Stumbling Words to Express

I grasp for words to describe the feelings.

I wander in my mind and wonder at how to express.

Knowing that with every word comes misunderstanding,  and yet...

I want to speak and show forth.

 

So intensely sad and disappointed and yet so calmed.

Perplexed and confused and yet keenly aware of being known and seen. 

Anger and frustration at my fingertips, yet an offering of belly-laughter alongside.

Will I wake up from this nightmare?  Or tonight know the peace of dreamless sleep?

 

My soul still hasn't caught up with my body.

Are we really still here, suffering with this reality?

Knowing that every day holds the potential for better or bad.

This world falling apart at the seams, tearing apart into fragments.

 

I grasp for words to communicate the Presence.

The depths of peace and hope and the undergirding Truth.

The Word that whispers sweet breath that I can almost smell and taste. 

I want to speak of the doubt and the drought and the faith and the filling. 

 

I need to speak forth, to be on display.

Me, us... him,   we... we are jars of cracking clay.

Glory poured in and itching to pour out. 

This glorious procession... me a member of the great band of witness... 

 

we are....

Weary and wonderful.

Beautiful and broken.

Downcast and lifted up.

Confused and cared for.... 

I grasp for words to express.

Sad is Okay, Too

I see it in your eyes.  I see the emotion.

All of me wants you to know, "It's really okay to be sad." I see it and I want you to express it.  Please don't hide it from me.

You really don't have to tell me "it's good".  I know.  You know.  We both know.  Of course, it will all be fine, it is good and God is good.  I know that you know this.  We both know this!

Instead, please, friend, just feel the sadness and the pain.  Can you let yourself acknowledge the suffering and the difficulty that is real---the difficulty of the now?

Tears come.  They well up and want to spill out.  I see them.  You feel them. I know you do.  I see your 'fight' turn on.  As tears begin to spill out of your eyes, I watch your embarrassment.  Is it shame? You wipe your eyes, you press your fingers over your nose, you push, you wipe, you press, you apologize... everything in you is trying to hold back the tsunami of tears.  The sadness is real.

Please, can you just let yourself have a moment?  Can you let yourself have an hour, a day... a month... and acknowledge that this hurts?

Why do we judge ourselves and our feelings?  We all do it.

God-given gifts---feelings.  Our feelings are not for judging--- they just are.  Feelings--- all of them---just are.  They are data points.  Why must we put them into a box.  Negative feelings vs. positive feelings.  Bad vs. good.  Why don't we just let them be a fact, for a moment?  I have blond hair and green eyes.  I am 5 foot 6 inches.  Facts.

I am sad.  I am angry.  I hurt right now.  I am scared.  Facts, just the same.

You speak too soon, I think, of the "good" or of the "truth"--- making every effort to make yourself "okay", or trying to make sure I am "okay" watching your pain.  I am okay.  And, sadness is okay, too?  Oh, how we all want to escape the pain, run away from the hard... or, at least, make you think something else of me.

I see it friend.  Please let the sadness have it's say.  I promise we will lean into the good a bit later.  We will rehearse truth further on...  I promise.

Happy and sad can live in the same place, at the same time.  But, I see the pain now.  I see it in your eyes. I welcome it.

Would you trust me with the tears?

We call it good

photo source

Today is Good Friday.

We celebrate and remember today that Jesus was brutally tortured and killed. And, we call this single event in history "good"?

We call it good, because it is good. It is very good.

I have been thinking much lately, in light of my own personal physical pain, what it might look to truly, deeply, be thankful for my suffering. What might it look like to rejoice in my trial or to see my pain as a gift of joy? (James 1:2: Consider it pure joy when you face trials of all kinds.)

In the midst of pain, this is a very hard thing to do.

Even two steps away from suffering, the clouds can lift and I can see "reasons" and grace in hindsight. I can see what He has done in it and through it... when I am looking at it from some distance. But, right smack dab in the middle of pain... rejoicing, being thankful and calling pain "good" is hard.

This past year, I have felt the Lord calling me to this, though. He seems to be leading me onward in this journey of pain and inviting me to "more".  At least, that is what I sense by His invitation. There is more to be had when you can call it good and see Me as good in it. Is this what He has been whispering?

He isn't asking me to say this with words; He is asking me to know this with heart.

Although a rough path, I do find myself understanding it a bit more. I seem to be able to, even in the midst, to say that He is good. My trust in His love over me is expanding. This is a gift, in-and-of-itself. Truly. It isn't something that I could teach anyone, ...I can barely find words to explain it..., but it is something I have had to live through. I have had to walk in, to feel, to wrestle with .

In truth, my physical pain has been quite minimal in compared with other pains that I have wrestled with through the years. Recently, I experienced an impromptu gathering of women. This table full of women had all come from divorced and broken families. As we shared, we found such comfort in hearing each other's stories. In each woman, regardless of age, tears were readily available... brimming eyes and some spilling tenderly on cheeks.

Such deep pain. Such soul upheaval. Such foundation breaking we all experienced at young, tender ages... even though our stories are all different! This pain. How do you call this pain "good"?

Was what they did that day to my Jesus, my Brother, good? NO! But... but, ...strangely, yes. Yes, it was good.

I am so glad they did! Isn't that just a crazy statement?! I am so glad they killed Him and that He gave His life for me! What an upside down thought?! But, what else do I have but that beautiful death on the cross. What else do I rely on, each day, but the blood of my precious Savior poured out on me!? I couldn't have the resurrection if I didn't have the death!

Don't we, in the cross, have a model for thanking God in suffering? Don't we have in Christ, each time we take communion, a picture of what it means to rejoice and say "thank you" for death, pain and suffering?

