Author: bekaburnsblog

This Far: why you can face the next thing

/ bekaburnsblog / Leave a comment

—

“Don’t you know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God with your body.”

-1 Corinthians 6:17, 19

—

I read this verse a week ago – the day before I lined up for my first marathon – and I chuckled.

Three years ago I was in the ICU. Last December, I was in surgery to remove a salivary gland tumor. I’m still managing a heart arrhythmia, POTS, endometriosis, copper deficiency, and a touch of asthma. Putting my body on a 26.2 mile race course sounds like a bad joke.

And yet, these last three years have taught me that “glorify God with your body,” is not the same thing as, “be the best, the fastest, and the strongest.”

“…God’s weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength. Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you. Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful.  God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important.  As a result, no one can ever boast in the presence of God.“

-1 Corinthians 1:25-29

It is often in my weakness and my lack that people get to see Jehovah showing Himself strong – coming to my rescue when I have nothing left, answering desperate prayers whispered in the dark, restoring, strengthening, and quietly encouraging my heart to keep going when the storm doesn’t let up and the hard path before me stretches out longer than I can see.

He doesn’t need me to be the best. He already is the best, and He can show it through my life as I invite Him into my weakness. Our God shows Himself strong on our behalf, not just by enabling us to make impressive performances, but by empowering us to walk through struggle with impressive grace.

And when He asks us to glorify Him with our body, I think He means with the one He’s given us. Yes, that one. Worn, fatigued, broken, and not working like it used to, but this is what we’re called to show up in.

Sometimes, these bodies of ours are like Gideon’s 300 men. They’re not the presence and strength we wanted to go into battle with; they’re what’s left when so much of what we started with is depleted and lost. But for the One who can do anything, this little we have to offer is more than enough for what He wants to accomplish. He can fill and overflow in every place we are lacking.

And the glory He gets through our bodies is more than the fading glory our world chases after – it’s the type of glory that hints at what our souls are starving for. Peace. Wholeness. Contentment. Self-control. Joy. Rest. Patient longsuffering. Unselfish Love. The fruit of the Spirit, flowing through us in the midst of a struggle that should have our weakened minds and bodies at their most irritable and reactive….that is another type of glory altogether. And He can do it through you and me, in the very situation that seems to be breaking us and pushing us past all our limits.

“Why a marathon? Don’t you have enough going on right now?”

If that’s your question, I get it. I echoed the same one to myself all year. I think my short answer would be: “I was going through some stuff. I felt like the training would help me face it.”

In the days before the race, I realized some of it was probably a bid for control and confidence, coming out of a long season where I felt so helpless in the waves of medical trauma, broken plans, and transition to a new normal that hit our family.

“If I can do this,” I thought, “I’ll prove to myself that I’m doing better – I’ll finally believe that I really am doing okay enough to face everything else. I’ll know that I am strong and consistent enough to handle the next wave of things.”

But on the other side of crying out to Jesus at mile 22 to get us through this thing, my take-away was something different.

Running the marathon and talking about it with other runners afterward, I saw that you can plan, prepare, train and do everything right, and still so much can change in the course of the race. I spoke to some people who glowed and announced a finishing time they were thrilled with. And I spoke to others who told me that it had been a race where everything went wrong. People puked and passed out and got injured. I passed runners going down on the sidewalks, not able to continue, who looked like they’d done this a hundred times before. They were more prepared than I was and something out of their control just went wrong.

I would have been one of the easiest people to knock out of this race, because any number of the issues I deal with can sideline me unexpectedly. But this time, I was given the grace and the help to finish.

Me finishing this thing didn’t really represent me being strong, consistent and in control.

Me finishing was a result of aid.

Water, food, hose-offs, cheers and encouragement from the sidelines. Debby and Heather running next to me, mile after mile. Cody and our parents shuttling and caring for my little children. A backpack in just the right place to form a barrier between my back and the slick steps when I slipped on a muddy mountain hike just a few days before the race. Courage and strength in answer to a prayer for help to finish. The take-away is not the same as the why.

The why was: I want to prove to myself that I can face the next thing, even in this body.

The take-away was: I know I can face this next thing, in any sort of body, because He will help me.

He will answer me when I need him. He will be with me, one mile after another, providing aid. And when I ask, He will give me the eyes to see it. Jehovah-Ezer, “the Lord my help,” is his name.

“In my distress I cried to the Lord,
And He heard me.”

-Psalm 120:1

“I love the Lord because he hears my voice
    and my prayer for mercy.
Because he bends down to listen,
    I will pray as long as I have breath!”

-Psalm 116:1-2

“I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me. He freed me from all my fears.”

-Psalm 34:4

“This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do, yet he did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.”

-Hebrews 4:15-16

Remember.

I sense the nudge in my heart.

Look at this ground where your feet have tread and remember how I helped you. Take courage. Yes, in my strength, you can do this next thing, too. And my Spirit who is in you, whom you have, will always supply that strength as you cry out to Him, as you reach for Him. He has you. You are never alone. You are never without what you need. I can always supply it.

Oh Lord,

Remind me when the way ahead is long, intimidating, and unfamiliar. When I’m tired and raw and losing heart. In this place, too, I can be broken because you are strong. I can be sick and it doesn’t mean I won’t heal. It just doesn’t mean that. Look how far I’ve come.

26.2 miles. You got me through 26.2 miles.

Not where I expected to be, but look how far you’ve brought me. May I not lose sight of how far we’ve come. May my heart not be unbelieving, but believe.

Benaiah is one Ebenezer. This marathon is another. Because when he stabilized and I was still so sick and struggling every single day, I cried out to you not to leave me behind. I thanked you for helping my son, but I wept that I needed more. And you answered me.

“Thus far the Lord has helped us.”

-1 Samuel 7:12

As I look forward to the next course you’ve marked out for me, and as I reckon with the reality that I have no idea how to finish – help me remember what you’ve already done.

May each bench, log, rock, foundation stone, beam, truss and nail on our land echo it as our build comes together:

“This far the Lord has helped us. Just look how far we’ve come.”

And to my friends who are fighting not to lose heart,

Even when there’s a long way to go, let us never think lightly of “this far.” “This far” already holds so many landmarks of His faithfulness to you. “This far” is enough for today, for there will be another “thus far the Lord has helped us,” tomorrow. So remember who it is that dwells within you. He is greater than what you’re facing. He is ready to help you.

“God is our refuge and strength,
    always ready to help in times of trouble.”

-Psalm 46:1

He is ready to work in you a deeper kind of glory and He invites you to show up just as you are and watch Him fight for you.

“Be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power.”

-Ephesians 6:10

“Be still in the presence of the Lord,
    and wait patiently for him to act.“

-Psalm 37:7

“But Moses told the people, “Don’t be afraid. Just stand still and watch the Lord rescue you today. The Egyptians you see today will never be seen again.  The Lord himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.”

-Exodus 14:13-14

You don’t have to have the answers or the strength. You don’t have to know which way to go. You just have to ask. Ask and wait, and ask Him to strengthen your heart to wait.

“I would have lost heart, unless I had believed
That I would see the goodness of the Lord
In the land of the living.

Wait on the Lord;
Be of good courage,
And He shall strengthen your heart;
Wait, I say, on the Lord!”

-Psalm 27:13-14

So, eyes up.

Breathe.

Shake out those tense shoulders.

Take courage.

Fix your eyes on Him.

Then run with endurance.

There is great joy up ahead.

—

—

“Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. “

-Hebrews 12:1-2

—

“So den, wat bout us guys? All dose peopo dat trus God befo time, jalike dey all run one race. An now, jalike dey all stan aroun us guys fo spock us run da race. Az why we gotta hemo all da heavy kine stuff dat make us run slow, an da bad kine stuff dat jam us up. We gotta hang in dea an no give up, an run da whole race dass fo us. Da whole time us guys stay run da race, we look at one guy ony, dass Jesus. He da One dat help us start fo trus God, an da One dat help us fo trus God to da end. Wen he wen suffa on top da cross, he hang in dea. Neva bodda him dat dey make him come shame. He do dat cuz he know dat bumbye he goin come real good inside. An in da end, he sit down in da mos importan place, by God throne, on da right side. So tink plenny bout Jesus! How he wen hang in dea an no give up wen all kine bad stuff from all da bad peopo go agains him. If you guys tink bout Jesus lidat, den you guys no goin get tired an lose fight.“

-Hebrews 12:1-3 (Hawaii Pidgin Bible)

You Don’t Have a Bucket: when what we need feels out of reach

/ bekaburnsblog / 1 Comment

“If you knew the gift of God, and who is saying to you, “Give me a drink,” you would ask Him, and He would give you living water.”

–John 4:10

—

There’s a lot more than I’m used to going on right now.

As we push out of survival mode and into the direction we’ve been given, I often wrestle with fear that it’s all too much and I hoped a little too big.

