“He spoke and raised a stormy wind that stirred up the waves of the sea. Rising up to the sky, sinking down to the depths, their courage melting away in anguish, they reeled and staggered like a drunkard and all their skill was useless.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble and He brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper and the waves of the sea were hushed. They rejoiced when the waves grew quiet. Then He guided them to the harbor they longed for.”
I love, in this passage, that the storm mounted to a point that all the sailors’ hard-earned skill made no difference. All their courage was overwhelmed and melted away. They were left with nothing but a desperate cry for help.
And that is always enough.
Funny, there’s no skill required for desperate cries. There’s no certain way we should wail for help. It’s not the way you and I show up in those moments that matters. It’s the way Jehovah shows up.
Why do I love how intense the storm got in these chaotic verses? Because I relate to those sailors.
Man, I sure do not have a lot of advice to offer for how to get things to go to plan. But I do have some experience with things falling apart, and with surviving. I have a lot of familiarity with the question, “How will this ever be okay?” That question and I know each other pretty well. I have waded through a ton of overwhelm, discouragement, and helpless tears.
I’m not sure how to help you bear up valiantly under what you’re facing, but if you want someone who understands what it’s like to not be able to bear up anymore – I’m your girl. If you want a fellow scared human being, I’m here. If you have collapsed, just know that I’m sorry, and so have I. I have a whole new level of mercy for when
a person
comes
apart.
I don’t know how to help you not let it get there. Some storms are a lot fiercer than I am. Some discouragement is really heavy.
But I might be able to help you remember that this isn’t over.
Maybe we can tenderly limp together to the feet of the One who IS our strength when we are weak and our hope when our courage fails. When we’ve reached that point that it’s all come apart and we have nothing – absolutely no way to turn it around. When our courage melts and we collapse into a humbled, limp cry for rescue, He shows up.
And the storm that fills us with dread, breaks our scales, and pushes us off the edge of what we are equipped to handle? It still hushes when He “shushes” it. It’s still under his control. The sea doesn’t follow our plans, but it’s still obedient to Him.
“The bottom of the Mediterranean was sandy, but the harbors had bedrock. So in that time, if it was too stormy to navigate safely, the ship would send a small boat ahead into the harbor with the anchor and have them drop it. The ship would wait for the storm to pass before entering, but the anchor had gone before them and held them safe until they could enter the place of rest.
In the same way, Christ took our anchor in. Behind the veil. It holds us safe until we enter calm seas and can follow Him.”
Have you been through a storm lately?
Are you in one right now?
Have things ramped up past what you can control?
He has you.
You are anchored to the harbor. You are going to make it to safety. Cry out to Him when your courage melts. Let Him hold you when you’re in pain. Keep waiting on Him. Keep looking for Him.
He will show up for you, and when He does, He will always be a thousand times more impressive than the storm.
“For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling.”
“Whenever the cloud lifted from over the sacred tent, the people of Israel would break camp and follow it. And wherever the cloud settled, the people of Israel would set up camp…Whether the cloud stayed above the Tabernacle for two days, a month, or a year, the people of Israel stayed in camp and did not move on. But as soon as it lifted, they broke camp and moved on. So they camped or traveled at the Lord’s command…”
As my eyes traveled over these words, I felt prompted to pause. I think it was the specific break-down of time. Two days. A month. A year.
Since returning from overseas ministry for medical care and facing hospitalization after hospitalization, and scan after scan for both myself and my son, I have lived my life in those increments. For over two years now, I have not known whether it would be two days, a month, a year, or more. And I have watched for the day we can break camp and move on. I have waited for the day we can leave all this behind us and start to rebuild our lives.
But I love what this passage points out. Even when the Israelites camped in the exact same spot for an entire year, they didn’t camp aimlessly. They camped at the Lord’s command.
The location changed all the time. Sometimes it changed after one day. Sometimes after a week. They found themselves in lots of different camping spots. But the location was not what was most important. What mattered most to the Lord, what He highlights here, is so simple I almost read past it.
It’s that moment when they stepped out of their tent, into the morning air, and they looked over at the tent of meeting to see what the cloud was doing.
If it lifted, they broke camp and followed it. If it stayed, so did they. But the look was what was most important. They acknowledged, with a glance, that the decision wasn’t up to them. It didn’t depend on whether they thought it was a good day to travel or whether they wanted to stay longer at the current campground or whether they were tired of it. Day after day after day, the decision was made based off of only one question. What is the cloud doing today? Where the cloud went, they followed. Where it stayed, they stayed. And they started each morning ready to stay and ready to go.
That heart posture was vastly more important to Jehovah than their physical surroundings, situation, and circumstances. Funny, how easily I can get that reversed.
That peek out of the tent to lay eyes on the cloud is one physical example of what it means to
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding, in all of your ways, acknowledge Him and He will direct your steps.”
-Proverbs 3:5-6
And as I sat with that truth, a deep rest sunk in and settled over my heart. God didn’t need me straining to see what the next day, week, or month held. He didn’t want me trying to predict and pack early or to give up and start construction on something permanent. He just wanted me to step out each morning and look at Him. And then respond to what I saw in that glance. To be ready to follow Him, whether that meant going somewhere or staying put.
And all this time, though my heart yearned to be moving, staying put WAS following Him. He had us here. And it was good to stay right here, where He had us, only because that was the instruction we had for the day, whether or not we understood why.
This month, I learned for the first time that I had developed a deficiency. It was a medical close call. Left unchecked, it leads to irreversible nerve damage, and sometimes a wheelchair. Almost three years after leaving Papua New Guinea, this is the first time it really hit me that as much as I wanted to help, I needed help. And God, in His firm love, held me here until I got all the help that I needed, even while I disagreed with Him. Even while I was willing to just deal with the symptoms and get back to our jobs.