How does this work with the intense evil in our world? How does this work with the pain inflicted by Satan and those who are filled and living in his sick and twisted darkness? How does this work with sin, base choices, ...and depravity? How does this work with Jesus not being a victim... but being the One who chose this. He, Himself, layed His life down.

I don't know. I really don't know. These answers have been debated for centuries. Certainly, there is no easy answer!

But, wasn't Pilate ...and Caiaphas ... and Judas ...and the Roman soldiers mocking Him... were they not acting as Satan's very hands of evil? Were they not heinous in their actions? Sinful in their choices?

I don't know much about this topic, but this I do know: I boast in the cross of Christ. I boast in my Savior crucified! I boast.

What I do know is that today is Good Friday. I will remember what Christ did for me today! And, I will give thanks for the suffering! ...His suffering. ...and mine.

I call it good. Because, it is good.


a re-post from April 2011

Tears of a Friend

photo source

We don't like to see a friend in pain and we don't like to see them cry, right?  But, when we do have the privilege of seeing another's tears; when we invite intimacy, we do get the gift of tears from each other.  When a friend offers her tears to us as a gift...  or, when we enter in with them, feeling with them... when we allow our hearts to be touched by their pain...

When we can cry with a friend, then there is a deep connection, isn't there?

Pondering the sufferings of Christ brought tears to my eyes this morning as we passed the bread and the cup.   I entered in. In that quiet moment celebrating communion, my heart remembered what He did for me that beautiful, painful day on Calvary's hill!  And, it hurt to remember.  It pained me.   I remember, my precious Jesus.  I remember.  

With the tears there was indeed deep connection.  Somewhere within, I think, I touched the sufferings of Christ---even if only slightly.

So far, this is the Lenten season for me.  This is where I think He might be leading me.  The phrase, "touch and remember the sufferings of Christ", has been bouncing around in my head and in my heart.

To touch.  To sense.  To remember and re-acquaint myself with the pain and sorrow of this Man I love.  My Jesus.

Today, He led me further into this thought.  As I sat in stillness and solitude, my thoughts raced.  My mind whirled with faces.  My heart was filled with this week's memories:  thoughts of painful news, the suffering of a child, the loss of a loved one, the sickness of a friend, and the wandering away from faith...  This suffering.  These tears.  Today's suffering.

Today's suffering which He feels today.  My sufferings which He feels.  ...My friend, Jesus.

I was moved with the sufferings of Christ today.

What might He feel as He walks beside His children who are in pain?  What must He feel as He whispers His love into hearts and minds who shun and ignore Him?  What must He feel as He watches His sisters cry and His brothers turn away from His Presence, running to sin?  He suffers today.

My pain.  And, your pain.  And, her pain.  He feels them all as He intercedes.  As He advocates and as He speaks Truth louder than the Liar, the accuser of the brethren. (Revelation 12:10).  He is our friend and our intercessor (I John 2:1, Hebrews 7:25).  He is always with us.

Until He comes again, we can remember His death and proclaim it as real for us today.  This pain is our "now" truth as we wait for the "not yet" of our resurrection and eternal life without tears.  Tears and suffering are for today.  His death and His grief, even now, are our touchstone in this broken and painful world.

When I invite it, I can be privileged to see, to hear, and to connect with His tears and His sufferings today.  My friend, Jesus.

I remember, Jesus.  Today.  May I know Your sufferings--- to share in them with you, my Jesus (I Peter 4:13)  May I hear Your heart and see Your tears as I walk through my day.  What breaks Your heart?   Break my heart with what breaks your heart.

Pain stinks

photo source

We all walk the road of pain in this broken, broken world.  And, when I have to endure suffering and pain, it sucks.  Doesn't it?  Plain and simple.  It stinks.

But, to watch someone you love suffer and to feel so helpless to stop their pain... well, that just rips and tears in a way that is different and deep.  The watching is not more painful, per se.  It is just different and intense and confusing.

I am watching someone in pain and I am witness to suffering that I can't stop.  And, it hurts deep.  It pains my heart in ways that are hard to put words to...

In tears, I sat with the Lord this morning.  What do I even say to You, Lord?  I had no words.  Just tears.

I hate this suffering.  I hate to watch and hear about the pain.  I hate the confusion.  Father...  

There are times when words don't work and all we have is His name.  Father...   My eyes cried tears as my heart whispered this single word today.  Father.  A single word was enough--- it was full expression of my prayer to Him.

We have been talking about the beauty of Lent and this season of "longing" and "hunger":  A time to feel, to touch and remember the sufferings of Christ.  ...waiting for Good Friday.  ...waiting for Easter.  ...waiting and anticipating the resurrection and eternal life.

Oh man! With the news of this suffering, I can feel the deep longing and the groaning for Heaven!  Lent lessons right smack dab in front of me.

Longing.  And heaviness.  And, sadness.  Oh Father...  

After the tears subsided, there came a few more words to aid my prayer...  Isn't there another way?  

These words came out of my heart unbidden.  As they formed in my mind I recognized them---Don't they sound familiar?  Isn't this what Jesus was saying to the Father in the garden? Can this cup pass from me, please, Father? (Matthew 26:39)  Isn't there another way, Father?  

I know this road--or, at least, I know a small portion of this road.

And, I know beyond any shadow of doubt that suffering and pain have done significant work in me:  heart, soul and character work in my life.  Deep work.  I know... that I know... that know... that I know...  that suffering has indeed produced endurance.  It is producing faith, character and hope in my life.  In fact, I really can't imagine myself without my past and current pain journey.  It is one way, one avenue, God has used greatly to show me His love and His touch and the knowledge of Him.