We bought land and built a driveway, expecting to move to the forest and use it pour into people. But so far, we’ve felt unexpected leading to wait on construction. I thought we’d be building a house now. Instead, we are building a bench. A place to sit in the quiet and meet with the Lord.

It’s a solid place to start. That’s the whole heartbeat of the project. But I also thought more of a plan would have come together at this point, and it’s easy for me to strain over why we don’t have in place the clarity, direction, and resources to be doing more yet. I’m content to just walk forward and do the next thing. I can be okay with waiting or with the Lord doing something entirely different. We’re His and so is the land. I just wish I knew what to expect. Sometimes, I ache for the answers.

I’m preparing to travel overseas, to pass on or pack up our belongings. To grieve and to encourage. To try to love on our team there, say goodbye well, and press into what’s next whole-heartedly. I’m trying to set my family up for when I’m gone, homeschooling my first grader, driving kids to appointments and classes, balancing training with our new role with continuing to serve at the Homes Garage. The scan to check if my tumor has come back is next week, my son’s brain scan is a few days later, the plants are dying and need water, my kids put a towel in the oven, we’re potty training and I’m mopping up an accident while teaching addition.

And then my three-year-old hid my keys. (I think).

By morning, I still hadn’t found them, I had forgotten to ask Cody to leave me his truck key before he left for work, it was time to leave for an appointment, I’m getting shoes on the kids, my calls aren’t going through, and it was bucketing rain. I needed my keys and I couldn’t find them and my full plate felt like it was starting to crack. Ever been there?

Is it the keys I really need? Is it the answers?

—

I’ve been going through the Gospels over the last month and paying attention to people’s objections when Jesus invited, offered, or told them to do something.

Jesus: “Peter, go out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

Peter: “Lord, we’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing, but if you say so…” (Luke 5:5)

—

Jesus: “Would you like to get well?”

Sick Man at Bethesda: “I can’t, for I have no one to put me into the pool!” (John 5:2-9)

—

Disciples: “This is a remote place, it’s getting late, send the crowds away.”

Jesus: “that won’t be necessary, you feed them.”

Disciples: “But we only have 5 loaves and two fish!”

Jesus: “Bring them to me.” (Matthew 14:15-18)

—

Over and over, I saw people identify that their supply was exhausted and that what they needed was out of reach. Just like I do. Over and over, people missed that the One they were talking to WAS what they needed. Just like I do.

My favorite was the woman at the well:

Jesus: “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”

Woman: “But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket, and this well is very deep. Where would you get this living water?” (John 4:10-11)

Can you imagine? The One who holds the oceans in the palm of his hand offered to give her living water, and she told Him He actually couldn’t be of help because He didn’t have a bucket.

She told God He couldn’t reach what she needed. Just like I do.

But He caused fish to swarm their nets, He cured a thirty-eight year illness without moving the man to the pool, and He satisfied thousands of guests from one boy’s lunch without running out for refills.

And He had the stories of what He did written down over and over for us to rehearse, because through them, He says, “You don’t actually need to reach what’s over there. I’m right here. You don’t need the pool. You need me. It doesn’t matter how deep that well is, I am the wellspring of life. I don’t need a rope or a bucket, or a new fishing spot, or fresh, rested workers. I don’t need to go get more ingredients, I don’t need to be able to reach the shops, I don’t need more than what you have right here and right now. You might need a breather, but I don’t. Because I am your supply. It’s me. I’m here. I am what you need. Don’t tell me what I can’t do. Just ask me to help.”

I’ve been fighting feelings of overwhelm, lack and confusion. I’m hitting the limits of what I can predict or expect, and realizing over and over that I just don’t have the control or power to bring about what I’m hoping for. But the more I’ve gotten to know mature believers, the more I realize many of them are also carrying question marks toward what’s ahead.

Our culture hates a question mark. We cherish specific, measurable, attainable goals with a deadline. We love a plan we can wrap our minds around. We’re more comfortable with a God who needs to use a bucket and rope to reach water, just like we do, maybe just a little stronger. We don’t know what to do with the real thing.

But I’m realizing those question marks are not a problem. They’re the mark of humility. They’re the mark of a soft heart that’s willing to change course as the Spirit leads. They’re the mark of wisdom that has learned we serve a God that is beyond our understanding, and with all we have learned about Him, we still cannot fathom what He will do next.

And so I will fight my temptation to object when He leads me somewhere confusing and I don’t see the supplies I think I’ll need. I can respond with an objection or with a question mark. With a demand or with humility.

Will I say, “But you don’t have a bucket!”
Or will I say, “Lord, this is a question mark for me. I have no idea how you are going to give me water, even without a bucket. But I know you don’t need one. Please be my supply. Please help.”

As I take stock of the pressures and worries of my heart, where do I object? Where am I telling God that He doesn’t have a bucket? Where am I complaining that what I need is out of reach? What would it look like to let go of needing to understand when and how He’s going to fix it, to mark that situation with a question mark, and bring it to Him for help? What changes as I get still and remember that He is who He says He is and that this is not too hard for Him?

Oh Lord,

May these moments of reading about you questioning, inviting, testing, and challenging people; then watching you overcome lack, limitation, overwhelm, weariness and depth put to rest my objections for the sake of “If you say so, Lord.”

May what you have to say always be enough for me.

I have been drowning in objections, but I am listening. I feel in over my head. But nothing is too hard for you. You always have more than enough to give.

Jehovah Jireh.

May I not strain to bring things together, but breathe and wait for you to work.

“Be still in the presence of the Lord,
    and wait patiently for him to act…”

–Psalm 37:7

I don’t HAVE to reach here or there. Lord, I feel all these pressures to meet other people’s needs, to meet my own. But they don’t NEED me. They need you. And you have it in hand. So it has to be you, Lord.

“…So this joy of mine is complete. He must increase, but I must decrease.”

–John 3:29-30

Please give what I do not have to give. Please come provide what I cannot provide. Please let your power rest on me in my weakness. Please pour out living water, given without measure. Help me to listen to your Spirit. Guide my steps. Teach my heart. Lead me into all truth. I need you. I need wisdom. Please give it liberally, as you promise to. Help me to recognize it and lean on it. Help me to perceive your voice – and then, not to object. Because if you say so, that is enough.

There is no greater wisdom than to do something, just because that’s what you said to do. I don’t need to be able to make sense of it or explain it.

Lord, root out my unbelieving objections. Teach me to replace them with question marks, and allow those unknowns while I wait on you. I don’t know what’s ahead, which way to go, or have control. Teach me still to hope, while letting go of my need to claim specifics I don’t have. I can accept that there are unknowns I have no way of clearing up until I reach them, and yet I do not have to fear them. To admit I do not know what is coming is not the same thing as fearful timidity. I can do it with humble boldness.

Because You are there. Out in front, in the future, on the waves, in the dark, beckoning me to follow even though You have not shown me what you will do or how you will rescue.

You do have control. You do know the future. You are writing it. Nothing is too hard for you, so I will not be afraid.

I can get before you, right here, where it feels like it’s time to send the crowd away because I don’t have enough. I’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing and I’m spent. I don’t have a bucket. I can’t reach the pool.

And you will say, “But I am here. I am with you. Don’t worry. Stand still and watch what I will do.“

“Oh, how great are God’s riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways!

 For who can know the Lord’s thoughts?
    Who knows enough to give him advice?[l]
And who has given him so much
    that he needs to pay it back?[m]

For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen.“

–Romans 11:33-36

“Who else has held the oceans in his hand?
    Who has measured off the heavens with his fingers?
Who else knows the weight of the earth
    or has weighed the mountains and hills on a scale?
13 Who is able to advise the Spirit of the Lord?[c]
    Who knows enough to give him advice or teach him?
14 Has the Lord ever needed anyone’s advice?
    Does he need instruction about what is good?
Did someone teach him what is right
    or show him the path of justice?

15 No, for all the nations of the world
    are but a drop in the bucket.
They are nothing more
    than dust on the scales.
He picks up the whole earth
    as though it were a grain of sand.“

–Isaiah 40:12-15

 “Then Job replied to the Lord:

2 “I know that you can do anything,
    and no one can stop you.
3 You asked, ‘Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorance?’
    It is I—and I was talking about things I knew nothing about,
    things far too wonderful for me.“

–Job 42:1-3

Never Useless: laying aside harsh words for hard stories

/ bekaburnsblog / 1 Comment

—

“In the years since our lives changed forever…”

It was a humble, short phrase, soaked with intention. The author was Katherine Wolf, survivor of a brain stem stroke that disabled her body, her speech, her face, and nearly claimed her life in her early twenties.

But she didn’t write, “In the years since my devastating stroke…” She didn’t even name what happened to her. She didn’t say “ruined.” Instead, she expressed the lasting impact of the stroke by using the phrase, “changed forever.” Katherine refused to turn her story over to be a narrative of only damage.