I didn’t see the whole picture.
When He says “…My ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9)
I mean…LITERALLY He is looking and thinking about everything from higher up than I am. And He sees pieces of the picture I have no idea are there. When He says to wait, I can bank on there being a good reason, however frustrating it is to me to keep staring at the same old campground.
He has this. And He has me. And just because He has me stay put, it doesn’t mean that what He has laid on my heart is going untended. He is often working on the very situation I’m so desperate to make a difference in, but in a better and higher way than I could, even if I could be there, hands-on, giving 100%.
Are you anxious? Are you frustrated? Are you tired of waiting? Are you straining to see what’s up ahead?
He has this. He has you.
So trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
For a moment, get quiet and stop trying to figure it all out. Set aside your goals for this situation and hone in on the posture of your heart.
Step out this morning and take a look at Him. And then respond to what you see.
“None of these things could have been foreseen twenty years ago. Our focus was and is on obeying God and responding to His voice…
We need to relax a bit, turn away from the noise…and listen to the voice of God because He has put everything together. He has prepared for us a place of service and ministry and will open the necessary doors, despite the obstacles and the confusion we may experience during the journey. I need to quiet my heart in order to hear God’s direction…
Every step of the way has been set by God, and one step leads to the next. Rarely do we see many steps ahead of us…But like God did for Israel, He prepares us for one step at a time…We never know what we will need, but God does and has made full provision. To reach that place requires a power not equal to but superior to the opposition.”
-A. W. Tozer, “A Cloud by Day, A Fire by Night”, excerpts from pages 17, 22, 28, 30
I sure have; and never more than in these last two years. With all our health issues and plans falling out from under us, it has been a crazy ride. Especially with Benaiah, and all that was going on with his little body. There were people all around the world praying for him, and looking back on it, there are so many answers to prayer. But in the middle of it, we couldn’t see what God was doing. It felt hopeless.
I wanted to give up. It felt so hard to keep asking. We prayed and prayed for Benaiah, but instead of him getting better, the doctors kept finding other things wrong with him. Instead of making progress, each step only held more waiting. What if God’s answer wasn’t the answer we were praying for?
During that time, I was reading through the book of Luke. I came across the parable of the persistent widow.
“Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up.” –Luke 18:1
I really needed that reminder. It gave me the hope to keep asking over and over and over.
Prayer is important and powerful, but sometimes I can forget the incredible gift I’ve been given to boldly approach the Throne of Grace. I’ve been reading in Ephesians recently, and one thing that stood out to me was Paul’s prayers and how he prayed for the believers to experience God’s power.
“I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, 19 and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength 20 he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, 21 far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come.” –Ephesians 1:18-21
That sounds great! But…what is His incomparably great power for us? How does that apply to my life as I walk through each day and face everything that comes? That is a huge topic, but there are two simple ways Paul specifically writes about as he prays for the Ephesians to experience God’s power.
“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.”
His power strengthens our inner being.This allows us to face the hard things of life filled with the presence and peace of Christ rather than the fear that comes so naturally.
“For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” –2 Timothy 1:7
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” –Philippians 4:6-7
The descriptors in these verses are the kinds of things I want to characterize my inner being when going through hard circumstances. Prayer reconnects us to his power, and to the inner peace He provides, when we’ve lost sight of it. Like Peter, who walked on water until he took his eyes off Jesus. When he looked at the wind and the waves, he began to sink. In that moment he cried out to Jesus. It was not an eloquent prayer. It was not the right words. He did not have the strength to stay afloat, but he cried out to Jesus, and was lifted out of the stormy sea. When we pray, it forces us to stop looking at our own powerlessness, and at the circumstances that have us at a loss, and moves our eyes back on to Jesus, the source of our life; our strength; our salvation. In the hardest things we face, his power gives us the strength to trust Him, to experience his peace, and even to keep coming to Him and not give up.
The next way that we experience God’s power is found in Ephesians 3:17-19:
“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”
Paul prays that they will have God’s power, not just to preach the Gospel or do mighty or impressive things; not to change the world; but to grasp God’s love for us. His love is that big and that important. Verse 19 says it “surpassing knowledge.” It is too big for us to know or understand, yet God’s power allows us to begin to grasp it. And when we begin to see and understand it, it allows us to be “filled to the measure of all the fullness of God”(v.19). I don’t know about you, but I’d love for my life and walk with God to be described that way.
These are just two simple, yet vital and practical ways that we, as believers, experience the power of God. His power toward us:
1. Strengthens us in our inner being. 2. Helps us begin to understand the magnitude of his love for us.
While prayer is an important way to reconnect us to God’s power and peace, it is not a magic formula.
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” –Ephesians 3:20-21
Our prayers are powerful because our God is powerful. He is not limited by our prayers or imagination. I am so thankful for that! My challenge for myself—and for you—is this: Keep praying. Keep hoping. And keep being impressed by Him.
It’s officially December. Are you taking in the lights and the music and breathing easy? Are you soothed and energized by all the gatherings and baking and letters and gift lists? Are you soaking up all that comes with Christmas? Does it feel like all is well, all is calm, all is bright?
Or are you feeling the stress?Are you under some pressure? If your answer is yes, I’m right there with you.
Looking back on this year, has it gone to plan for you? Have you faced a plot twist at some point? Have you been bowled over by something you didn’t plan for?
Many of you know that my story has taken a couple weird turns over the last 2 years. Cody and I finished up language study in Papua New Guinea in June of 2021 and everything was in place for us to transition into the flight ministry we had been training so long and hard for. We found out in July that we were expecting our second baby, and THEN the plot twists started rolling in.