I want this deep, heart work in my loved one.  But, still as I watch this dear one hurting...  and, I asked my loving Father, Is there any other way?   

There was no straight answer to my question.  There are no easy answers to pain and suffering, are there?
But there was a faint lifting of heart and a glimmer of hope welling up from within me.  I have been learning and am re-learning today that this faith and hope will not disappoint.  God's love will be poured into my and her life.  (Romans 5:3-5)

But, the truth still remains.  To endure suffering or watch suffering simply stinks.  Royally.  Doesn't it?

Pain Rips

photo source

A rip and a tear.  That is what hearing about suffering does to my heart.

There is somewhere deep within my soul that screams, "No!!" in response to tragedy and suffering.   Almost a visceral response, a sickening feeling, and an ache deep within.  Do you feel it?  I was not made for this!  We were not made for this, Lord!  

When I hear news of a random shooting, or I hear of torture, or cancer, or adultery, or trafficking...  I want to weep and scream and escape all at the same time.  Something deep within my soul just moans, "No! Just stop the madness!"   

We were not made for this... the ripping and tearing and pain that happens in our hearts, our minds, and our bodies with pain and suffering.  We were made for something else.  We were made for life--- eternal life.  We were made for an unending love-connection with God and our brothers.  We were made for peace and freedom.    Not this.  

Not death, destruction, lies and corruption.  It isn't right.  It just isn't right.  And we know it.  Our souls, my soul knows it keenly.  

When Paul prays in Ephesians for the new believers there, he asks God to enlighten the eyes of their hearts.  How does a heart see?   What is it my heart is seeing right now?  Paul asks God to open the eyes of their hearts so that they can be aware and know hope.   Open the eyes of my heart, Lord!  

We just must see beyond.  We need to know hope.  

Hope. Is that the answer to this screaming tantrum my soul is having in light of current news reports of evil?   

Paul asks God to show their hearts the hope of their inheritance.  The children of God are heirs.    

Inheritance has both a "now and not yet" idea with it, doesn't it?  Even with a superficial financial inheritance we know this to be true.  The "now" concept of a secure inheritance brings the heir a freedom of living and light-hearted trust in tomorrow.   Simply by knowing they are an "heir" is a positive label and banner to be held high.  All things will be okay for this person---they don't have worry about tomorrow.  Just in this simple example of monetary inheritance, small "bumps" in ones finances don't bother too much---because, in the end all will be just fine.  It will all work out.  

I am an heir.  But, Scripture reminds me that being an heir with Christ, my brother, means that I have to share in His suffering (how do you think these shootings and sickness feel to him?).  But, being an heir with Christ also means that I will one day share in His glory.  I have a hope to share in glory---this is truly beyond me!  You, too, have this hope if you are Christ's sister or brother!  You are an heir.  

We have this hope for our future... I have hope for my spiritual, emotional and physical future.  I do know that all will be okay.  I can walk in peace with the banner of Truth over my heart and life.  And, I know that in the end all debts will be paid for and all "bumps" will be made right.  It does help to remember this. It does help to walk in the Truth of who He is, who I am in Him, and what His bigger plan is for the future...

All will be made right.  This is hope.  

Though, if I am honest, ...today...  Today, all is absolutely not right.  And, it pains me deeply.  Today I need a little more light, Father God, to open the eyes of this here heart.    Because today I just feel sad and angry.  I feel the rip and tearing of pain.  We need You to light our eyes and fill our hearts with hope of our inheritance of joy, peace, and Your glory!      

The crooked will be made straight.  (Isaiah 40:4)
Sorrow and sighing will flee away  (Isaiah 35:9,10)

"Make your Now the richer and deeper this Christmas by drinking at the fountain of Forever, it is so near." ~John Piper

A Painful Conversation

Photo Source

But you see, Lord...  I was supposed to be perfect yesterday.      

Silly thought?  Maybe.  But certainly my thought---my honest and deep thought ---that rose to the surface as I wrestled with a new health issue in my life that reared it's ugly head last night.

Anger, mixed with sadness.  Frustration, mixed-up with worry and fear.  ...my heart cried out to the Lord!

I am supposed to be well.  All better.  
I am supposed to be done with pain and suffering!  
I want health!  I want well-being.  I want to be strong.

...for you...  for your glory ...  Even as I thought it, there was a 'check' in my spirit.

As I prayed this prayer through tears, a gentle response wafted across my mind.  For Me?...  Really, Stephanie?  You want perfection for Me?

And then came a wordless impression that accompanied the tender question:  Do you want my best for you?  My best----  

His best.   After a 25 year journey through pain that was (mostly) healed with an operation June 2011, I have learned that sometime His best... His deep, loving, expansive best... comes through and in pain.  Pain is not a bad thing in-and-of-itself, I have learned.   Pain can be a gift.  God's best for me here on earth can include pain and suffering.  Like a wise gardener knows, pain can be pruning... and a tender cutting back---that looks to the outside as ruthless hacking!

Do you trust my boundless love for you?  Do you want my best for you, in you?  For My glory?  My glory in you, through you, for you?   

And, I cried some more.  And He met me with peace.

I want to be perfect, Lord.  I hate being weak and vulnerable.   I feel so afraid when I am weak and sick.  I hate being the "sick one".   I want to be the "well-one" for once!  

I know, Stephanie...  

Oh Father!  But, this might not be for today...  Right? Father, maybe this desire for perfection is not for the now.  Or, at least, not for today.  

My strength is made perfect in your weakness, my sweet girl.  

Your strength...  Your perfection, Lord.  Oh!  I have so much yet to learn about You.  ...