I wanted that same intention in how I frame what we’ve walked through, but I didn’t know how to get there. So, I started asking the Lord to give me His words for my story.

When I try to explain it, it goes like this:

(If you already know it, feel free to skip ahead.)

We studied for years and worked hard to pay for the flight training needed to prepare for an aviation ministry overseas. We sold our vehicles and belongings and moved our entire lives to Papua New Guinea to support missionaries working to translate the word of God into new languages. We studied the trade language for months to be able to live and function in the country. Then we got pregnant with our second baby. It was a brutal pregnancy filled with unrelenting nausea and vomiting that we could not get under control even with the prescription medications the doctors at our base were able to give me. We fought to handle it with IV fluids a few times a week and support from our co-workers to feed and care for our family while Cody continued in simulator training and working on the planes in the hangar.

Seventeen weeks into the pregnancy, our leadership and medical staff sent us back to the U.S. to receive more complex medical care. I was placed on a pump, constantly infusing nausea medication, then hospitalized for a cardiac arrhythmia that was contributing to how fatigued and weak I felt. I came home with a wearable defibrillator and an implanted heart monitor, then gave birth in the ICU. Shortly after we got the baby home, he began having eye tremors. We took him to the hospital and found that he had fluid compressing and leaking into his brain tissue, cysts in two parts of his brain, and another part that never formed at all. We delayed our return to Papua New Guinea and set up housing and interim work serving at the mission’s retirement home for the next year, which we spent getting frequent brains scans for the baby, trialing a medication to slow down the fluid, and seeing specialists. Each time we thought we were in the clear and could return to our home overseas, another issue came up with either Benaiah, Cody, or I that we had to address: surgery for a birth defect, surgery for ear infections, appendicitis, a tumor too deep to biopsy, speech delays, nervous system disorders, and then, daily migraines which forfeited Cody’s ability to renew his flight medical. Finally, we tried to go back to Papua New Guinea, in a mechanic role, to give whatever we had left, and two things happened. One, another evaluation revealed new delays with the recommendation for more support and early intervention for our child. Two, we felt an unexpected peace that there was something new the Lord had for us to press into: a ministry of comfort and encouragement to missionaries and ministry workers who are struggling.

People can ask me a simple question and sometimes I’ve wrestled that information into a straightforward answer, but sometimes it still unleashes a flood of emotion, frustration, and unexpected detail. Sometimes, I shut the topic down and pack all that untidiness away.

We can be like that with our stories.

Many of our lives take us on trajectories we never wanted or expected. I know the Lord had purpose in it. But I’ve struggled as we’ve made the pivot into this new and good thing before us. It meant letting go of trying to get back to our life in Papua New Guinea. It meant accepting that our lives had changed forever. And it was heart-breaking.

But reading Katherine’s words was a reminder that even our hardest stories are more than what has happened to us or what we’ve lost, and I wanted a way to talk and think about mine that reflected God’s unfaltering intentions and purposes, not just my heartache and confusion.

So I took some intentional time to put away distractions with the purpose of asking the Lord to meet me in the discomfort that I normally numb. I tried to breathe through many, many uncomfortable thoughts and just invite Jesus into those moments.

Comfort me, Lord. Give me your words for my story. Uproot anything that’s untrue. Plant your truth deep in its place.

For a few weeks I have been praying this, and I wanted to share a passage the Lord challenged me with as I sought Him in his word. Right smack in the middle of the powerhouse book of Philippians, Paul takes a moment to talk about Epaphroditus, a man who risked his life for the sake of Christ:

“Meanwhile, I thought I should send Epaphroditus back to you. He is a true brother, co-worker, and fellow soldier. And he was your messenger to help me in my need. I am sending him because he has been longing to see you, and he was very distressed that you heard he was ill. And he certainly was ill; in fact, he almost died. But God had mercy on him – and also on me, so that I would not have one sorrow after another. So I am all the more anxious to send him back to you, for I know you will be glad to see him, and then I will not be so worried about you. Welcome him in the Lord’s love and with great joy, and give him the honor that people like him deserve. For he risked his life for the work of Christ, and he was at the point of death while doing for me what you couldn’t do from far away.”

-Philippians 2:25-30

Here’s what I had never noticed before: Epaphroditus risked his life for the sake of Christ by getting sick.

Does this sound familiar?

My breath caught and I started to object, “But Lord, I didn’t stay to the point of death itself…”

Epaphroditus wanted to keep going. He wanted to give more than he had to give. He got sent back from something that was really important to him. He got sick. This was not his plan. His story is here for a reason. Do you want my words for your story? Look at how I describe his.

I studied the words used to depict Epaphroditus:

True brother, co-worker, fellow soldier. Welcome him with love and great joy. Give the honor people like him deserve.

I sat quietly with this passage, and I felt a gentle question nudge my heart:

“What if I honor the very thing that fills you with shame?”

Epaphroditus never would have written these things about himself. Nor would I describe myself that way. But I’m writing down this wrestling because I don’t think I’m the only one carrying around a bitter accusation that what I tried to give to the Lord was lost. And I think He confronted me on this because He thinks differently than you or I.

Lost? What do you mean? You offered it to me. As you walk with me, what you lose, give up, or suffer, I count as an offering.

Epaphroditus was upset that the Philippian church even found out he had been sick. But God inspired Paul to write these glowing words about a man who was being sent home. A man whose service was affected and interrupted by an illness totally outside his control.

I get honoring great sacrifice when I see what it accomplished. When hardship happens and it gets in the way and erodes what I am able to give; when I see cost, but I can’t trace out how it could be worthwhile…other words come to mind.

What was all of that? Why did we train for years and leave everything to give our lives to the work of spreading the Gospel only to end up hospitalized and scrambling to figure out housing back in the United States?

How useless. What a waste.

Those are the painful words that have painted my disappointment with extra sting.

What are yours?

My aching friends, God doesn’t think the same way we do.

He didn’t just see Epaphroditus’ body, taken down by illness, falling short of all he may have wanted to accomplish. God saw his heart.

He sees yours and mine, too, even when we are spent and there’s so much more need beyond our reach. Even when it all falls apart and we’re trying to rally, but we’re limping and frustrated and filled with doubt. Even when, like Epaphroditus, we’d rather people not even know how desperate things got. Even when we’ve tried to do something good and it blows up in our face.

“…Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

-1 Samuel 16:7

God doesn’t look at weakness or sickness with annoyance like you and I might. He’s not surprised when it disrupts our plans. He’s not stuck on how it’s holding us back. He tells us we can boast all the more gladly about our weakness, because it is in that weakness (not once we get past it) that his power rests on us and that we find His grace sufficient. The unexpected stuff that hits our lives is part of the course that He’s marked out for us, even and especially when it gets in the way of what we wanted to offer.

This week, as I’ve continued asking the Lord to give me His words for my story, I was reading Malachi chapter 3 and I came across this:

““Your words against me are harsh,” says the Lord.

Yet you ask, “What have we spoken against you?”

 You have said, “It is useless to serve God…” 

And again, I was challenged. When I say, “What a waste. How useless.” Not only are those NOT God’s words for anything my story has held, but while leaning on my own understanding, I am speaking harshly against Him. I’m looking at the short timeline and the visible things I can wrap my human brain around and declaring that since this didn’t turn out the way I hoped, it was a waste. But here’s the truth,

“So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless.”

-1 Corinthians 15:58

Why would Paul need to write that to the church at Corinth? Because life is full of trouble and ministry is hard. Sometimes, it feels useless. So we need the truth that it is never useless.

If you’re spent and hurting and fighting with the lie that it’s not worth it. I’m going to repeat it again. This is what God has to say. Here’s your sword, pick it up:

NOTHING YOU DO FOR THE LORD IS EVER USELESS.

NOTHING YOU’VE DONE FOR THE LORD WAS EVER A WASTE.

In this life you will have trouble. But take heart. He is using those troubles.

Sometimes, it’s not the satisfying moments when it all comes together, it’s the hollow ones when it all comes apart where we learn to treasure and be satisfied in Him. Sometimes, He’s doing something new we never saw coming. Sometimes, waiting feels like defeat, but it’s not.

“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time, we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.”

-Galatians 6:9

Epaphroditus carried the letter of Philippians from Paul to the church of Philippi. Maybe he carried the weight of disappointment on that long trek back, too.

Why, Lord, when I came all this way, would you let me get that sick?

But in leaving his ministry in Rome behind, Epaphroditus served as the courier that made it possible for you and I to read the words, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”

We have Philippians because Epaphroditus carried it back when he was sent home unexpectedly.

Maybe you, too, are carrying a message that God has crafted to strengthen and encourage and comfort, out of the very disappointment that has left your heart heavy, and you yourself just haven’t laid eyes on it yet.

Can you imagine the look on Epaphroditus’ face when Paul’s description of him was read out loud to the whole church?