I got sicker and sicker until the doctors in Papua New Guinea sent us back to the USA for a higher level medical care to manage the pregnancy. My OB set me up with IV therapy and an ongoing pump for nausea medicine, but then I was in and out of the hospital for abnormal heart rhythms. I delivered the baby safely only to find out two weeks later he had swelling, bleeding, cysts, and missing tissue in his brain. We tried to prepare ourselves for brain surgery and then the Lord answered prayer and the swelling stabilized with just medicine. Then he weaned from medicine and started meeting his milestones!
I thought “Maybe we’re going to be okay after all. Maybe, we’re finally headed back!” but his neuro team wanted to watch him for another 6 months. During that 6 months, Benaiah did fine, but my heart rhythms worsened and we discovered a tumor in my neck. Benaiah was cleared by neuro in October and we got a surgical plan in place with Mayo Clinic for my tumor. Then my surgeon got better imaging and decided it was too dangerous to remove the tumor after all. He cancelled surgery, but reassured me that it will “probably” stay benign. I took a week or two to absorb that, thought I was ready to rally, and then Cody had an abnormal stress test and was referred for imaging of his heart.
Wave after wave after wave. I feel like I am a type A personality being crushed into a type B. You know how people choose life verses? For a while there, mine was Proverbs 20:24:
“The LORD directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?”
For a long time here, my life theme has been: “God’s doing something, but I’m confused.”
After Benaiah was born, I went through a Bible Study on Hebrews by Jen Wilkin with my sisters and there were two ideas she discussed in that study that changed that perspective for me.
The first was the challenge to dwell in the “I don’t know.” Jen Wilkin prefaced the study by explaining the being confused is PART OF the learning process, and if we try to rush to understanding, we miss things. So it was a timely reminder for me to settle in and get comfortable with the tension of what is unresolved and unclear to me – it’s an indicator that God is teaching me something – and it may take time.
The second was a statement that has been so life-giving to me over this past year and a half: “For the believer, trials and difficulty aren’t punishment, they’re training.”
She brought up the simple fact that because our sins are paid for, the challenges we go through here on earth are not God’s punishment. We dwell in the unchanging, unwavering favor and approval of God that was secured for us by Christ’s perfect and satisfactory sacrifice on the cross. So, we don’t have to look at the hardships we’re facing and scratch our heads trying to figure out “What was that for?” We can just buckle up for what the Lord is going to TEACH us through it.
Last month, I spent some time in 1 Peter and I came across these verses:
“When you do good and suffer, if you endure it, this brings favor with God. For you were called to this, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in His steps…when He suffered He did not threaten, but entrusted Himself to the One who judges justly.”
Peter was writing to some stressed out people. He wrote to encourage them to stand firm in the midst of persecution. These guys were feeling the pressure. They were dealing with loss and threat and grief. Their lives were not looking like this beautiful example of God’s favor and blessing and provision. It would be easy to look around and say “Hold on! I’m just trying to do what’s right here, and it’s all falling apart! What am I getting wrong?”
When it comes to that mess and that pain and that confusion, Peter reassures them with these 5 words:
“You were called to this.”
Those words floored me. It was like the Lord took this blurry, confusing, “why try to understand?” section of my life and brought it into focus.
The hard things He allows in my life and yours aren’t just disruptions. They’re a calling.
And He left us an example for how to face hard callings. Again, Verse 20 and 23 say,
“For you were called to this, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in His steps…when He suffered He did not threaten, but entrusted Himself to the One who judges justly.”
How do I face hard callings? I entrust myself to the One who judges justly and I endure it.
You know what trust looks like? It’s quiet. It waits. It offers itself up as a slave and as a sacrifice to the One who will never waste what I offer.
Christ’s example did not have eyes fixed downward, despairing at the difficulty and loss, or behind, trying to make sense of the story, but upward, declaring “Yet I want your will.” And forward, to the joy set before Him.
That’s the only way I will be able to follow his example of entrusting and enduring:
To gaze, that is, to take a long look:
At the joy, not the loss.
At the Father, not the trouble.
At what’s ahead, not at what’s right in front of me, and not at all I still have to trudge through.
To look past the labor pains, to the new baby
Past the hardest leg of the race, to the rest and satisfaction of the finish line,
Past this body, to the new one,
Past the suffering, to the glory that outweighs it.
To be in it and yet look past it.
When I’m losing heart, When I am twisted into knots of grief and confusion; trying to make sense of what God has allowed into my life, what if I surrendered the need to understand? What if I entrusted myself to Him?
What if I looked at the most difficult and painful parts of my story as a calling? A calling where He promises to strengthen me with such endurance that my hope in Him survives it? A calling that Immanuel, God WITH us, has promised to walk WITH me through and that He has marched out in front of me, entrusting and enduring, looking up and looking forward, so that I would know the steps to get through it, too?
“…Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race
You and I did not set the race that is before us right now. We did not choose the course. Believe me, I would have picked a smoother one. But we were called to this.
“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.”
As the pace of life accelerates, may I hold up for just a minute to take a long look at you, in all your perfection, and adore you.
Thank you for your faithfulness to me, your compassion for me, and the example you’ve given me of entrusting yourself to the One who will never fail me. Help me to lay aside the burdens so my hands are free to reach for you and my heart is light to hope in you and my voice is steady to sing your praises. In my suffering, you are working, you are worthy. Lord, help me not to lose sight of that.
“Therefore we do not give up. Even thought our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary, light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. “
It’s been another crazy month of appointments, procedures, and questions. There were truck repairs and medical bills. My surgeon cancelled the tumor resection, my cardiologist is adding a new med and getting another MRI of my heart, Benaiah got ear tubes, and Cody’s getting some testing on his heart as well. It feels like a lot and I’m still absorbing the new information and wrestling with it.