There are many, many things I know in my head.  Things I can write here or preach next week at Bible study.  True things.  Right things.  Some of these things I know well in my heart, too.  He has brought them home to me and they sit in my gut---informing my days with peace and wisdom.

But there are other things... other Truths... , many other True things that are harder to swallow depending on the day.  Depending on the hour.

I still have trouble seeing You, knowing Your Presence, in the midst of pain, Father.  

Yes, ...yes, you do, Stephanie...

So, I ... have further to go in this lesson...  higher up, deeper in.  I do want Your best.  I do trust Your loving hand.  

...And, surrender did come this morning.  Real, deep, honest surrender to His Love and His best did happen in my heart.  This surrender, too, was a moment of His grace...  

Because, My grace is sufficient for You, Stephanie (2 Corinthians 12:9,10)

Today's Trust

I had significant physical pain again today.

This wrestle with pain has been a life long journey for me; a path, so it seems, that my Father intends me to continue to trudge.

The actual pain isn't horrible in-and-of-it-self.  Certainly the pain isn't as bad as it has been in the past.  But when it comes, it can bring with it a heavy, dusky emotional load.  It can shadow my heart with worry and fear.

photo source

The "what ifs" shadow can invade and surround me---blocking out bright light.  What if it gets really bad again?  What if it is something new, something worse?

This morning, the "what ifs" crashed around my heart and pushed into the corners of my mind, taking a light-filled mood and bearing down with darkness.  I felt cranky and irratible.  ...Frustrated and anxious.  One harsh snap of my mouth toward my son as we left the house made me aware--- a quick slap awake, ...somethings is not right in my heart.

On the ride to the church, I simply put my head back, closed my eyes and brought my heart to the Lord.

I am worried, Lord.  What if it gets worse? 


I want this pain to end, Father, and it isn't over...  


I am tired of this, Lord! I am afraid.  

As these thoughts tumbled out of my heart in prayer, the song from the radio spoke something very different to my soul.

 photo source

"His love is amazing.  Steady and unchanging.  His love is a mountain firm beneath my feet.  His love is surprising.  I can feel it rising.  His love is surrounding.  His love carries me."

His love surrounds and carries. 

His love...my heart began to sing along with the music.  Slowly and steadily, the raging worries ceased to pound my mind.  The "what-ifs" silenced and my heart was lifted.  Light entered my mind and I sat and listened.  And quietly, I began to sing along,  "His love is amazing!"  

Your love O Lord, reaches to the heavens.  Your faithfulness reaches to the skies. 

My gentle Father calmed my soul and quieted my mood.  Like a big, gentle hug, He wrapped His calming love around me.  Oh! How He loves me...

There was a moment of peace and then He spoke His Truth into this peace.  A loving hug was followed by a firm face-to-face truth-moment for my mind.   As if to grab my face with tender, strong hands and looking into my eyes, His Spirit spoke deep into my soul...

My well loved daughter--- Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things.  Set your heart on things above where Christ is seated at my right hand.

Trust me for today.  And, do not worry about tomorrow, Stephanie....


Oh!  How He loves me...

Remain and Keep

photo source:  Garden of Gethsemane

He has just walked with his disciples into the garden.  Evening light and a soft, cool breeze may have accompanied this quiet journey.

His words to his disciples, his friends, express a sadness that is deep beyond language, "My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death." (Mark 14:34).   Deathly sadness.

I have experienced grief---deep, dark, physically painful grief--- but, I have never been grieved to the point of death.  This is grief of epic proportions.  Jesus was walking forward that night into pain unimaginable.

And, He told his friends of His heart. But, they didn't get it.  They just couldn't.  And, neither can I.   I want to get it, Jesus, my friend.  I want to understand Your heart more... 

They keep with Him, following and trying to understand their teacher, their friend.  But, He must separate Himself and wrestle with His heart.  He goes a stone's throw away...

...with one request of His friends.  "Remain here and keep watch with me."  (Matthew 26:38)

Remain here.  


Keep watch.  


With Me... 

He is asking them to stay, to stand firm, to remain where He tells them.  Obedience.  Awareness.  Remain in Today, Stephanie... Rest in me.  Remain right where I have put you.  Don't rush.  Just rest and remain still.  

He is asking them to keep awake, to keep aware, to be watchful and ready.  Alert.  Aware.  Keep awake, Stephanie, while this world slumbers.  

He is asking... or is He inviting?... them to do it all with Him.  Close to Him.  Within earshot and able to feel, sense and see His pain.  Do this all with Me.  I am always Present, always with you, always available.  

The themes of this month, pour over me with these words... Remain here, Keep watch, and stay With Me.

Is He whispering to you, I wonder? ...  Stay here and watch with Me, my friend.  

Trials Become a Rainbow

  © Bob Jenkins and licensed for reuse: Creative Commons Licence

You must have rain and sunshine to have a rainbow.  

I don't think it will ever get old... the rainbow sightings in this beautiful land where I live.  

...The blessings of having both rain and sunshine.  This is the beauty of rain and the Sun living side-by-side.  

As a former California girl, I do like the sunshine, I must say...  But, in all my years of living in California, I don't think I ever saw even one rainbow.  

I have seen multiple rainbows here.   Often, really.  Today, again, sitting in the slicing cold wind and being pelted by the rough rain... there it was!  Where did it begin, where did it end?  Just brilliant and beautiful!  A rainbow.  

Each time, remarkable!  Magnificent.  Surprising and exciting.  

But, I endured the rain today in order to enjoy the rainbow.  

Life is like that, isn't it?  He promises to make all things beautiful, doesn't He?  In His time, He says all things will work together for the good of those who love Him!   