I bet that same shocked, humbled feeling would overcome our hearts if we got a good glimpse of the way the Lord sees us. And I imagine He would say:

When I speak about you with grace, joy, hope, and satisfaction. Don’t argue. Take it in. This is who you are because of my Son. Welcomed, loved, honored, upright. Whether you’re making headway or collapsing under duress. When you’re strong and when you’re weak. I love you. I have always loved you. And I’m looking for your heart, not for what you have to offer me.

“So we have stopped evaluating others from a human point of view. At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view. How differently we know him now!“

-2 Corinthians 5:16

“For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him...”

-2 Chronicles 16:9

When Hebrews 12 tells us to lay aside every weight, I think a good portion of it might be wrong descriptions of ourselves, and heavy, stinging versions of our stories that speak harshly of their author. Let’s not carry those around anymore. Life is heavy enough. But our God, full of grace and truth, has spoken new things over us, and He promises that there is a bigger story happening with the suffering and loss we can’t make sense of.

What if we took a deep breath of trust, moved into those dark, hurting places, held it all up to the Lord, and asked Him for His version? What if He’s gentle to us? What if He comforts us? What if He give us rest for our souls?

Lord,

I trust you, here and now, that this is the path you’ve marked out for me and you’re doing more with it than I could ever grasp. So, I will not call “loss” what you call “offering.” I trust how you describe me, even when I see all my issues, and I will take my stand behind the breastplate of your perfect righteousness, which has been applied to me in Christ, to extinguish every fiery dart of accusation my enemy would hurl at my heart, and every harsh word he would speak about my story.

I will not agree with him by speaking of you or of me in that way. Fill my heart instead with your truth, your words, and your peace.

“Unless the Lord had helped me, I would soon have settled in the silence of the grave. I cried out, “I am slipping!” but your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me. When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.”

-Psalm 94:17-19

““Each time He said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

-2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Birdsong: the sound of the secure

/ bekaburnsblog / 1 Comment

“Don’t be like them, for your Father knows exactly what you need even before you ask him!…And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, He will certainly care for you…”

-Matthew 6: 8, 30

—

I was pushing Benaiah on a swing.

He had taken turns with Eliana and it had been a struggle for him but he had complied with a lot of coaching. She went in with her siblings and school was supposed to start back up. I still had several math problems and a handwriting worksheet to work through with Abishai and I thought I would be herding my kids back inside to get to work, too. But Benaiah was loving the swing.

And I just thought, So many times I rush him off this swing.

It’s someone else’s turn. I can’t see your brother. It’s time to go. And he’s never finished. What would it look like to swing him, not until I was finished, but until he was? Today, I reasoned, I had the time to find out. Math and handwriting could wait. My two-year old boy would only be two for one more month and I was going to swing him to his heart’s content.

So I sang to him to pass the time and I pushed him on the swing.

I quoted verses and I pushed him on the swing.

Then I grew still and quiet and I pushed him on the swing.

A book I was reading had just talked of “the still, small voice” that spoke to Elijah after the earthquake and the windstorm and the fire. It was a Hebrew phrase used to describe forehead-touching intimate moments between a mother and a baby or two lovers.

And in my stillness, pushing the swing, on Bolivia Court, my heart reached for that still, small voice.

Lord, what would you have to say to me today, if our foreheads touched?

Look at the birds. Came the quiet nudge to my heart.

So I looked up. They were everywhere. Flitting from branch to branch, strutting across the yards, singing, flying, hopping. Man, there were a lot of birds. I hadn’t noticed them. So I looked. I really looked.

Notice that I didn’t say to look at the squirrels, the nudge came again.

I thought about squirrels. Where birds seem carefree and happy in their constant movement, squirrels seem…frantic. I thought about their hoarding. Constantly storing up. Famous for their hurried work of packing more and more nuts in anywhere they can save them up, only to forget where many of them are and never eat them. It’s how God designed for the planting of some trees. Squirrels, meaning to eat something they forget is even there.

How many things do I frantically plant? What grows from the seeds I plant in haste and worry?

Do you ever see a bird saving food for later?

No. They either toss it down their gullet and swallow it down with rapture, or immediately take it to feed someone else. But saving it for later? Not on the agenda for a bird.

I feed them. Their job is to sing.

I had looked. Now I listened as I kept pushing the swing. What a chorus the birds were raising on this sunny, normal, Bolivia Court morning. I was shocked at how many different birdsongs I go about my day tuning out. They sang incessantly. Each its own tune. And it made me think of a series of Psalms I had been reading:

“I will praise the Lord at all times. I will constantly speak His praises.” – Psalm 34:1

“Oh God, we give glory to you all day long and constantly praise your name.” -Psalm 44:8

“But as for me, I will sing about your power. Each morning I will sing with joy about your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety when I am in distress. O my Strength, to you I sing praises, for you, O God, are my refuge, the God who shows me unfailing love.”

-Psalm 59:16-17

“My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection. This is why I can never stop praising you; I declare your glory all day long.”

-Psalm 71:7-8

“But I will keep on hoping for your help. I will praise you more and more.”

-Psalm 71:14

“I will shout for joy and sing your praises, for you have ransomed me. I will tell about your righteous deeds all day long…”

-Psalm 71:23-24

It reminds me of the birds. He cares for them and they can’t shut up about it. They sing constantly.

Songbirds don’t store up. That’s you, by the way. Another nudge.

I pushed the swing and thought long and hard. Every creature has its design and its job. I was made to sing about Him. I’ve always known that. But no one wants to listen to the grating singing of a squirrel, yelling at you because you’re approaching its precious territory full of its precious treasures. What does calm our souls is birdsong.

I have nothing except what I’ve been given. And what I’ve been given is a voice that calms souls…at least it does when my own soul has been well-tended. Some days, it sounds more like a frantic, protective squirrel screech.

Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store foods in barns, for your Heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to Him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?

(Matt 6:26-27)

I let the swing slow and checked on Benaiah, who looked like he was starting to droop. “High! High! High!” he rubbed his sleepy eyes and demanded. An hour had passed. Turns out the limit of his desire for swinging will remain a mystery to us all. I soaked in the image of his chubby frown, pushed him gently a few more times, and then slipped him onto my shoulder and carried him inside for a nap.

“No buddy,” I smiled into his neck as he groggily protested,

“Sometimes, I know what you need better than you do.”

That evening, Abi asked me to read him a library book about seeds. Lo and behold, we reached the page about acorns and there was a picture of a squirrel. “Some seeds get planted by squirrels, who bury many, many acorns in preparation for winter, and then forget where some of them are buried.”

Oh, the frantic, forgetful squirrel. But songbirds don’t store up for winter. They just go where it’s warm.

At the end of the book, the author talked about how, in time, a seed that gets what it needs will sprout and grow into a tree that bears fruit.

“Did you know God tells us that our hearts are like this soil?” I asked Abi. “He says His word is a seed. A seed that grows into a strong tree and bears lots of fruit. But only in good soil. If the soil is too hard and dry, if people don’t listen and believe God’s word, it doesn’t grow in their hearts. If there’s too much in the soil competing with God’s word, it won’t grow either. He says that people whose hearts are filled with the worries and cares of this life are like that, and those worries choke out God’s word and keep it from growing. But people who listen to it and believe it more than their worries, who pull out those weeds and make room for his word to grow, they end up with a strong tree. We want our hearts to be soft soil that listens to and makes room for his words. That refuse to let what God has to say be choked out and silenced by our worries and our fears.”

Oh Lord,

May it be so in me. Teach me to tend to the soil of my heart. To let your word take root and grow, deeper and stronger, filling me up until there is no room for my fears to take root. Teach me to be vigilant with my garden spade, “I will not be afraid, I will not be afraid, I will not be afraid.” Exchanging each worry weed for another seed of truth that I water and tend and believe and listen to until, like the birds, I can’t shut up about it. Let my worried screech give way to worship – the soothing sound of a secure heart reveling in the certainty that its Caregiver is faithful.

“And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of righteousness.”

-James 3:18

“But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control…You will always harvest what you plant.”

– Galatians 5:22-23, 6:7

“For God loves a person who gives cheerfully. And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.”

– 2 Corinthians 9:7

“We are human but we don’t wage war as humans do. We use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments. We destroy every proud obstacle that keeps people from knowing God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.”

-2 Corinthians 10:4-5

A Quiet Place & Tractors

/ bekaburnsblog / 1 Comment

by Cody


“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be honored by every nation.
    I will be honored throughout the world.”

–Psalm 46:10

—

Right now, I am serving as the mechanic for the Homes of Ethnos 360. That means I work on pretty much anything that moves, and a lot of stuff that doesn’t. A big part of my job is maintaining and repairing the heavy equipment our team uses to maintain the property.

We have an assortment of machines, including a few small tractors, a mini excavator, a skid-steer, and two backhoes. These machines can take quite a beating when they are put to work, and it takes a lot of maintenance to keep them going. If not greased, the pins and bushing start wearing out. Radiators can get clogged, leading to overheating and serious damage. Fluids get low, or dirty, and need to be changed. Plus parts just get worn out or break sometimes.