I know a lot of you are probably facing pressures and stresses just like we are, and I wanted to encourage you with this thought: Nobody looks at a 500 lb boulder and thinks, “that’s light.” Boulders are heavy. But if you weigh that boulder next to a Mack truck – the boulder is light because the Mack truck outweighs it.
It’s not that our troubles are no big deal – they are truly heavy and difficult. It’s just that when you put them on the scale across from the weight of the good that’s coming, they are light by comparison. No matter how heavy the situation you’re facing feels, it’s a boulder of burden opposite a giant Mac truck loaded down with so much good it would break the road scale. When all you can see is the boulder, remember that the truck is en route.
This is a really hard lesson to grasp, and my heart is learning it over and over again right now. We are trying to remember for all we’re worth that our God is faithful to us, that He’s not wasting the things that make us weary, and that He is building something so good, even on the days where it feels like nothing is coming together.
He can surely use every struggle, every hardship, every weakness, and every delay. He can fill in our gaps, provide where we lack, and move in ways we cannot even imagine.
Lord,
You are ABLE both to lift me up when it’s fitting – to remove what I am persevering under; AND to give me the power to endure the entire time that it is difficult, long-lasting, unclear, and painful. You know I’m longing for the first thing, but perhaps the second thing is even more impressive. Not just that you can bring me out of this, but that you can enable me to wait without losing hope.
A poem by Amy Carmichael – scribbled down in my journal
“…Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”
This has been a stressful, emotionally exhausting couple of months. The needs, the appointments, the tests, the new problems cropping up, the hum of uncertainty in the back of my brain, the internal pressure to do something! – but the external reality that there’s not a lot I can do to speed anything up or solve it.
I have pushed to the absolute end of my capacity, waiting for answers, resolution, and a plan to manage what’s wrong and move forward with life. I crossed into a doctor’s office and gripped his hand with relief because finally, the waiting was over, but he didn’t have the answers. The threshold of his door wasn’t a finish line, it was just the first step of the next lap of the race.
If ever there was a time to strip off extra weight, it’s now.
Are you there, too? Are your steps growing heavy? Are you trying to rally, but you have even further to go than you thought?
I appreciated, as I read this verse in Hebrews, that it dealt with weight and sin as two distinct concepts. It mentioned “every weight” and then talked about sin in particular. But sin’s not the only thing that weighs us down. Our lives get hit with heavy things that aren’t our fault. Doing a word study on “weight” got me laughing because one of the definitions was “a mass.” I’m still coming to terms with the news that I have a mass in my neck; it’s been a heavy knowledge. Yet…somehow, I can choose to strip off enough weight to run with a light heart. But how? Anyone else out there struggling with how in the world you strip off the weight of something you can’t resolve?
“We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame…”
I loved this verse…until this month. You do it by keeping your eyes on Jesus. But how? HOW do I keep my eyes on Jesus with all this going on? I am not someone who ignores even minor distractions easily, so telling me to tear my eyes away from this felt like an impossible ask. I am not great at laying aside every weight.
When we lived up in Washington State, Cody got me a husky mix puppy for Christmas. True to her breed, she loved nothing more than to run hard and be in the snow, so we put together a make-shift sled and started training her to pull us. When we taught her sled dog commands, I thought we would just need four directions. If I could get her to go, stop, turn left and turn right, that would be enough, right? Wrong.
She’s not a car. She’s a dog. Dogs are not only taking in your directions, they’re taking in their surroundings, and, especially as puppies, they see a lot of things that are more interesting to them than the straight track ahead.
So, there is a special command for when you see they’ve become distracted and you realize they are about to go off track. “On by.” It means, “Leave that alone. Keep going.”
We’re also not cars. We’re people. We’re not just blindly responding to directions. We are also taking in our surroundings. There’s the load on the sled that we were designed to carry, and then there’s the extra workload of plowing through heavy snow off-trail because we’re angling toward a distraction. So Hebrews 12:1 tells us, “On by – Leave that alone. Keep going.”
How does keeping our eyes on Jesus help us do that? He’s the one ahead of us on the trail. We’re running in his tracks. And He finished. So, we can finish. He hit the cross, and he kept on going for the sake of the joy set before Him. He’s the one that proves we can make it past the difficulty, and that what’s waiting for us on the other side is worth it.
You can’t control the wildlife, and the trail we’re on is not tame. So, what’s the best way to not get killed by a moose or a bear you’ve noticed out in the brush? Keep your eyes on the trail and run hard. Don’t turn toward the distraction. Leave it alone and keep going. On by.
“When the Spirit of truth comes, He will guide you into all truth…He will bring me glory by telling you whatever He receives from me.”
Jesus marked out the trail, then He sent his Spirit to run it with us. He is with us every step of the race, coaching us, directing us, and warning us. We stay light-hearted and on track by keeping our eyes on the Champion who finished the race out in front of us and our ears tuned in to the Musher who urges us on from behind.
So what about the things that ARE our fault?
People are all so different and all sorts of different things trip us up. For me, as I considered this verse, I asked: Lord…I’m having a really hard time enduring. I can’t control the external difficulties, and they do affect me. But will you show me where there is something on my part that is tripping me up?
And man, did it hit me like a stack of bricks.
You worry.
Oh. That’s just me trying to prepare.
I’ve already prepared you.
I get why the verse says it so easily trips me up. Worry is the thing I most easily justify. It’s the thing in me that runs absolutely rampant if I give it even the slightest foothold.
If the musher tells the dog to keep going, and the dog tries to run straight, but keeps eye-balling something off to the side, she can get tangled up in the lines. So. Easily.Even obedient steps can lose a lot of their strength to a heart that’s in knots.
If you’re waiting for me to resolve this one for you, I can’t yet. It’s the thing that so easily trips me up. And every time I’ve gained some momentum in the area of saying “no” to worry, the Lord has entrusted me with a harder thing to practice with. So far, I’ve never succeeded at that harder thing on the first try.
