so I worked through it alone, realizing the greatest loneliness of my life.

In November, I injured my knee and that, compounded with a shoulder injury that happened in August when my 200+ lb son had a massive meltdown on one of our walks, and a strong negative reaction to medication I was taking, knocked me down even more.  Physically, I have always been very strong and able to withstand and rebound from almost anything, but this time, I found myself in constant pain and not recovering well at all.

December eventually brought relief for my son as his doctor added a new anxiety medicine and he began to smile once more.  What a blessed reprieve that was for everyone and I found my own spirits lifting somewhat as a result of not dealing with his intense anger issues day after day.

January and February were filled with school closings and delays for my oldest son and this created a fair amount of disruption and schedule changes for him, my other children’s homeschooling and co-op, and for me as I had to cancel quite a bit on my calendar and work in my cleaning jobs days when I could.

When I accepted that the knee pain was not going away and was limiting what I could do, I visited my doctor and learned that a ligament was stretched and inflammed and the meniscus were likely torn.  This led to wearing a knee brace and taking inflammatory medication for two weeks, which helped the inflammed ligament but not the torn meniscus.  I found this out the hard way when I was walking across the parking lot of our local grocery store and my leg completely gave out and cramped up so badly, I couldn’t move or put any weight on it.  I had to call my husband to come pick me up, drive me back across the parking lot to my van so I could drive it back home (using my right, uninjured knee of course).  I was completely incapacitated for a couple of days and could only move around using crutches and eventually a cane.  I eventually saw an orthopedic doctor who gave me a cortisone shot, which provided significant relief allowing me to cautiously return to most of my activities, including regular exercise.

When I went in for my physical earlier this week, my doctor and I discussed the likelihood of future surgery for my knee and she determined that my left shoulder has a strained and inflammed rotator cuff.  I didn’t bother to mention the discomfort I woke up with in my right shoulder because I figured I had only slept on it wrong and it would soon work itself out.

Boy, was I wrong!

By that evening, I was in agony.  A throbbing pain in my right shoulder that kept me awake all night as I struggled in vain to find a position that would allow me enough comfort to rest.  In the morning, I didn’t say anything to anyone but silently dealt with the pain as I got my son with autism off to school, my other children started on their day, and prepared to finally be able to attend a ladies Bible study at our church.  I felt very rough but figured the pain in my shoulder would eventually have to ease.  I was only at Bible study a short time before I received a text that I was needed at home so I swallowed my disappointment and left.  I am so glad I did.  The pain in my shoulder began to spread down my arm and throughout my right side, as my fingers tingled and grew numb.  By that evening, I noticed a couple of odd spots on my wrist and hand and experienced some of the most intense pain of my life, while my body responded with a low-grade fever.

To my dismay, the next day I was diagnosed with shingles.  A illness I had previously believed only affected folks much older than I.  My family was very surprised when I shared this news and admitted to how much pain I was in but now they have watched the rash/blisters spread and seen my lips whiten with pain when I attempt to do certain tasks.  They are stepping up to help as much as possible.

So, here I am this morning … the shingles have not responded to the medication as I had hoped and I am still in significant discomfort.  My right hand (and arm up to my elbow) is covered in a painful rash and only my index finger tip has been spared, allowing me to slowly peck away at these words.  My shoulder and ribs still ache from the pain but thankfully, it is nothing like it was earlier this week. I am exhausted from the toll this illness has taken on me, as well as, from my own sleep disturbances and those of my son.

However, what I have learned from each ugly battle of this long season of trial more than makes up for any hardship.  The Lord has been so gracious every step of the way and I have learned more from Him than ever before.  It has been a journey of settling into my own identity, following His voice, letting go of the past, walking in Truth, and practicing contentment in every circumstance.  As a result, I feel more loved and cared for by Him than ever before, which allows me to love and care for others more freely than ever before.  My relationship with my children, most especially, has blossomed even more abundantly.

I have learned the beautiful gift of prayer and surrender.  I have learned that it is a privilege to lift the names and burdens of others to this Shepherd who walks with me and, as a result of my own trials, I have learned a greater compassion for those who suffer far more than I.

I have also learned that I have nothing to prove and it is okay to walk alone.

It has been a lonely journey but, through it all, I have learned to rest.

To rest physically with awareness of my own needs…

To rest inwardly with the practice of contentment in all things…

And ultimately, to rest fully in the safety of my Savior’s love.