Why am I talking about tractors?

I think that we are a lot like tractors when it comes to maintaining our spiritual life. We have so much to do and we can run ourselves ragged, forgetting that we were created with souls that need to stop and rest and connect to our source of life and strength. We get so busy, even working FOR God, that we neglect our walk WITH God.

In Luke 5:15-16, it says:
“Yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”

Here we see Jesus choose quiet connection with the Father, even at the cost of ministry. There were crowds of people, but he withdrew.

And in Mark 1:35-39, it says this:
“Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Simon and his companions went to look for him, and when they found him, they exclaimed: “Everyone is looking for you!” Jesus replied, “Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages—so I can preach there also. That is why I have come.” So he traveled throughout Galilee, preaching in their synagogues and driving out demons.“


Here again, people are looking for Jesus, and He is out praying. His dependance on the Father required time with the Father. He was not afraid to disappoint people to spend time with the Father, or to leave to the next place in obedience, even when those people there still wanted more from him.

“One of those days Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God.“
–Luke 6:12


“Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray.”

–Matthew 14:22-23


In all these verses, we see that Jesus made a habit of stopping the work, and finding a quiet place to rest and connect with the Father. If Jesus, the Son of God needed it, then I definitely do!

So why do we find it so hard to make a regular practice of it sometimes?

In my life, when I feel too busy to maintain my heart, it is usually rooted in fear. I’m afraid I won’t have enough time. I’m afraid it won’t get done right if I’m not there doing it. I’m afraid of disappointing someone else. But fear is a harsh taskmaster. Fear does not have your best interest in mind. And God’s Word has a lot to say about fear.


Philippians 4:6-7 – “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”


We are to operate out of peace and confidence, not fear, anxiety and hurry.


Exodus 14:13-14 – “Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”


Psalm 46:10 – “Be still, and know that I am God…”

Isaiah 30:15 – “In repentance and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your strength...”


One of my mentors often says, “It’s not a waste of time to stop and sharpen your tools.” And he is so right. It is faster to stop and sharpen your axe before cutting the next tree than it is to press on to that next tree and beat it down with a dull axe. Our bodies need physical rest, and our souls need quiet refreshment with our Savior. Fear says “I don’t have time to stop.” Faith says “This doesn’t depend on me, God tells me to stop, and I can trust him to carry the work to completion if I take a break.” We have to remember that our most important work, whatever it is, depends on Him, not on us.


In John 15:5, Jesus reminds us:
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”


Psalm 127:1-2 says this:
“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain. In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat—for He grants sleep to a those He loves.”


In our own effort, we strive and fight. But God’s Word reminds us that our efforts are not enough. We must rely on His strength, and we must remember that He is the one accomplishing what He is doing – even what He is doing through us. He is the vine, and I need that connection with Him for life and for fruit.

So when we find ourselves working hard, and feeling the pressure of the task; when we are tempted to push and strain because it all depends on us, we need to pull in to the shop and do a little maintenance on our hearts. We need to rest physically. We need to connect with our Savior and find His peace in our souls. Then, we are ready to get back to work, and we will be in better shape to do the work well.

A Time to Quit Searching: new strength and living water

/ bekaburnsblog / 2 Comments

—

“…your strength will be renewed each day like the morning dew.”

-Psalm 110:3

“He renews my strength…”

-Psalm 23:3

—

How’s this week going? Are you weary? Is there anything sapping your reserves? Have you pushed hard and still lost progress? Have you tried to recover but it’s never enough and the needs keep pushing you further into deficit?

Do you need new strength?

Let me tell you a story where I wound up crying in public by a giant fish tank.

And let me tell you that I wish this type of story was a rarity. There are times I can have a lot of grit, but get to know me well enough, and you will see my tears.

This story begins with a lump in Benaiah’s abdomen that we’ve been dismissing for a while. Surely he’s just a little constipated. Then we were keeping an eye on it with his pediatrician. It’s probably something that’s going to resolve on its own, but it’s been just stubborn and long-lived enough that it turned into another trip for imaging at the Children’s Hospital, because it’s Benaiah. And with Benaiah, my crazy medical story child, our doctor says, “We err on the side of ruling things out early.”

This imaging trip had me carrying a fasting, cranky toddler in his pajamas through several levels of parking garage to hospital registration at 7 am last week. Just another round of medical stuff to rule out and check off and hopefully move on from. We can get through this, I breathed, and smiled at him, willing this day to go smoothly.

But then I learned that for an abdominal ultrasound, the child has to hold still while the technician presses pretty hard on their stomach with the wand in order to get clear imaging. No problem, I’ve held Benaiah still for many, many tests and procedures at this point.

But then I learned the child’s abdominal muscles have to relax for them to get clear imaging. They cannot be fussing or fighting AND they have to hold still WHILE repeated sweeps of the ultrasound wand (coated with a gooey gel they will be freaked out by) presses uncomfortably deep into the area they’re supposed to hold relaxed.

And that is where I started to wonder how I was going to convince Benaiah. The ultrasound tech, manager, child life services, and I worked at it with him for an hour and 45 minutes. We tried water play, bubbles, shows, toys, bribery and distraction to no avail. Then we looked across the room at each other and our eyes registered the reality together: we were not going to get what we came for today. Maybe a different child. Maybe a different age. But Benaiah, at this age, with this imaging modality would have needed sedation to cooperate.

We wrapped up with deep sighs and I walked out of the room with my dignity (mostly) intact. I wandered the many hallways back toward the parking garage, asked a polite doctor for directions to coffee in a dead tone, eventually found a cool, giant fish tank for Benaiah to look at, and plunked into a chair so I could bury my head in my hands and have a private cry before attempting the hour drive home.

It’s not my fault. It’s not his fault. It’s not the doctor or the tech’s fault. It’s just hard. It’s so hard.

Not all by itself, but as another layer on top of everything else. It’s hard to expend the energy and not make headway. It’s hard to circle back for yet another appointment, yet another round of testing. To hold the possibilities that probably he’s okay, but maybe there’s something else we need to address with a child that regularly has a good number of things in both categories.

Benaiah babbled excitedly about the fish and I quietly cried, wiped tears, and cried a little more, trying to collect myself to drive safely. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up.

There was the child life specialist. The very one who had labored alongside me for an hour and 45 minutes to try get a glimpse of what was going on inside Benaiah’s abdomen. She dropped down next to me and spoke softly, “There’s a reason I happened to be walking this way. I’m here. What do you need?”

“Just new strength, I guess,” I sniffed. “I used up what I had for today and it didn’t make a difference. So I need to know there will be more for the next round. I need to remember that I will have what I need for him when he keeps needing more.”

She nodded with understanding.

And in my heart, there was a quiet nudging:

My mercies are new each morning. I renew your strength. On a new morning when you are facing the next round or re-do, your strength will be new for it. But you don’t need to face all that now. You just need to enough to drive home.

The child life specialist hugged me and whispered, “it’s okay that he needs extra help. We have plenty of help to give. It’s there if you ask for it. Just keep asking.”

I took a deep breath and I asked and enough strength came to face the rest of the walk to the parking garage. I buckled my seatbelt, closed my eyes, took another deep breath and asked. Enough strength to navigate to the coffee shop. I breathed easier and laughed at Benaiah wildly scrambling to climb the rails as we waited in line at a breezy outdoor coffee hub and the sunshine warmed my tear-stained skin. Enough strength to handle the interstate. And so on went my day. When I removed what I wasn’t meant to face right then, there was enough strength after all.

When things go differently than expected or I’ve worked so hard and I still need to re-do something, I don’t have to have the strength right then to immediately rally for another go – just the strength to work through the disappointment and pivot. When it’s time to try again, there will be new strength on that day to face it.

There is enough for this next step. But not if I’m carrying the not-right-now things, too.

“[There is] a time to search and a time to quit searching…Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time…He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”

-Ecclesiastes 3:6, 11

My heart was built to know that there’s more to the picture than what I see. The seed is knowing there’s more and yearning for it. The fruit will be stepping into all that is coming. All that He has prepared for us.

Eternity is planted in our hearts, but it is not yet harvest time.

it takes trust to let go of trying to see it all when the pieces I can see don’t seem to piece together. It takes humility to remember that even though I was built to know there’s more to the picture, I am not yet meant to see the whole scope.

Lord, you know all the things I do not and that’s enough.

Many questions I tend to carry. But there’s a time to search and a time to quit searching.

Because no matter how hard and how desperately I search, I will not be able to capture the breadth of all you’re doing. I could never truly get my bearings on how vast your understanding is, on how much of your heart and planning goes into every detail. I could never stretch far enough to even get the sum-up of it, so I could assess whether I agree.

Nor would I, if I searched for all I’m worth, get the measure of the breadth of your love for me, but it would be a far better exercise.

