Fear

A Quiet Place & Tractors

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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.

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)”

—

This, Too: hidden places and sacred ground

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—

“Oh, the depth of the riches
and the wisdom and the knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments
and untraceable his ways!
For who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counselor?
And who has ever given to God,
that he should be repaid?
For from him and through him
and to him are all things.
To him be the glory forever. Amen.“

–Romans 11:33-36

Journal Entry – September 16, 2024

Lord,

You have restored so much to our family.

And today…I am scared and confused. Cody’s headaches persist, and this week he started waking up with numbness and spasms in his arms. Why, every time we could think about moving forward and hoping again, does a new problem come up? We have answered prayers – you gave the doctor an idea of what might help! And we have new issues in the same week.

I am straining with the hope, because it is heavy to carry both possibilities. To beg you for help and to brace for the chances that on the other side of this new treatment, we’ll still be searching.

If you want us to move forward, you have to fight for us, Lord. We can’t fix this! But you can. And I believe you are ready to help. Friendly to us. Working even now for what’s best.

I’m pleading with you to heal Cody. Restore him so that he can fly again. Or give us a clear sign that you have something different for us and give us the grace and the courage to go after it.

In her book, Pilgrim, Ruth Chou Simons wrote this:

“God is going to do big things in your life,” we often hear. No doubt well meaning, but is it true? Is it big when God allows a believer to wrestle with debilitating chronic illness? Is it big when a godly servant spends his or her life serving in a small one-room church in a rural town? Is it big when a mother turns down a corner-office promotion to teach her children full time from home?…Even small acts of obedience that go unnoticed can be big displays of God’s glory. You see, God is doing big things when redeemed lives, no longer living for themselves, bring Him glory.

…It’s as we do everything with deliberate intent to honor and exalt Him that we become active participants in bringing Him glory.” (pages 239-240)

Dishes. Diapers. Breaking up fights. Disciplining kids. Teaching. Tidying. Tending to tantrums.

Phone calls. Paperwork. Projects. Appointments. Errands. Cooking. Conflicts. Fighting off burnout. Handling people.

Here is the direction and purpose for all of it:

This, too, for your glory, Lord.

It all matters to Him. And not one limitation or obstacle can rob the tasks at hand from the potential to be carried out with great care and intention. From the grounding, true perspective that this IS a big thing because I am carrying it out for someone really important. Because I’m equipped for it by someone of great power. Because He is doing a big work even – and, maybe, most often – in the small, hidden places of yielded hearts that bow and worship Him in this thing, too.

So often, I am reaching for a set of circumstances – a place, a ministry, a need, a team – that represents where I believe I belong. And I’m so frustrated at a situation that is GETTING IN THE WAY.

But THIS is the situation that God entrusted to me for his glory. These things I’m facing right now are his leading, his work, his preparation, his stage, and his intention for me. I don’t have to get there. I’m already here. Right smack in the center of what He is doing in my life.

This part of it is not just something to get through. Not for me and not for you. This part matters. It matters immensely. It has been set up with great care and God intends to show Himself in it. In us, and through us, and to us. So even if it’s massively uncomfortable, I’m asking for the peace to not rush it.

This new thing we’re dealing with in Cody, it scares me to death and confuses me. But I am fighting to press in and decide that I am here for it. To keep getting before the Lord and asking Him to use even us, to use even this, to glorify Himself.

I’m asking Him to humble our hearts until we long for no glory of our own, but with every step we are chasing after His. I’m asking Him to help me set my eyes on things above, knowing that I am moving ever closer to my treasure – caught up in it and doing every small thing with intention drawn from it. (Colossians 3:1-4).

I have no idea what’s next. We’ll obey Him and trust Him when we reach it.

But I know what’s now. And now is for Him, to make much of Him. To not be dismayed, thrown or taken in by the jump scares. He’s got this. He’s got us. He is working out something so good that I couldn’t wrap my mind around it if I tried.

Me. You. Surrendered to Him and transformed by Him. That is the big plan. That is the course. And He is carrying it out. It’s not in danger of not coming to fruition. We will not miss what He is doing.

“Dear friends, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet been revealed. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him because we will see Him as He is.”