In order for His beauty to shine through me, I need a little "rain" in my life.   He reflects His light off my rain!  He uses it.  He uses the rain:  that suffering, this trial and that pain.  He uses the rain to reflect His glory.  He shines forth His colors.  The rain is like a mirror, reflecting and showing forth the Light.  And then,living in Him, I am beautiful.  

...like a rainbow.  

You have to have gray clouds as well as blue skies.  Without the sun, you have no rainbow---this is true!  But, with the sun... and the rain... you have brilliance.  With His glory, You have beauty.  "to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (2 Corinthians 4:7)  

"Indeed in our hearts we felt the sentence of death" ...a rainstorm.  "But, this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God" ... the sun.  "God, who raises the dead!" ...the rainbow! (2 Corinthians 1:9)    

Indeed, you must have rain and sunshine to have a rainbow!  

Pain for Good

Pain can be so very good.

For most years of my life, I have lived with chronic pain.  It has just been a normal part of life.  Not a fun one, to be sure, but normal.

Simply put, without sounding horribly trite, there are lessons I have learned ...hard lessons of trust, surrender, and His unfailing love... that I can't even imagine having learned without the pain.  Pain has, by-in-large, led me to God and opened my heart to Him.  Pain has been a road leading me to good.  

For those of you who have read these past years, you know that my pain had been increasing and intensifying.  In June, I was blessed to have an operation that has brought significant health and wholeness to my body.  And, that operation has ended the pain. Well,... mostly.

I am now five months post-op and, according to my doctor, I should be totally pain free...  mostly healed up from surgery and moving on.  The problem is... I still encounter pain most every day.  Most of the time this pain is not intense--mild, in fact.  I praise Him for this! And, for months I have written-it-all-off as "recovery pain".  ...but, after talking to my doctor today, I am realizing that maybe, just maybe, I still have some troubled issues in my body.  And, ...that indeed, while the surgery did help, it may not have completely solved the problem.

As you can imagine, this has been a bit jolting to my heart and mind today.  ...more pain to come?  ...more issues and problems?  ...bigger ones, even?  In fact, maybe it is nothing at all.  It truly could be nothing of consequence.  I don't know.

And, that is the key, right?  I don't know.  I just don't know.

As I learned so intimately from the Lord months ago, only He really sees those deep insides of my body and my heart.  Only His hand can really touch and heal.  And, so to Him I turn with this news.  I turn to Him with this confusion and this pain.

And, I have a choice, don't I?  I can rest in all He has taught me along the way... I can recall and remember. I can be still and know He is God!  Or, I can worry and fret.  I can be afraid and try to solve.

Today, I recall what He spoke to His people in Deuteronomy 8:
Be careful... Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands.  He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.

He led you through the wilderness and let you hunger to test your heart and humble you....

I choose today to remember all He has done and all that He is.  I remember that I have learned that man does not live on bread alone!  I remember, today, that sometimes He causes hunger... pain... to teach, to lead, to humble.  And, to feed.  I remember He has fed me.  I remember that this pain has been for my good. It has been good pain.  

“There is no greater mercy that I know of on earth than good health except it be sickness; and that has often been a greater mercy to me than health…

It is a good thing to be without a trouble; but it is a better thing to have a trouble, and know how to get grace enough to bear it.” ~Charles Spurgeon (quote taken from www.aholyexperience.com)

Suffering Makes Perfect

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth. (Psalm 121)

Walking in pain today... not excessive pain, just "reminding" pain... I often lifted my heart and voice to the Lord, What will You do Lord? Lord, please, how will You solve this? My help comes from you, Maker of heaven and earth! How will You heal this in me?

I believe God is shaping in me a deeper "theology" of suffering.

I see Him thrusting me forward in faith, asking me to believe that He will "sort it". He is pushing, pulling and inviting me to believe that He is my Good Shepherd, my Keeper, and my kind Father.

And, I am believing that in His time and in His way, He will heal. How? I don't know. When? I don't know. But, I don't have to worry. I just must learn to talk with Him about it and walk with Him in it.

I am learning. ...not learned, but learning.

So we talked many times today. Father and I, we talked.

Walking through the grocery store, while feeling that reminder of pain, I talked with Him. Making muffins in my kitchen, we talked. What will You do, Father? How will You deliver me?

C.S. Lewis says, "Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free-wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself."

I think I understand Lewis' statement now more than I ever have. My pain and suffering are a significant part of my life itself. It has shaped me and is shaping me. I can see His work through the suffering. The work He is doing in my heart, I see; and I can't imagine that divine work without the pain.

Last week, my husband sent me this poem. It was inserted in an email with the subject line, "for you, my love". What a gift of love it was!

Made Perfect Through Suffering

by Samuel Johnson

I bless thee, Lord, for sorrows sent,
To break my dream of human power;
For now my shallow cistern's spent,
I find thy founts, and thirst no more.

I take thy hand and fears grow still,
Behold thy face and doubts remove;
Who would not yield his wavering will,
To perfect Truth and boundless Love?

That Love this restless soul doth teach,
The strength of thine eternal calm;
And tune its sad and broken speech,
To join, on Earth, the angels' psalm.

Oh, be it patient in my hands,
And drawn, through each mysterious hour,
To service of thy pure commands,
The narrow way to Love and Power.

*********************************

"Those who have gone before us have left a clear witness: We may seek God or we may seek ease, but we cannot seek both. The road we travel is anything but easy. It is true that God loves us and has a wonderful plan for our lives, but it equally true that the plan is often fraught with tension and uncertainty, and with emotional, spiritual, and physical pain." ~Gary Thomas

A Different Sort of Healing

photo source

"The pathway is broken and the signs are unclear. And, I don't know the reason You brought me here. But, just because you love me the way that you do... I am going to walk through this valley, if You want me to". ... the beautiful song lingers in the background.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I fry the eggs and listen. I can't see very well, anymore, as the water fill my eyes and spills out. Using my dishtowel I wipe my eyes, so that I can flip the egg and pop the toast from the toaster.