I’ll just encourage you with the reminder that He’s patient. And everyone has a thing that so easily trips them up. So, it can be valuable to ask Him what that is for you, keep an eye out for it, and get into the practice of inviting Him to come untangle the lines for you as often as you need Him to, so you can regain your endurance for the run ahead.
“Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1)
Here’s my last thought for you, especially if, like me, you feel weary and frustrated with how the run has gone so far: I didn’t choose the course.
Believe me, if I had, this is not what it would look like. The course I prepared for didn’t have sharp turns or slippery ice, and I could maneuver it without tipping the sled or getting tangled in the lines. The course I prepared for made me look impressive. But that is not the course God set for me.
He set this one. And it is not easy and I am not navigating it smoothly. I don’t look as good as I want to. It is revealing a lot of my weaknesses. In fact, I think for some of this, I have been the pitiful, injured dog that’s riding in the sled while her foot gets a break. There’s just not a whole lot of glory in that. There are easier races. Races where I could have been a front-runner. This one is above my skill level and it does not play to my strengths. But it’s the one He chose for me, and I trust His choice.
So can you.
When we make it to the finish, it will be His skill that got us there. It will be His victory. His trophy. His glory.
But you know what I saw in every single picture of the Iditarod champions, year after year? It wasn’t a lone racer, standing tall, and proudly holding up his trophy. It was a grinning Musher, seated on the podium, hugging his dogs close.
So, when the conditions are harsh and your endurance is flagging, remember who’s running this race with you. He loves you. He’s with you each step of the way. His voice is directing your steps, urging you to keep going, reminding you to keep your eyes on the trail and not to take on extra weight. He’s there to untangle you when you get knotted up. He knows you, He chose this course and He has the skill to navigate you through it. This will not be easy, but it will be worth it. And when you finally pull across that finish line, He’s the kind of champion who pulls you up on the podium with Him to hold you close and share the glory.
“And when Christ, who is your life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in all His glory.”
“I am writing to all who have been called by God the Father, who loves you and keeps you safe in the care of Jesus Christ…Now all glory to God, who is able to keep you from falling away and will bring you with great joy into His glorious presence without a single fault.”
“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.“ –Psalm 59:16
I’ve been digging through the Word of God and trying to flesh out the concept of joy. There’s a lot to it. Sometimes it’s the only word to express the emotional overflow in a hard-won victory, at the fulfillment of a long-awaited hope. It’s the mark of wholeness, celebration, abundance, and total satisfaction.
But sometimes, Scripture ties the concept of joy to danger, grief, and stress. I’m trying to understand this layer of joy because I think it can be a huge help to me in framing our situation.
Especially in the first half of Psalms, I found a lot of verses that combine the themes of joy and refuge in the same sentence. Joy: the elation and relief you feel when, having desperately needed cover, you have found your shelter adequate.
There’s a song I’ve been playing on repeat over this last week or so as I cling to the refuge visual.
/You can be still You can trust Him Even when your world feels busted./
-Jordan Janzen, “You Can Let Go”
My world feels a little busted.
Since Dr. Filart said that an ablation would likely not solve the problem, and he’d like more imaging of my heart. Since the radiologist sent over the report with the words “cerebral white matter disease.” Since I started on an antibiotic to try to clear up a possible pocket of infection in the base of my skull. Since the MRI showed a mass in my neck we didn’t even know was there.
I did pray that whatever was causing my symptoms would show up on imaging. Yeesh.
I’ve mostly responded by calling people and listing the findings. As if rehearsing that list again and again will somehow help it make sense. Or by distraction. Baking show. Survival show. Facebook. Music. Anything to fill the space. The silence. The gnawing awareness that I don’t know what it all means. I don’t want to sit in that awareness. I welcome anything to keep my mind busy instead, even the hum of the CT as I bite my tongue and try not to swallow so they can get a clear picture.
Cody sat me down the other day and told me that I had called my brother, my sister, his sister, and Eva Jeane, but I hadn’t really talked to him. I think…in the same way that I hadn’t really talked to the Lord. I had lightly conversed, I had listened, I had worshipped. But I hadn’t poured out. I was trying to just take in the truth, but a relationship goes both ways. I also have to let out the ache.
Instead, I had tried to satisfy my need to process on the phone, skirting the edges of this uncomfortable emotion, because with Cody and with Jesus…I can’t pretend I’ve got it together and I understand it. It becomes glaringly clear that I’m out of my depth and I’m reaching. Reaching for any sort of way to describe what is happening that puts me back in a position of control over it, instead of victim to it.
I looked at Cody, and hot tears dribbled down my cheeks as I finally gave voice to my dread. What if, instead of growing stronger and stronger, I’m going to have less and less to give to my little boys? What if, after everything Cody’s already given for me, instead of being able to help him, I become an added burden to his load?
Cody gently reminded me that we live with our own little Ebeneezer, and we paused to listen to the happy pitter patter of his feet in the hallway.
“Maybe,” Cody continued, “maybe just like with Benaiah, first God is making it clear that we’re in an impossible situation, THEN He’ll step in and solve it.”
The next day, Cody left me a note on my desk:
“God sees when our beacons are lit, and unlike Rohan, there is no question as to whether He will answer. (Lord of the Rings reference) He will come. He will walk with us through the flames, and He will be – He is – our salvation! Keep your eyes on Him my love.”
Oh Lord,
Grow me from the person who scurries around on the beach of the Red Sea crying that I’m about to die, into the person who stands on the rock, holds up a staff and screams “Stand still and see the salvation of your God!” No Red Sea moment of options closing down and danger closing in is too hard for you. You make a way where there is no way.