 

“Contentment, then, is the product of a heart resting in God.  It is the soul’s enjoyment of that peace that passes all understanding.  It is the outcome of my will being brought into subjection to the Divine will.  It is the blessed assurance that God does all things well, and is, even now, making all things work together for my ultimate good.”
A.W. Pink

The Faithfulness of God

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The Faithfulness of God.

Such a deep well from which to draw, knowing full well I will barely touch the surface.

Yet, a drink from this well is not meant to quench our thirst but rather it should draw us to toss the bucket aside and jump fully into the limitless supply.

His faithfulness has no bounds.  His goodness has no limits.  His grace overflows.

Even in the hard seasons.

I will say, most especially in the hard seasons.

Those times when it seems that God is nowhere to be found.  When it seems that our prayers are not being heard and our tears have evaporated before they even touched the ground.  When we simply cannot see God anywhere and we feel isolated and broken.

In those times, when circumstances insinuate that God does not care and we do not know which way to turn, I believe we have a few choices.

We can give into despair and believe that God has forsaken us.

We can create our own path and justify what we want in order to convince ourselves and others that God only wants us to be happy and therefore we are free to do whatever it is we want to make our lives ‘easier.’

Or … we can diligently spend time with God our Father by consistently reading and meditating on His Word with the clear intention of getting to know Him instead of picking and choosing Scripture to fit what we want.  We can apply our time in prayer as we learn to discern the voice of our Shepherd.  Then we can make the daily choice to pick up our cross and follow Him and in this process, we begin to die to self, learn to be content in all things, and ultimately, choose to obey and follow His will … and not our own.

The first choice leads to defeat and a sad, empty life.

The second choice certainly may lead to temporary happiness as we elevate ourselves and indulge in all the riches of this world while still using all the right Christian words to sound holy.  The problem with this is that it is truly temporary and terribly short-sighted.  What makes me happy now, will lead to trouble later.

I can eat an entire 5 lb box of chocolate now because it makes me happy.

But there will be a cost to pay later.

The third choice may mean limited earthly happiness.  Choosing to follow the example of Christ and dying to self is hard and rarely does it mean getting what I think I need to be happy.  It means taking my eyes off of myself and my needs and it means opening myself to hardship and trial for the cause of Christ.  This is where His faithfulness becomes real and the depths of His love supplies every need.  This path of obedience requires a heart and eye for eternity, understanding the promise of God may not be given to us until we cross the threshold of eternity and kneel before our Creator.

Only one of these choices lead towards an eternal reward.

The Trials of Yesterdays

When I  used to think back to the days when my children were young, I always felt a sense of guilt and failure.  Those were hard years raising three little ones while walking through the many difficulties and challenges of autism, depression, isolation, marital discord, family trouble, and more.  My perception of the past altered my memories and distorted my current sense of identity.

I believed myself to be a terrible mother.  A failure.

A couple of weeks ago, I was searching for some important paperwork that I could not find anywhere and in fact, had not seen in years.  After searching through every place I could imagine,  I finally thought about those boxes in the attic.  Those boxes that have been dodged through every purging and organizing frenzy.  Those boxes that rarely get a passing glance from me as I carry various other items in and out of the attic space.  Those boxes, filled with pictures and various memories, that signified to me, my complete failure as a mother and person.

However, desperation to find the missing paperwork and a sense that God was calling me to face those boxes, led me to finally start carrying them down from the attic and begin the slow process of sorting, organizing, and looking at these memories of the past.

Initially, I was overwhelmed with sadness.  My perception of the past has been so colored with certain memories I have held tightly onto that I simply could not see the reality.  But the Lord, with the utmost gentleness and care, began a healing process in the deepest places of this mother’s heart.  In almost all of the pictures of my children, I found smiles.  There are pictures of my oldest looking sober and somewhat vacant as the autism stole more and more of him away but for the most part, the pictures showed children happy and content.  My younger children would look over my shoulder as I worked through the pictures and would share happy memories with me.  As I continued I found picture after picture drawn by my children that read ‘I love you Mommy!’  Pictures that I had saved but didn’t remember saving.  I began to realize that my children do not remember how hard those years were.  Their memories were never distorted or broken as mine have been.  As a result, they have never viewed me as I have viewed me.  My children have never thought of me as a failure.  I am the only one who believed that.