I had pain again last night. Difficult, debilitating pain that kept me from sleep. Father, what am I supposed to do? Clearly, I haven't been healed... Has the reaching out done me any good, I wonder.

But my wonder only lasts a short moment as the song continues to minister to my soul, my mind, my heart... "It may not be the way I would have chosen... but, you never said it would be easy. You only said, I'll never go alone." ...my heart prays with the song. Tears continue to roll as my children pound down the stairs and into the kitchen for breakfast.

Sweet-girl enters, sees the tears and comes in for a hug. Questioning on her face, she hugs tight. I enjoy the embrace, hand her the plate of eggs and tell her, "Mom has 'momma pain' today". She knowingly smiles with compassion in her eyes and then hears the song in the background. ...and hugs me again.

And, I whisper into her ear the words of the song, "You only said, I'll never go alone!".

I ask them as they begin to dig-in, Can I start it over again? Can we all listen together?

We listen together. A holy silence as we eat. They let me just listen and eat eggs while tears roll down my cheeks.

The song continues as we all listen to it's closing. "When I can't hear you answer my cries for help, I will remember the suffering that your love put you through... and I will go through the valley if you want me to."

Ann Voskamp in her book, One Thousand Gifts, writes about the well known "healing of the lepers" story (Luke 17). She discusses the healing that takes place for all ten lepers.... their physical healing or "cleansing". And, she writes about the second kind of healing that happens to the one that returns. Jesus says to this one thankful-returnee, "Your faith has made you well".

Wait a minute, here! But, I thought they were already healed, she wrestles. In this journey of discovery, she shares about this Greek word, "sozo". This "made you well" that Jesus speaks is a "sozo-healing" (Luke 17:19). This word apparently wears the meaning of "made whole"; a healing that points to a deeper, fuller, soul-kind-of healing. This sozo healing is received by the one thankful leper on-top of the physical cleansing already received.

I am moved and realize that I have been asking for healing... thinking all the while of the first type. I want physical healing. But, as I sing true surrender over fried eggs, "I will go through the valley if you want me to", I realize I am receiving healing. Deep healing, "sozo" healing.

It is well with my soul. Somewhere deep within, I am expanding. My faith in His goodness, His love, His plans is growing and I feel more whole today ...with the tears ... than I ever have. I feel His Presence and know His touch. Pain or no pain. I am healed within ...deep within. He is healing me, just as I asked when I "reached-out" to touch His hem.

I still don't know what is ahead of me as far as my body is concerned. But, somewhere deep, I feel certain of His love and His care over me. I sense that peace which surpasses understanding. And, this is sweet.

So, although the pathway is broken and the signs are unclear, Lord. I will walk through this valley if you want me to!

You are not through with me yet! Beautiful.

Groaning in Pain

The earth groans and so does my heart.

Pictures to scroll through. Just hit the "next" button if you dare. Picture after picture of devastation. People's lives turned upside down and futures unknown. Pain and suffering for the world to watch. I scroll through... how many more can I even look at ... and water fills my eyes.

The earth groans and so does my heart.

It isn't difficult to look back even a short distance and see in our "rear-view" memory the destruction from other such events. Other too-powerful waves and floods. Other quakes. And, wars... oh! the never-ending wars and evil crime committed daily. Just today I read a headline about a man convicted of multiple torture-related murders.

The earth groans and so does my heart.

My unbelieving friend spoke to me yesterday of our overuse of the planet. I don't disagree. Is this why we are seeing "more" tsunamis and earthquakes she wondered out loud. She spoke of the "earth groaning" without really knowing what she was saying... but, she too was groaning. And, so am I. How do you even begin to speak about such things?

Today, as I scroll through the pictures with pain, my heart doesn't ask, "Why?!", though. Not today. But, instead my heart groans, "When?". Lord, Jesus, When?...

When will You, Almighty Creator, Kind and Everlasting Father, ...when will this end? When will your justice roll down and your mercy fill the earth?

When will You, my Savior Jesus, my Lord, my loving Brother, ... when will you return on that white horse? When will You collect Your bride and wipe all our tears?

When will You, Holy Spirit, revive the dead and breathe into the rotting bones... when will You breath and call Home your Church?

When will You make all things new? When will the groaning end... and all things be made right? When, Father?

For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. (Romans 8:22)

Come, Lord Jesus, Come!

Lame oven... lame body

So a month ago my oven was pretty lame. Only two burners worked, and not very well. The oven was inconsistent, not hot enough and/or scorching any and all food I attempted to cook. You just never knew!? Or at least I didn't know... operator error is always a possibility.

My landlady graciously offered to buy me a new oven and I was thrilled. I waited in anticipation of this new oven!

I now have the new oven and I am grateful. The burners work wonderfully and it is beautiful and clean. But, of course, it isn't perfect. (shocking, I know! smile) This oven is smaller. My old oven was small. This oven is tiny. And, on Saturday I found out my oven dishes don't fit!

In a morning attempt to cook scones for breakfast, it became clear that all my oven pans and baking sheets don't fit. It was a moment that almost produced tears. Crazy, I know. Tears over an oven?? And tears over a beautiful, new oven, at that?!! But, ...my pans don't fit!? Frustration. ...even anger.