“Peace. Be still.” Speak it over me, Lord. Help me yield to the rule of your peace in my heart. (Colossians 3:16)
Tears are just beneath the surface. Not always. Not when I speak clinically. Clinically, it’s a fascinating case. I’m excited to find out what’s next. But as the person who’s living inside the case study, I am frustrated, I’m scared, I’m troubled, I’m weary. I’m emotionally spent.
As we keep finding things, it feels more and more foolish to hope we will be able to return to the life we hoped for.
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.“
You saved Benaiah. He’s okay. We are maybe one scan away from a deep sigh of relief. He needed surgery. He had so many things going on in that fragile baby brain. And yet you healed him, Lord, when all we could do was ask you for help.
You sent phone calls. You put me on people’s hearts and they felt moved to call me and speak strength to me. You see me, El Roi. The state of my heart is on your mind.
You sent your words: Acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3). Strength to strength (Psalm 84:5-7). Promises of your understanding and compassion for me as the waves hit. Promises of your new strength to survive the next wave when I already feel bowled over and spent from the last one.
You gradually marched out the information so that I can absorb it a little at a time. It is not hitting me all at once, but at a pace I can tolerate.
Before I even asked, Dr. Gottschalk had an ENT he really, really trusted and asked me to go to THAT one. The one who just removed a malignant tumor from his friend’s throat. When I scheduled this new patient appointment with Dr. G, and he got the office staff to move it up from February, it was just to deal with my asthma. I can’t get over the perfect timing that it was all in place when this new round of symptoms hit. To have the doctor that walked through Benaiah’s entire journey with us, now set up to take care of me as the appointments multiply and the information floods in. Incredible. I was not prepared, Lord, but you were.
I’m already set up with weekly therapy appointments. I don’t have to wait until it gets too rough and then try to think about adding another appointment to the schedule. It’s in place. I’ve got a space to talk and process and work through both what we’ve already been through and what’s coming.
You have worked on our behalf, you have heard our cries, you have seen our grief, you have promised your strength, you have prepared the way. It is mine to walk in it. But your fingerprints are all over this.
–What do I need?–
I will ask you. Please, Son of David, have mercy on me. With a word, with a touch, with a thought in your mind, all of my problems would be no challenge at all for you to clear away. Creator, you could totally restore me. I believe you. Please heal me.
“Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but that the works of God should be revealed in him.”
May the reason I’m sick be so that You get glory. So that the work of God may be revealed in me. And don’t do it in the shadows. Show your strength in my weakness. Give me victory that could never have come from me. Use my story to overcome arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of you in the minds of people (2 Corinthians 10:5). Through me, teach them who you are, that they may come to love you and trust you.
Please, please, make this mass removable, and may it bring relief when it’s removed. Please no radiation. Please no chemo. But not my will but yours. If you ask me to walk that road, strengthen me with the understanding of the incredible greatness of your power for me, the one who believes you (Ephesians 1:19). The same power that raised Christ from the dead? Sickness doesn’t stand a chance against it. My enemy doesn’t stand a chance against it. You can solve dead. You can surely solve everything short of that.
As I look at my erratic heart rhythms, my weary soul, my damaged mind, and my dwindling strength, Help me still to love you with all that’s left of my heart, my soul, my mind and my strength. What little I have, may I give it all to you.
Show me what you are asking of me. Strengthen me to give it. Move me to love you deeper and to humble myself to receive and receive and receive from your love. Oh how I need it. Ground me in it. Help me to stand.
May that love overflow into waiting rooms and doctor’s offices. Help me to see and minister to the needs around me rather than being absorbed in my own concerns.
Help me to exercise discretion with my thoughts: which ones I pick up and hold onto, which ones I lay aside. Give me the wisdom and self-control to choose to dwell on only that which will serve and strengthen me. Give me the trust and the confidence to let tomorrow’s troubles wait, to refuse to suffer them early.
Help me to count it all joy. Give me your joy, your endurance, your strength, your humility.
Give Cody your peace. Comfort his heart. It is so painful to watch someone you love face scary possibilities and be helpless to fix anything about it. I hate that he’s going through that again. Thank you for this husband you guided me to and gave to me in your grace. He is one in a million. Make me a blessing to him. When I feel afraid that I am a burden he will come to resent, remind me your truth, that I am your gift to him. And give to him, through me, Lord.
Help me to trust you with my whole heart and to relax in your goodness – like I do in a beautiful cabin, snuggling by a fireplace and enjoying the giant windows that look out on a violent storm. When I start running through that daunting list, help me to draw it in my mind: the clouds, the lightning, the rain, the wind, the flood. Then, to draw a window framing it. Because the storm is real, but I am inside. You are my adequate shelter.
Give us the joy and relief that is ours because we rest inside your protection. We can watch the storm ramp up and ramp up and appreciate how solid you are and be fascinated by the contrast of the outer chaos and the inner calm. That it’s an impressive storm, but we are safe in it.
“Taste and see that the Lord is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!”
I am in an ongoing learning process in my battle with worry, fear, and stress. This past two weeks, we had another round of overwhelm.
Cody went in for emergency surgery to deal with a sudden case of appendicitis and my doctor put in some orders for bloodwork and imaging to get a clearer picture of what’s going on with me. One thing she wanted was a brain MRI. I’m still not quite over the last time our family went through getting a brain MRI “just to rule something out.”
And so, these past two weeks have highlighted where I still struggle in this learning process, especially with waiting and with fear. One thing I have noticed in my reading is that God does not just say what NOT to do or think. He directs us in what TO do and think.
As I read through Luke 12 this week, the heading in my Bible caught my attention: “The Cure for Anxiety.”
The cure? Does anxiety have a cure? I have only ever seen management for anxiety in the medical field. Meds and processes and tools to lessen its effects. I’ve never had a patient tell me, “Oh, I used to have anxiety, but it’s cured.”