As I worked through the memories of the past, the Lord began to change my perception of those years.  Oh, most definitely, if I could only go back, there is much I would do differently.  I would hold them more.  I would teach them better.  I would do almost everything differently for my son with autism.  But, the Lord began to help me see that even during those trying times, He was working.  Even when I thought He had abandoned me and my children, He was behind the scenes and faithfully filling in the gaps that were being missed.

In the last box of pictures, I found a photo that someone took of me and my children.  I have no memory of who took the picture or why it was taken but when I uncovered it, tears filled my eyes as my soul swelled with thankfulness.  The photo was taken in the nursery of the church we were attending at the time.  I am kneeling on the floor holding a felt board I had bought in an effort to teach my non-verbal, highly visual autistic son Bible stories.  All three of my very young children are across from me in various stages of busyness … and I remembered.

I remembered that there was no place for my incredibly busy autistic son in the other Sunday School classes and no nursery for my younger ones.  So every Sunday, I would prepare a lesson and try to teach them myself.  After Sunday School, we would go upstairs for the service where I sat every single Sunday back in the cry-room with my children because my oldest couldn’t handle sitting out in the service.

Most would not be aware of this, but that picture was taken as I was in the process of emotionally and mentally crashing beneath an unbearable load.  This is a season of life that I’ve always looked back on with sorrow.  I would have told you that I ruined my children.

Yet now, when I look at that picture and others with my children, I see the amazing faithfulness of a loving God who preserved both me and my children through some soul-crushing circumstances.

Where the enemy sought to destroy, God protected.

When I had given up, God refused to let us go.

When I ran from Him, God followed and brought me back.

When others deserted me and even spoke against me, God never left my side.

When I couldn’t see the next step ahead of me, God gave me the courage and just enough strength to take the next single step. And then the next.  And the next.

When I was weak, God taught me faithfulness and credited it to me as righteousness.

You see, the faithfulness of God is not dependent on us getting everything just right.  He does not call us to do life perfectly but He does call each of us to die to ourselves, pick up our crosses, and be obedient to the calling He has given us.

When I look back now, I see the hand of God working through all those fiery trials and challenges.

I can trace His rainbow through my tears.

I can see that He was in control.

And my heart is thankful.

His Faithfulness Today

This morning, as I finish writing these thoughts and try to bring this to a thoughtful conclusion, I am weary.  My almost 18 year old son with autism woke in the night with a sense of agitation.  I have been walking this journey a long time and often, the days (and nights) are still filled with difficulty.  But even when the way is rocky, I continue to learn  a complete dependence on the steady, never-changing faithfulness of God.

Hebrews 11 provides us with so many examples of those who have gone on before and how they lived a life of steady faith and reliance on God with the understanding that they might not see His promises fulfilled until eternity.  They trusted in the faithfulness of God and their own testimonies of faith that developed through their trials should be a resounding battle cry to us to never give up and to never take the easy way.

I have seen the fruit of God’s working in my children in these most recent years.  While my younger two children asked Jesus into their hearts when they were younger, just last year I watched God do a work in my oldest and I was able to finally lead him to Jesus.  A long-awaited answer to a prayer that was silently and tearfully given for years.  I am watching this same young man continue to struggle through the strong challenges of his autism yet, I am also watching him learn and grow in new ways.  My younger children have developed a heart of compassion and a hunger for truth.  They enjoy being involved with our church and are appreciative of Biblical teaching.  Just in these last couple of weeks, both have individually told me that they are so glad I am their Mom.  They live a life of simple appreciation for all things.  They regularly practice contentment. They teach me daily even as I endeavor to teach them.

I am humbled to be their mother.

As I write these words and ponder these thoughts, I can only lift my eyes to the One who has consistently loved, protected, and led us through all of these years … and offer a song of thanksgiving to our Faithful God.

He is so faithful.

This my song through endless ages, Jesus led me all the way.

He lowers us to raise us
So we can sing His praises
Whatever is His way all is well

He makes us rich and poor
That we might trust Him more
Whatever is His way all is well

All my changes come from Him He who never changes
I’m held firm in the grasp of the Rock of all the ages

All is well with my soul
He is God in control
I know not all His plans
But I know I’m in His hands

*Photo credit to my son, Andrew Shenk
**I have alluded to a number of songs in this post including:
All the way my Savior leads me by Fanny Crosby
All is Well by Robin Mark
Oh Love that will not let me go by George Matheson