“And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully….”

-Ephesians 3:18-19

“He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding.”

-Isaiah 40:28

Lord,

I DO grow weak and weary. And my understanding leaves much to be desired.

I find myself tired and heavy-hearted and needing you once again.

I need to be encouraged. I need to sense your care for me. I need a light, trusting heart to go into my day with these beautiful boys whose needs I could never be adequate for. Especially after a brutal, sleepless night with a toddler screaming that his legs hurt.

Without you, I can do nothing.

With you, overwhelming victory and peace that passes understanding, and joy in every circumstance: these things belong to me.

Teach me to walk in them, Lord. In your unfailing, sustaining, glory strength, not in my weak, striving strength and darkened understanding.

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.”

-1 Corinthians 13:12

“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we are ourselves are like fragile, clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves…That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.”

-2 Corinthians 4:7, 16

“The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.”

-Lamentations 3:22-23

These are the promises I will cling to.

Great power. New Strength. Fresh Mercy.

Every. Day.

Every day, you, the living fountain, supply all these things anew.

“For you are the fountain of life. The light by which we see.”

-Psalm 36:9

So it is okay that I reach a point where I feel parched and drained and empty and look at what’s before me wondering “How in the world, Lord?”

That’s the right question. And it’s the one you have always answered with, “I will be with you.”

“…Then the Lord turned to him and said, “Go with the strength you have and rescue Israel form the Midianites, I am sending you.”

“But Lord,” Gideon replied, “How can I rescue Israel?”

…The Lord said to Him, “I will be with you and you will destroy the Midianites as if you were fighting against one man.”

-Judges 6:13-16

“This is my command – be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

-Joshua 1:9

“But Moses protested to God, Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?”

God answered, “I will be with you. And this is your sign that I am the one who has sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God at this very mountain.”

-Exodus 3:11-12

“Jesus came and told his disciples, “I have been given all authority in heaven and on earth. Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

-Matthew 28:18-20

There is a time to search and a time to quit searching. When you’re searching for new strength, keep searching. Search diligently and find it. Constantly renew your efforts to press into Him and don’t stop short with the flagging, failing strength of human effort alone.

“Search for the Lord and for his strength; continually seek Him.”

-Psalm 105:4

“Lord, be gracious to us; we long for you. Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of distress”

-Isaiah 33:2

“…We rely on what Christ Jesus has done for us. We put no confidence in human effort.”

-Philippians 3:3

And when you, like me, are running ragged, feeling drained, juggling a thousand needs, thinking through scenarios, numbers, and possible outcomes, yearning for the perfect step to take, and frustrated that your costly effort didn’t produce the headway you expected; When your heart, like mine, is desperately searching for a grasp of what in the world God is doing and feeling frustrated with all the holes in the information you’re trying to piece together, quit searching.

We quickly come to the end of ourselves when we try to prepare for every possibility, or be our own supply for the strength that will be required of us in the steps ahead, or make sense of pain that leaves us with questions that have no simple answers.

We quickly come to the end of ourselves. Let us quickly realize it.

Quit searching and quench your thirst. Drink deeply from the strength that never grows weak or weary. Drink in the love that fills every aching crevice of our hearts and then overflows because you couldn’t possibly pack in anymore but there’s so much more pouring out. Drink in the light that defies our darkness.

Don’t give up. Search for new strength until you stand at the edge of that fountain. Then quit searching and revel in what you’ve found.

“For you are the fountain of life. The light by which we see.”

-Psalm 36:9

“I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this message for the churches. I am both the source of David and the heir to His throne. I am the bright morning star.”

The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” Let anyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who desires drink freely from the water of life.”

-Revelation 22:16-17

Acquainted with Grief: misty paths and solid ground

/ bekaburnsblog / 1 Comment

—

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

–Psalm 34:18

“What would you do if you were braver?”

“What would you choose if you knew everything would be okay?”

These have been my litmus test questions when I’m making an important decision.

Courage and trust are the values I want to live my life by.

Thirty-some days ago, we were camping as the year drew to a close, and we purposed to use the time to connect with each other, to slow down, to take in God’s Word, to get quiet, and to listen. We were surprised at what rose to the surface when we were still. We found that most of our good decisions come not from finding enough answers, but from learning to ask the right questions. And we discovered that for both of our hearts, the answers to

“What would do if you were braver?“

“What would you choose if you knew everything would be okay?”

…had changed.

Not that it’s up to us to lay out where we should go. I’ve assumed incorrectly so, so many times. But if it’s up to us to take action rather than only be acted upon, and we have the privilege to fight for the direction we want, it is worth noting that we really want to care for people.

And we want to care for people in an environment that suits the stillness, reflection, and quiet that most accommodates working through grief.

“A man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.” Was a verse that came up in my heart when, again, this year, I was hit with some things. Again, I went through the cycle of shock, desperate positivity, disconnect, numbness, denial, fury, irritability and I recognized it.

This is grief. I am not new to this anymore. Grief and I are familiar.

And according to Isaiah 53:3, Grief and my Messiah are familiar, too. It’s part of why His heart is so soft and compassionate and patient with me.

And I know now that grief is something that can be moved through, lived through. It has changed me, but there is still beauty and life to be lived, and I will be able to enter into them on the other side of the mist, confusion, pain, and sorrow. Though grief is suffocating, and it can block you from seeing anything else, I know now that it can be moved through, acknowledged, and felt, one step at a time, until it is no longer ALL there is.

Grief will still be there, but there will be more. There will be new life.

In July 2023 I wrote this:

“I looked across the coffee shop at the only artwork on the wall with color. A picture of the mist in the jungle trees. I felt your nudge to go there. Metaphorically. Into the mist. Into the moments when I felt lost. Not just for other people, but for myself.

It represents the heat, the pressure, the moisture, the darkness, and the tangled paths of pain, suffering, and confusion. I am mostly out into the light now. And doing everything I can to not relive who I was in the depths.

… I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW what it means that you chose me out of all the pleading moms, begging you to rescue their babies, and you said yes. AND that you left me broken.

I have both “blessed be your name’s” here.

/Blessed be your name, when the sun’s shining down on me, when the world’s all as it should be, blessed be your name./

AND

/Blessed be your name, when the road’s marked with suffering, when there’s pain in the offering, blessed be your name./

I’ve had both before…but not at the same time.

SUCH blessing and SUCH brokenness.

Which will hold my attention?

Where you have answered or where you have said that your grace is sufficient?

Hope realized or the demand for more endurance?

I don’t speak of the events and experiences I walked through like somebody who lived a story that can be told…but as a clinical report. A timeline. A compounding list of my surprise, struggle, horror and angst.

It’s not enough to make light of it or excuse it and I can’t explain it. But my other hard experiences, in time, have all become good stories where I can see your faithfulness and I have finally, with some of them, come to terms with the rich context that they are for taking people on a journey with me to a truth that we both need.

The jungles hold that. And my soul needs it. To own my own story. To come to terms with what I have survived so that I can stand, firm and grounded and strong, on the other side of what I’ve overcome, instead of flinching, hunched and haunted – spirit broken.

And maybe part of the path to that wholeness, the first step toward those misty trees, is acknowledging that I have a broken spirit.

“The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time.”

–Psalm 34:17-19

Welp. That hit a nerve.

Now I’m weeping in a coffeeshop.

This grief is so darn unpredictable. That a beautiful verse about your nearness and your rescue…unexpectedly hits on how “many troubles” are part of the plan for people who are doing their best to follow you – not a sign that we’re getting something wrong…or that it would let up if we just believed well.

The difficulty is training, not punishment.

Jen Wilkin hit on this concept in her Hebrews study, and it has become such a core truth for me. Such a mercy for me to hold on to. That you have something for me to learn through this. That it’s not happening because I did something wrong.

That it wasn’t wrong to want another baby.

That I didn’t screw everything up.

That it’s not my fault my family had to relocate and my husband had to lay aside flying.

That I couldn’t control what happened to me and that though I did my very best to plan for it…it wasn’t enough, and that was okay. Because you will rescue me.

Each.

Time.

One of our pastors challenged our church this week to steward people well by stewarding the truth well. He explained that valuing and caring for those relationships means letting them see that your life is a mess when it is – because You work in that truth, Lord, to support us, encourage us, care for us, and provide safety for others in knowing it is not just them who’s coming apart at the seams.

Man, do I know what it’s like to come apart. Not just to feel the pinch of something, the underlying hum of anxiety, or to race with all I’m trying to keep up with.

But to watch helplessly as it all unravels. To stare in horror as the unraveling reaches not just my plans, my home, my work, my relationships, but works its way to me. To watch it fall to the floor and go limp and know that I have no idea how to put this back together. We have not just lost a couple rows of stitching here. There is no stitch in time to save it anymore. We are down to heaps of thread that have no connection to each other. They must be entirely re-woven.

And the screams of “Why????”