The title isn’t part of God’s inspired word, it was a section label added later. But after so many passages of Jesus dealing with the incurable: leprosy, years of bleeding, blindness, muteness, deafness, paralysis; I thought it was spot on, to take what he said about anxiety and call it the cure. Because “cure” is what He can do with things that men can only manage.
And so I looked past “Do not worry” and hunted for what Jesus said TO DO. Where is the Siloam pool He directs us to go wash in for this blindness? And He repeated it for me, so I wouldn’t miss it.
He didn’t just say, “Don’t worry.” He said, “Consider.”
Right! I thought. Fix my eyes on Jesus!That’s always the answer.
But no. Not exactly. Not this time. For weariness, He says “Consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls.” (Hebrews 12:3). For endurance, He says “We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith…” (Hebrews 12:2). But for anxiety, Christ himself, who held in his hands the ability to heal our torment, said to look at something else.
“Consider the ravens: They don’t sow or reap; they don’t have a storeroom or a barn; yet God feeds them.” (Luke 12:24)
“Consider how the wildflowers grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these.” (Luke 12:27)
I looked up this word that is translated “Consider” in Greek, and this is what I found:
It is the word katanoēsate (κατανοήσατε) – from kata: “down into,” and noeó: “think/understand/realize.” It means to take note of, consider carefully, make account of, or discern. Properly, “to think from up to down.” To understand fully, to consider closely. The word expresses real comprehending: considering attentively until reaching a clear and definite understanding.
There’s a scene in the animated movie The Lion King, where the wise baboon Rafiki promises Simba he can show him his father, then leads him to a pool and tells him to look into the water. Simba peers over the edge and then lets out a defeated sigh, “That’s not my father, it’s just my reflection.”
“No,” Rafiki grabs his head and points back at the water, “Look harder. He lives in you.”
It’s the best visual I can come up with for what “Consider” means here. “Look harder. Look more closely. Think from up to down until you understand more fully.”
Look harder at the birds and the wildflowers, at these “cures” for my thinking that my Heavenly Father has placed all around me, until I reach real comprehending of what they mean:
Birds don’t store up.
Wildflowers aren’t the result of someone’s carefully tended garden.
And yet look at them, thriving.
Next, Jesus asks two questions:
“Aren’t you worth much more than the birds?” (Luke 12:24)
He says “Don’t worry.” And then He tells me what TO DO instead.
Think this: “Your Father knows that you need these things.” (Luke 12:30)
Do this: Seek His kingdom, give to the poor, and store up inexhaustible treasure in Heaven instead of frantically gathering and trying to hold onto what you can here on Earth. (Luke 12:31-34)
Because why would you store up something that’s going to be GIVEN to you?
This summer, we got to visit Melvin and Brenda, one of the awesome couples who has taught and mentored us over the last several years. I shared with them how it had felt to be so spent and so frightened that I went limp. How disappointed I was that I froze and ended up depending on the faith and the prayers of others; that I despaired for my son, while others kept hoping and asking that God would rescue him.
Melvin told me I was not alone. There have been moments where he has gone limp, and that his rule for seasons like this is to have four good friends. Like the paralyzed man who couldn’t get himself to the feet of Jesus, but let himself be carried, lifted, and lowered by friends who were determined to get him to the place of help, we may face times where we know we need the Lord, but we are so bowled over by what we are going through, that we feel too weak to even carry ourselves to Him.
Melvin said those are the moments to invite four good friends, one for each corner of your mat, to carry you to the feet of Jesus, to intercede for you, to rip open the roof, and to beg Him to help you. And that, when you can walk again, it’s time to grab a corner of the mat and carry someone who can’t.
I think that’s one reason “consider the birds” and “consider the flowers” hit me differently this time. Because I know what it is to know God is right and good and able and that what I need is to fix my eyes on Jesus, and yet to be bowed down by so much pain and fear that I struggle to lift my eyes and meet his gaze.
And in those moments, the One who gently calls me to come to Him and find his rest, points to a simple first step when my eyes are cast down:
Are you so stressed and anxious that it’s hard to see me? Does it feel impossible to fix your gaze on me? Then look around you, at what you CAN see.
Wildflowers. Birds. Common. I’ve put them everywhere so you are never without the reminder.
See them? Good. Now look harder. Consider what they mean.
When you cannot see my face or understand my heart, look at how I care for the small things that are not near as valuable to me or as lasting as you are. This is what it means: I will absolutely care for you.
No matter what it looks like, when you’re going under, look again. Still don’t see your Father? Look harder.
“Then he said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, don’t worry about your life, what you will eat; or about the body, what you will wear. 23 For life is more than food and the body more than clothing. 24 Consider the ravens: They don’t sow or reap; they don’t have a storeroom or a barn; yet God feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than the birds? 25 Can any of you add one moment to his life span[d] by worrying? 26 If then you’re not able to do even a little thing, why worry about the rest?
27 “Consider how the wildflowers grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomonin all his splendor was adorned like one of these.28 If that’s how God clothes the grass, which is in the field today and is thrown into the furnace tomorrow, how much more will he do for you—you of little faith?29 Don’t strive for what you should eat and what you should drink, and don’t be anxious.30 For the Gentile world eagerly seeksall these things, and your Fatherknows that you need them.
31 “But seek his kingdom,and these things will be provided for you.32 Don’t be afraid,little flock,because your Father delightsto give you the kingdom.33 Sellyour possessions and give to the poor.Make money-bagsfor yourselves that won’t grow old, an inexhaustible treasurein heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Years of crafting, editing, tweaking, molding this message that had become so anchoring and life-giving to my own heart in my own hardships, and now it was about to be a book. Surreal.