It is amazing what a very silly thing, like an oven and baking sheets, can show about the state of my heart. As I internally writhed and quaked over this desperate plight... this horrid oven... I knew at once that my emotional state (and outburst) had very little to do with the oven. And, yes, soo very little to do with the baking sheets.

You see, I am exceedingly frustrated these days with this "old" body of mine... this tent that God has given me to live in on earth. It really is very lame sometimes! Only a few "burners" work well and sometimes it is too hot and often not hot enough... okay, well maybe I am stretching the analogy too far. But you get the point. (smile)

My body is breaking down and I have suffered with this long term illness and pain too long... or so it feels. So it seems.

One would have thought I had long ago dealt with this emotionally. I have been dealing with this for over 25 years! But, I am learning that the Lord seems to have me on the same path over and over again.

Okay, He says, Now we re-visit My love. Now, we are back to re-visiting trust and surrender. Oh, it looks like it is time to re-walk the concept of grace.

And, okay, now it is time to re-visit suffering and pain.

Each time He and I journey down these familiar paths they are deeper, maybe even harder, and ...well, sweeter, too. So, again together we walk down the road of my personal pain. And, I process, lament, and learn.

I was reading in a beautifully tender book written by Amy Carmichael, Rose from Brier. From a place of pain, in the midst of pain and deep suffering, Amy writes about her journey. She talks about the need to surrender to the Lord. She writes about a place where one is able to say with a whole heart, "Dear Lord, yes."

When I read this, I was immediately annoyed by her advice. I was agitated. I still wanted to lament and writhe. I wasn't ready to say, "yes". Not yet.

But, sitting in my kitchen with my too-big baking sheets and my new lame oven, instantly I knew I needed to hold up my hands and say, with pain, "Dear Lord, yes". "yes"

Yes, dear friend Jesus, to an oven that won't fit my baking sheets.

Yes, dear Father, to an upbringing that was packed with pain and hurt.

Yes, dear All-knowing Father, to a body that is broken and suffering.

Yes, dear Lord. Yes.

A Lion's Tears

It was the tears on the face of the lion that made my heart stir. The descriptive picture of his face and his tears instantly brought tears to my own eyes. My chest ached a little as I listened to the story. And, in that moment I learned something. Nothing new. I just learned it again. ...maybe in a new way.

We just finished reading The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis together as a family. It has been such a sweet journey for me to listen, with my children, to my husband's rich voice read these classic books out-loud.

It isn't my first time reading the Chronicles of Narnia... and it won't be my last. So rich. So full of lessons of truth and love.

Today, in our reading, the boy "Digory" speaks with Aslan, the lion, about his dying mother. With tears, this young boy, pleads that Aslan would heal his mother and asks that she would be well. This boy weeps as he intercedes for his mother, pleading with the great lion (who in these marvelous books can do pretty much anything!).

As the boy weeps and pleads, his head is bowed before the lion. And, then ...he looks up. As he raises his head, he sees something that surprises him. And, it surprises the reader. Aslan is crying with him. Aslan is grieving with Digory in that moment. Deep grief. The connection between this little "Son of Adam-boy" and Aslan is deep and lasting.

It is those tears that help Digory move forward in his grief later in the book. It is the compassionate face of Aslan that make all things right in Digory's heart... despite the circumstances in which he finds himself.

My heart was stirred. My welling tears were real. And, my chest ached just a bit today as we read.

After feeling the difficulty of my illness last week. After witnessing devastating darkness on the night streets of Bangkok. After walking along side many hurting people last week... hearing many difficult stories and witnessing real, deep, painful tears ...

...I wrote in my journal: "How, Father, do we know Your rest and Your safety in the middle of this sin-stained, woe-ful, dark world? Where are You, Lord? When will You make it better?"

Today, I raise my head and only have to glance at His face. And, I know what I see there. His big, full, heart-wrenching tears join mine. His face says it all. He knows. He sees. He hurts.

...with me.

More than me.

And, this picture of my Father's face... This picture of His Son, my brother Jesus' face.. The image of the grieving Holy Spirit... They help me to know that I am connected to something much bigger, much more real and more eternal.

I am far from, very far from, alone in my grief.

And, my head raises and my soul is comforted by my Lion's tears.

Downcast

I found out today that I am again at a dead-end with getting any treatment or help for my ongoing, long-standing disease.

Why so downcast O my soul?

These words spoken by David years ago, echo the cry of my heart today as I wrestle with sadness and disappointment.

Tears linger on the rims of my already red eyes. And, there aren't many more words... I am just sad.

Why so disturbed within me?

Sometimes it is just good to speak to your soul. Sometimes asking questions, hard questions of my soul is important. And, helpful. So, I ask myself... Why so disturbed within me? And, then I speak, like my brother David did, I speak to my soul ...

Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise you.

These words aren't trite to me today. They are spoken in pain from my confused head to my sad soul... they aren't "praise the Lord!" with an indifferent smile or a wave of ignorance. My head speaks these deep words and calls out to the depth of my soul... put your hope in God!

Deep calls to deep.

My head speaks these true words. I will yet praise him. ...it will come. The praise. It will come again. I will be able to say, "I praise the Lord" from the depth of my soul again and with a smile.

I will yet praise Him. This is my hope. He is my hope.

But, right now, today... it is okay to say to God, "Why have you forgotten me? Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by my enemy?" I ask my soul hard questions. David reminds me it is okay to ask God hard questions, too.

Why so downcast O my soul? Put your hope in God. for I will yet praise Him. My Savior and my God. Psalm 42

Pathway to Pain

photo source

Walk the plank or be killed by pirates. 


There is no way around it, really. Either way, it's going to hurt! The only way forward is "into" pain. And, I don't know about you, but I don't particularly like pain...