Why would you let this happen when I’m trying to serve you? Wasn’t there anything good in it worth preserving? What are the people who are still on the field serving you getting right that I am missing? What am I too dense to understand? Where am I not listening to you that you had to tear it all down? Did you not have my attention already?

In your kindness, I have had a few close friends remind me that you entrusted Job with his difficulties, you singled him out from all the earth, because of your pleasure in him. Not because he was especially hard to teach, but because he had an especially rare heart for you.

And so it is with many who love you and walk with you. Their paths are tangled with unraveling, pain, loss, plot twists, shipwrecks, and snakebites.

“So then, since Christ suffered physical pain, you must arm yourselves with the same attitude He had, and be ready to suffer, too…Dear friends, don’t be surprised at the fiery trials you are going through , as if something strange were happening to you. Instead, be very glad – for these trials make you partners with Christ in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory…So if you are suffering in a manner that pleases God, keep on doing what is right, and trust your lives to the God who created you, for He will never fail you.”

–1 Peter 4:1, 12, 19

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

–John 16:33

Oh Lord, Send forth your word and heal me.

Transform me by the renewing of my mind.

Teach me and help me to ruminate on these truths.

Light my way through the mist, as we revisit the dark places, as we press into the pain, as I seek to understand…maybe not what you have allowed, but you. Your heart for me. Your faithful character. The One who will never fail me.

The more I understand of you, the less I have to understand the path we have traversed. Yours was no cake-walk. I can entrust you with mine. I know you understand it.

Psalm 34:18: “He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

Crushed…like grapes. Pressed…like olives. A friend once told me that out of the crushing comes the wine and the oil you use to anoint the wounds of others. But WE are rescued out of the crushing. Lord this is my prayer. Rescue me, whose body was saved, but whose spirit is crushed. I need your work of rescue again, Son of David, have mercy on me. Let me be poor in spirit before you. That I may be blessed by your mercy.

Lead me to the forest, and help me to be brave and patient with the process of sorting through what is painful, of watching things not be in place while you are weaving me and the pieces of my life back together, with frail, delicate thread infused dually with the oil of your strength, and the sweetness of your comfort. A many-faceted, complex garment you are weaving. From a rag to scrub up the messes, to the softest of blankets to wrap around the ones lost in the midst of those messes. From a worker (Martha), to a lover (Mary).”

I prayed this prayer one and a half years ago. And here I am.

My heart is cooperating so well with the medication that I’ve been able to enjoy running. My tumor is out. I can feel my hands and feet again. There are things I am still wading through and waiting for, but I’m no longer huddled in a blanket crying and hoping my life will somehow thread back together again (most days). I feel strong and eager and ready to build something.

I cried out to the Lord and He answered me. Over the last year and a half, He gave me the courage to face down that misty forest. I walked in, and I hiked, and I hiked and I go back often to forage, to understand, and to plant. The forest and I are familiar now.

He is giving me firm footing. Less often do I wrestle with “Will I be abandoned? Will I have what I need?” More often now it is, “Lord, can I wait well for how you WILL take care of me in this? Can I keep YOU in focus instead of the unknowns? If I can do that, I can do this.”

Of course, I still want recognition and attention, but I also recognize the sour aftertaste they carry now. The glory of men. Yeck. It doesn’t satisfy. Oh, how my heart longs to be filled up and satisfied with His gaze, His attention, His love, His approval, of which there is plenty to fill me up and stuff me full so that I approach other people not out of hunger, but overflowing.

And here I am today.

Trying not to be distracted by a random lot of land in North Carolina. Trying to push it down and focus.  But full of desire and ideas for it. For how He might use it.

Cody and I prayed about it and went to take a look. I’m not sure what I expected would happen.

But as we walked across it, from corner to corner, it seemed to me to be a place for souls in pain to heal.

Oh Lord,

I return again and again to the soft blanket idea. Have you brought us out and back again, and through so many things, softening us with each hit that our enemy intended to jade us, and finally bringing us to the edge of our mist, to wrap us around people and be a vessel of your care and gentleness to them as they face their own forest?

As we look to you and depend on you, would you pour into us and into them? Would you be close to us all when our hearts are aching and our spirits are crushed? You are the only Healer who can do the tender work of restoring broken souls.

Amanda Williams, in “Godly Grief” writes:  “I don’t want to experience grief and suffering. I can’t solve them, can’t explain them away – I can only enter in, and honestly, I’d rather not. The only way to get to the other side of the mountains is to walk through them.”

Something has shifted, a little at time, with each pass through my own story, hunting for the markers of your faithfulness.  I no longer want to shrink back from grief and suffering. I want to enter in with people. I want to enter in for myself. I want to walk through to the other side of the mountains, so that we may finally breathe in that view. I am addicted to those, “There it is! We’re going to make it after all!!” moments, where the light warms the edges of that thick mist and we finally push out into the open, and we breathe freely, for we have traversed the fog and it cannot hold us anymore.

Ryan Miller writes:

“Chinese bamboo takes 5 years of being watered every day before it breaks through the ground, but in five months time, it will grow 90 feet in the air. Your breakthrough will look different than you think it will. And your job is not to control when breakthrough happens, your job is to faithfully water every single day and trust the Lord for the breakthrough, even in the wilderness seasons. Because God does his best work in the wilderness. And your goal is to take the manna and to take the quail day by day and to say “Heavenly Father, I trust you for the breakthrough, I’m just going to be faithful.”

Lord,

You are the God who gives the breakthrough. In your time and in your way, Lord, not in mine. You are the God who knows exactly what to expect, and who has laid the groundwork and set in motion the provision for all that is to come. I am surrounded before and behind, bubble-wrapped in your protection and love and not a thing can touch my life or go one centimeter further than you permit. You draw the line and make the waters recede and all the universe must heed your voice. Broken things can be built up again. There is nothing this life can hold that can ruin me. And the hardest things, you like to turn on their heads and redeem for beauty, for healing, for newness, and for strength.

We will carry our sorrows, but you will carry us with understanding of those sorrows and with a solid, leak-proof plan to guard all that we entrust to you, to bless us and give to us and rescue us and make much of yourself through our weaknesses before a watching world.

/This is my story. This is my song. Praising my savior all the day long./

-Fanny Crosby, Blessed Assurance

/I won’t be quiet, my God is alive, How could I keep it inside?/

-Elevation Worship, Praise

Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief.

Mighty God. Wonderful Counselor.

You understand our pain.

And you have held me in mine.

And through fire, you have pressed into my heart some things that must be said.

Some truths that must be wielded as a shield against an enemy who loves to kick us while we’re down by hurling accusations at us and twisting your character. In the times when we most need to collapse, exhausted, banking only on your unfailing love and faithfulness, he loves to whisper suggestions that you might not be so loving, faithful, or interested after all.

Not everyone is in a place to hear it. But for those who are groping in the dark, I must speak.

Don’t listen to that. Listen to Him. Hold on for all you’re worth to His true words. He loves you. He wants you. He’s working in this. We don’t have to understand how. I know you feel lost. This isn’t over. This way, this way, you’re going to make it, press into the mist, keep limping, keep coming, He is worth it, He is worth it, He is worth it.”

For this has been my story.

And this will be my song.

Thank you, Jesus, for you have brought my broken spirit here, to a point where it wants to be poured out.

“Praise the Lord; praise God our savior! For each day He carries us in His arms.”

–Psalm 68:19

“I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,
    and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
    out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground
    and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing,
    a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
    They will put their trust in the Lord.”

–Psalm 40:1-3

““His purpose was for the nations to seek after God and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him—though he is not far from any one of us. For in Him we live and move and exist…”

–Acts 17:27-28

Awestruck: Oh, come let us adore Him

/ bekaburnsblog / 3 Comments

—

“No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ who loved us.”

–Romans 8:37

/And we’re invincible ’cause our power’s not our own,
We’re unstoppable, when we go before His throne,
And though you find us weakened, suffering,
our outcome’s not unknown,
We’re not what we appear. We may fall, but
He’s not overthrown./

–Invincible


So many people went to the throne for me last week as I went into surgery and I am still awestruck and tear-soaked at all the ways Jehovah said “yes!” to me and to you.

I’m still reeling at all the ways He showed off to the surgeon, at the surprise of just how much the Lord preserved and protected through such complex surgery. It went SO much better than expected.

On my neck and ear I now bear a scar. A small line tracing down the most vulnerable part of my body; marking the place where I went under the knife and the Lord had me.

All my days I will proudly wear this mark and it will say to me:

“This is the place where I trusted the Lord and He was merciful, strong, and faithful to me.”

This is the place where Jehovah Jireh impressed the doctors and me and every person who begged Him to help. Where He gave us all a resounding yes.

Final Biopsy results are in and we caught the tumor and got it ALL OUT before any malignant transformation. Every cell benign.