It’s hard to describe the combination of excitement and ache I felt in that moment. Thrill at the idea of this blessing people, of people loving it and enjoying it and sitting at the feet of their Savior because of it. Dread because I didn’t know what to expect. This is self-publishing after all. Would people only buy it because they wanted to be a help to me, or would it hold its own value? I had poured my heart out across these pages. Would there be crickets?
I breathed a prayer and clicked “Publish.” Then I cracked open my Bible and stared at this verse. “Commit your works to the Lord and your plans will be established.” (Proverbs 16:9)
I looked up “works.” It came from the Hebrew maaseh – activity, labor, practice, vocation, workmanship, actions, achievements, accomplishments, art. Perfect! Labor, workmanship, art – what a cool fleshing out of that word – it sounds a lot like my book, a book I’m committing to the Lord!
I looked up “plans.” It came from the Hebrew machashabah – thoughts, designs, intentions, plans, purposes, plots, schemes. Yes. This resonates with me too! I have purposes, designs and intentions for what I want this book to accomplish that matter a LOT to me!
I looked up “established.” It came from the Hebrew kun – firm, set in order, reliable, carried, appointed, confirmed, made sure, maintained in position. So good. Only the Lord can carry and maintain in position the work I’ve entrusted to Him. I do not have the power to establish it.
Then, for fun, I looked up “commit,” not thinking I would learn a whole lot, because, how much is there really to the verb “commit?” It just means to trust, right?
It had a few translations, but one definition: “to roll away.”
That gave me pause. The establishing of those deep desires for the work that is so precious to me? It depends on rolling it away, into the hands of the One who can make it firm.
That’s not the same as gesturing to a corner of it and asking Him to team-lift with me. This is not sharing the load. This is rolling it completely onto His shoulders, and leaving mine free to take up His yoke. I give Him my work and take up His rest. I labor and craft and pour my heart into something. And then I surrender it – for Him to do whatever He pleases with it.
Why is that tricky? Because it’s a lot of heart work to balance sharing boldly out of your gifting and remembering that if the Lord uses it, it’s not about you.
“The lust to be noticed and appreciated will never be satisfied. It has to be crucified.”
“Even so you, since you are zealous for spiritual gifts, let it be for the edification of the church that you seek to excel.” (1 Corinthians 14:12)
Some of my desire is to glorify God:
“He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
Those are desires I think the Lord delights to establish.
But some of my desire is to receive enough affirmation to combat some deep-seated beliefs I battle: that I am burdensome, not keeping up, and not wanted. And no matter how many beautiful reviews or encouraging comments I receive, they will never be enough. The Lord has given me enough proof in HIS word that those thoughts are not true; He will not establish my desire to supplement it with man’s words.
“The fear of man is a dangerous trap but trusting the Lord means safety” (Proverbs 29:25). Placing my trust back in Him and His word, day in and day out, as often as I feel insecure, is a lot of work. I am often tempted to seek out and settle for the approval of man. And it would not be loving for God to provide fuel for the fire at the altar of that idol.
In His love, He may give me some encouraging glimpses that He’s using my work, that He’s established it. But He will not establish my desire to find security in broken cisterns.They can produce no steadiness in my life.
I glanced at the cover of my book and chuckled at my own mixed-up heart. “One thing is needed, Beka.” And my Savior’s desire for me is that I find it, again and again and again, and let my roots grow down deep into it. That I would be empowered with inner strength, rather than chase and grasp after external reassurance. That I would experience His love and take on His humility so that I am not thrown by being overlooked. That I would receive from Him a steadiness that is not littered or poisoned by fear that I am not loved enough or will not have enough.
“I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.” (Ephesians 3:16-19)
I opened up my journal and wrote this:
Lord…please take this book – my art and labor and design – and spread it far and wide and move people to sit at your feet, to listen to you, to fix their eyes on you, to trust you, to find healing in you, to take courage from you. Use my book to deepen people’s relationship with you. I do not have the connections to get this resource as far as I want it to go. But I’ve written my story and my challenge to believe you faithful into it. So Lord, give it wings. Take it further and use it more powerfully than I could ever imagine. Break it and bless it and feed 5000. Here is my jug of water. Only you can make it wine.
ButYou must increase. I must decrease. Give me the heart to see I have nothing and did nothing that was not given to me. You are faithful to me with your unfailing love, so help me to endure the quiet when there is a void of feedback. Teach me to crucify the lust to be noticed and appreciated. Make my soul’s desire pure to see you increase.You alone.
A few weeks later, upon reading one of the kindest reviews ever, I was thrown. I just did not know how to answer. You’ll laugh at me, but I’m telling the truth: I googled “humble Christian author responses to compliments.” And I came across an article that said this:
“Humility is not a response. It’s a heart attitude.” – Jonathan Malm
Ouch. You can’t google your way to a right response here, Beka. You need your Savior to transform your attitude. And you’ll keep needing Him. And He’ll keep being all you need.
Oh Lord,
A humble heart doesn’t stress about how to respond humbly. It just does, flowing from a humble source – not itself – but YOU. Meek and lowly. The One who calls prideful, weary hearts like mine to come and rest.
Humble my heart, Lord, and give me your rest, please. Master, do as you will with my life, provide what you will. I commit my book, my work, my voice, and my life to you.
God has really used the verses I’ve highlighted in this book to challenge, shape, encourage, and change me. I’ve done my best to take those moments where He squared up my thinking and shored up my confidence, and to put it into words for you.
“I must decrease, He must increase” – John 3:30
May my book push you to His book. It was crafted as an offering to remind my heart and yours of the treasure we have in Christ and the immense value of regularly taking the time to listen to Him.
I hope you enjoy it and can’t wait to hear what you think of it!
dig deep | draw close 