In fact, I have perfected a few successful techniques in avoiding pain. I use those avoidance-strategies (i.e. Tylenol, a good book, sleep, a television show, a game, food,...etc.), for better or for worse, on a regular basis.

I find myself stuck at a crossroads or on a plank... and there is no way forward except through pain. And, this, in-and-of-itself ... is painful.

Choosing suffering is never easy, even if it can't be avoided.

...to walk off that plank, or into that lion's den...

I have a disease that has plagued my body since I can remember. Most of my early pre-teen memories include the distress of this disease... both in body and in mind. The disease I have is not life-threatening, in any way. For that, I am deeply thankful. But, the pain of this particular disease can be significantly debilitating and it doesn't have a cure. And, well, to put it plainly... that stinks!!

There is no way around it... it just stinks!!

In our house, we "fondly" (or not so fondly) refer to this disease as "Mamma's Mommy Pain". And, no one in the house wants to hear that Mamma is feelin' her Mommy Pain!

The nature of the disease is one in which... basically, I have an operation and the pain goes away (or at least in part) for a few years. And, then gradually it comes back... slowly at first and then like a tsunami it hits. This past year the waves, in size and frequency, have increased. Last month, I got knocked down more than once. So, "it's back".

In short, I find myself looking ahead at two roads, there is no way around it... pain road #1 (live with it as the waters of pain arise) and pain road #2 (surgery, AGAIN... which will definitely help, but not cure. And, is never fun and never easy).

My Father and I have had numerous conversations about this lately. This time around, I feel I have done a better job of lamenting, in worship, through the "why, Lord" emotional experience of it all. I thank God for preparing my heart through my current reading of Michael Card's, Sacred Sorrow.

I have just felt sad. Sad that I have this. And, fed-up... Done. Enough, already!? There has been some good lament going on in my soul. I am deeply thankful that my Heavenly Father is perfectly okay with lamentation!

Sunday, in the midst of silence and solitude, ...in the middle of an empty-heart-moment ... God, my Father, showed up like Light through His word to this tired heart.

I read these words: "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." Isaiah 43:2

And, tonight, as I sit here unable to sleep and writing a blog post at 4 AM... I am reminded of the words that precede those sweet words. "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine." Isaiah 43:1

My kind, loving Father seems to be speaking Presence into my heart. And, Ownership. Something a bit like, "You belong to Me!" and "I will be with you".

Is this a taste of what Jesus might have been experiencing when it says, "For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross". I don't know. It doesn't answer the pain or solve the disease... but it does make the journey toward pain, the pathway to pain, a bit less daunting. More than that, it makes it bearable.

This pathway to pain, or through pain, is with him by me. In me. Over me.

So, onto the plank or turning back to the pirates... at least, I know that I don't walk alone.

I forget sometimes

Sometimes in my comfy chair and with my automatic coffee maker, I forget.

Today He reminded me. And, I am so glad.

I forget that my brothers and sisters around the world are suffering. Deep and dark suffering every day.

As I prayed today, I wondered what Asia Bibi might be like... What might we talk about, without a language barrier, if she sat in my living room, curled up on my comfy couch, drinking my hot coffee? Would she tell me charming stories about her friends and family? Would her eyes sparkle as she spoke of her conversion and faith? When she laughed, like me, might she unconsciously raise her hand to cover her mouth? Would she cry or would she show anger?

If she, like Job before her, entered into lament and worship through pain, what might I do? How would I respond? Would I let her rant, rave, and question Our Father? Or would I accuse her of sin like Job's friends? Would I question her faith and tell her about God? Could I be silent long enough. Could I sit one more day in quiet and lament with her?

What might she be feeling as she flees and hides for her life? I can't imagine. No, I suppose that isn't true. I can imagine. I can guess, at least. Is she full of fear, or anxiety? Is she worrying about the future and her family? Is she hearing every noise at night and not able to sleep soundly? Is she regretful? Does she doubt or question?

My Father reminded me today that Asia Bibi, and the thousands of others suffering persecution for their faith, are real people. Very real people. And, more than just human, they are my sisters. These are my brothers. These names, faces and stories are my family.

When I enter in and allow myself to care for these sweet ones, these faces, I can begin to feel overwhelmed. But, today I was reminded that entering and feeling with them is a part of my intercession. My opening up and allowing their stories to touch my heart IS a part I play in joining them in suffering. This "joining with" or "entering in" alone is of value. I can actually be "present" with them in their sufferings... through prayer.

Paul tells us in Hebrews to "Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering." As if I were with them... as if I was fleeing for my life... ...as if I were hungry and afraid... remember.

So, I remember them today and I imagine what they might be feeling and then I pray.

When I enter in, I can feel guilty or wrong sitting in my comfy chair, drinking my hot coffee. But, I know that I can't begrudge God's sovereign choice to fill my cupboards with food and give me safety and prosperity. It is His prerogative and His right to choose this for me. I need to be content with blessing AND in need.

I need to be ready for both. I need to honor Him in both. I need to receive both blessing and hardship from His knowing, loving hand.

In fact, I can take this blessing, this space and margin I have in life, to bless others. I can pray.

I can only guess that Asia Bibi is wondering where they will sleep tonight and how she is to feed her family. I can guess that her ability and capacity to pray much for others is less than mine. I have space. I have margin. I have capacity. And, so, I take this blessing and use it to bless her. I want to join her, really join her, as I pray.

Thank you for reminding me Holy Spirit. Keep reminding me, I ask.

"And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains." Col. 4:3

"I am in chains now, still preaching this message as God's ambassador. So pray that I will keep on speaking boldly for him, as I should." Eph 6:20