I just have rule-out scans for a few years to make sure there’s no recurrence. And I am doing a happy dance at the peace the Lord gave me to face this down and get it done even with so many unknowns. Over and over in his word, He challenged me not to be afraid. He reminded me that He would have me on the other side of this no matter what happened. And then, (Oh what grace!!!), He preserved what I was ready to lose. I can move my face. I can feel my face. I can still smile. I can talk and sing clearly. And I have no chemo or radiation to schedule. I will never get over it.

Our God is an awesome God. And His goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives. (Psalm 23)

My friends. We may walk through some confusing, earth-shaking, painful, weakness-filled moments together. But we who are in Christ are being built together into the dwelling place of the Spirit whose presence once filled Solomon’s temple and was so overwhelming the priests had to cease their worship. (2 Chronicles 5).  The One whose power raises the dead with a word. (Romans 8:11, John 11:43)

Not a Spirit of fear.

But of power, love, and a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7)

We may fall and shudder and look like we’re losing,

But we are the dwelling place of the Spirit of the Almighty God of Heaven and Earth.

And He is here to show off his strength. His overwhelming victory belongs to US.

Let’s not forget it.

Let’s stand still and look for it.

Let’s behold Him and let our hearts be

Awestruck.

Let’s take some good, long, soul-filling looks at Jesus and do a Happy Christmas dance together as our hearts thrill at the strength and the mercy of our Savior.  

But thanks be to God, He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you…”

–1 Corinthians 15:57-58

Does anyone on your Christmas list need a quiet place to be still for a few minutes?

/ bekaburnsblog / Leave a comment

—

Just a quick plug for my book, One Thing is Needed. It holds 31 days of gentle invitation to fix your eyes on the One who is all you need.

And it’s available on Amazon with 1 or 2-day shipping if you need a last-minute idea. 🙂

Here’s the link: Click here

“I read through your book every month and it feeds my soul.”

-Judy Branch

“Beka’s writing flows and brings nourishment to the soul because of the presence of Scripture. HIGHLY recommend this book.”

-Stacie Elliot

You Light a Lamp for Me: meet the One who produces quiet hearts in dark valleys

/ bekaburnsblog / 3 Comments

—

I’ve made it one year knowing that there is a tumor growing in my body.

The Lord has sure given me grace for this year. And…I carry the awareness that it is there, hiding just beneath my skull, of uncertain nature and uncertain trajectory, surrounded by delicate structures, buried too deep to biopsy, and risky to treat. It has been challenging work to unload that awareness and focus on other things.

This month at my follow-up, one of the Mayo Clinic surgeons offered to operate, so I now have the opportunity to remove it while it’s still small, rather than treat it with radiation down the road. We got the surgery on the schedule and I have a little less than a month to walk through anticipating that. On December 6, the surgeon will begin his work. Mine begins now.

Doing the research and walking through this decision was a struggle. There’s a lot we don’t get answers on until the operation is over, and I’m the type of person that likes to know what to expect.

The fear living in my heart has a really hard time with not knowing the future. It looks at unknowns and says, “I bet this is heading somewhere where you don’t have what you need.” It stresses about what to gather and prepare, but never feels quite secure, even when I’ve prepared all I can. It aches for the things that seem to be going well in other people’s stories.

Fear sings in incessant rounds of “what if” and “if only.”

But peace says, “The most important things are not if’s.”

Oh, what mercy, that peace has broken into the conversation.

I am absolutely floored that, in the wise and careful hands of a God who cares deeply for me, a tumor is actually what dials up the volume so that I will notice a battle where I have been getting slaughtered, and get desperate enough to grab onto the strength I need win.

“You take what the enemy meant for evil and you turn it for good, you turn it for good.”

-Elevation Worship, “See A Victory”

I had some freeze, despair, pull my hair out moments working through both my initial diagnosis and this new round of options and information, but now I think this hard thing, in God’s capable hands, actually gets flipped into the training ground where I learn to take up the fight. Perhaps this is where I finally say,

“ENOUGH! I am done yielding my thoughts and heart to the anxious toil of problem-solving things I can’t control. I will take hold of the peace that is MINE and I will fight for all I’m worth to keep it.”

“You will keep in perfect peace
    all who trust in you,
    all whose thoughts are fixed on you!
Trust in the Lord always,
    for the Lord God is the eternal Rock.”

–Isaiah 26:3-4 NLT

“Peace I leave with you; My [perfect] peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid. [Let My perfect peace calm you in every circumstance and give you courage and strength for every challenge.]”

–John 14:27 AMP

In his discussion of Ephesians 6, MacLaren’s Expositions says this:

“The quiet heart will be able to fling its whole strength into its work. And that is what troubled hearts can never do, for half their energy is taken up in steadying or quieting themselves, or is dissipated in going after a hundred other things.”

My heart is a lot of things: driven, busy, hopeful, productive, vigilant, and determined, but oh, how rarely it is quiet.

And yet that is what the Gospel does. Meeting Jesus, believing who He is, and taking hold of what He has done for you produces a quiet heart. At the beginning, and every time you sit at his feet after.

“Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

–Matthew 11:28 NLT

“And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts…”

–Colossians 3:15 NLT

Oh Lord,

The load is too big for my shoulders. I cannot bear it. I am a mess – a tightly squeezed mess trying to look and feel like I have all of this managed. Cody’s migraines, Benaiah’s brain, my tumor. Too many. Too many problems to respond to and keep track of all at once. Too many emotions. Too many possibilities. So little control.  

And I’m exhausted.

Can you take over? Please flood my heart with your peace and Let. It. Rule.

You are my peace (Eph 2:14). No data or insight or prep will be sufficient. It has to be you. That’s where my security lies.

You don’t miss one detail. You have kept us from missing it when we needed to intervene on things. Help me trust that you’ve had us all along, and you still have us now. You are faithfully leading us step by step. I’m in the dark about what’s coming, but you are not.  You are over the disease that stalks in the darkness (Psalm 91:6, 9). This surgery scares me, but I feel warning about leaving the tumor.

And I trust your leading. I trust your timing. I trust what you allow.

It is okay that the things that are challenging for me are a struggle. I’m learning. Help me to humble my heart and respond to the things you bring to the surface when it’s frustrating and stressful. You love me and you’re working on these things in me. I will keep needing your grace to encourage my heart, your mercy for my failures, and your righteousness to stand on instead of my own.

I agree with you about me. What mercy and grace you choose to give to me, I will receive happily, for I sorely need it. And where you allow it to be challenging, I will agree with you that I am ready, because you have equipped me for it.

In the past 4 years, I’ve watched my husband and both of my little sons rolled away from me and into an OR. These years have held a heavy, unfolding story of brokenness with little reprieve before we duck back under for another round. I feel my weakness and my weariness often. And I long for relief and resolution. When I’m hit hard, I so quickly think of relief as the place I must reach, somehow, someway, if I’m going to survive this.

But pain is where I press into you and find you sufficient.

You are the steady, strong, unfailing supply no matter how long my time in the deep lasts.

You are the place I must reach for, and you are reachable, when relief is not.

It’s when the fight takes us past where we ever thought we’d be walking, past the last of our endurance, when we collapse and still it keeps hurting: that darkness is where we learn that we want relief, but we don’t need it. And that is a powerful secret to uncover.

When you learn that even though you’re uncomfortable, you do have what you need, right here in the dark, you become something to contend with. Because someone who has found their bearings in the deep places is much more difficult to mislead.

If you’re waiting in the dark, too, I want to encourage you with this. I think our Faithful Teacher is in the business of leading us through the valley of the shadow of death in order to build us into sure-footed followers. We are becoming people who don’t fear discomfort or lose their nerve when it gets confusing, because we are learning to trust our Shepherd.

He is shaping us into the kind of people who can face down dire-looking circumstances and trust that He knows the way to lead us to the other side, and that what our enemy intends to ruin us, He will use to build into us.

One more thought. For you, the one who is doing battle in the dark:

“Finally, be strengthened by the Lord and by His vast strength. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can stand against the schemes of the devil.”

–Ephesians 6:10-11 CSB

It has helped me to remember that we don’t take up armor so we can stand against our enemy’s strength. We’re not warned about his strength here; it is so inferior to our Almighty God, there’s no power contest happening. But what we are warned about is the devil’s schemes: his attempts to get us off-center and worried that this vast strength will fail us.

In whatever you are facing, let me be a voice reassuring you that it will not.

So be strengthened by it. When you’re discouraged and stressed and out of steam, be strengthened by the One who will never fail you, by the One who is all you need in the dark.

Because He is light itself.

—

—

“I will praise on the mountain, And I will praise you when the mountain is in my way.

You’re the summit where my feet are, So I will praise You in the valleys all the same.

No less God within the shadows. No less faithful when the night leads me astray.

‘Cause You’re the heaven where my heart is, in the highlands and the heartache all the same.”

–Benjamin William Hastings/Hillsong, “Highlands (Song of Ascent)”

—