–1 John 3:2

For those of us who’ve trusted in Christ, the destination of knowing Him, growing in Him, and being shaped into his likeness, is a sure and certain path charted from before the foundation of the Earth. The pressure is off.

We don’t have to reach some place. This path is about where we are headed, and who we are becoming like. It may take some turns that don’t make sense if I am the reference point. Because it’s not about me and I’m not the one that brings it all together.

It’s about Him. He’s the point. He’s leading the way. And He is going to get us there.

Lately, this verse has been a solid handhold for me on this rock wall where I’m often struggling to find my grip:

“For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever.”

–Romans 11:36

From Him:

Maybe it’s more difficult than you or I ever imagined, but the situation we’re in is from Him. It’s hand-crafted and put together on purpose by a mind we could not possibly fathom, a power so dominant we could never grasp it, and a heart that is entirely for us. If He’s allowed it, He’ll redeem it. When we cry, “how could this ever be okay again?,” it is not the end of the story. This, too, fits into a big plan that’s going to come together in a way that blows us away, no matter how hopeless it looks right now. (Romans 8:18)

Through Him:

You and I have been perfectly equipped to face every single step of this, through Him. So when our stamina fails, may we not lose heart, but throw ourselves onto His perfect, unfailing strength and yield to His power at work in us. Wrenching our eyes, if need be, from the discouragement and weariness we feel and sitting at the feet of the One who promises to fill us, shepherd us, strengthen us, and restore us. Being rooted and built up in Him and believing Him for all we’re worth. (Colossians 2:3-10)

To Him:

Every single bit of it, small or big, terrifying or mundane, a pain or a joy, it can be offered to Him, for his glory. You and I can walk through any hardship with the attitude of “This, too. For you, Lord.” And it transforms a humble, painful path we might frown at with disdain into sacred ground we can walk with honor. We can endure and be uncomfortable and be broken and we can offer it all up to the One who is worthy.

For you have been granted [the privilege] for Christ’s sake, not only to believe and confidently trust in Him, but also to suffer for His sake,

–Philippians 1:29

So I’m asking the Lord to do this work in my heart. That whether there’s some relief up ahead or another steep hill I don’t feel like I have the strength for, He’ll teach me to pause. When my legs are burning, my hands ball up in frustrated fists, and my heart wants to wail “Haven’t I been through enough??”

I’m asking Him to help me see. To help me consider Him lest I grow weary and discouraged in my soul. I’m asking for the grace to look at how He emptied himself and to humble my own heart again and again. I’m asking for the strength on this day to step forward one more time and breathe,

“This too, for your glory.”

Steep Paths: fear, grit, and confidence when the route is harder than expected

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“…In all of your ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”

–Proverbs 3:6

—

I got to go for some trail runs up in North Carolina during a visit to my brother’s house this week. The forest and streams were gorgeous, but let’s talk about the terrain.

“This one should take me about 45 minutes.” I had told Cody. Not. Even. Close.

I was not prepared for those steep, root-filled climbs at a running pace. It was painfully slow-going, and because it took so much effort, you can bet I was double-checking my map to make sure I was still on course. When our progress gets more costly, it often prompts our hearts to confirm that we’re headed the right direction. We don’t want all that climbing to be for nothing.

—-

This year at the Sun n’ Fun Air Expo, we got the awesome opportunity to hear, speak into and pray over the dreams of several young pilots who are hoping to go into missions. One of them sent me an email this month with a question:

Were there any times during the journey where it got tough and you were tempted to give up and quit? How did God help you both stick it out all the way?

It was such a great question and putting together my answer was a journey I thought you might like to come along for. So I’ve decided to share my response with you, too. When things get tough and you, like me, may be tempted to quit or start to get nervous that the difficulty level has ramped up because you’ve gotten off track somewhere, I’m praying this encourages you to take heart.

May we meet our obstacles and difficulties with eyes fixed on the One who lights our path and a determination to run even harder toward the good desires He’s placed on our hearts.

—

Dear Abby,

Yes, looking back we had a few moments in particular where we were really tempted to give up. One was when Cody failed a check flight and had to repeat it in school. The program moved fast and some students were just cruising ahead but Cody had to work super hard on each and every flight, and failing one was such a big hit. Especially after we dropped everything, spent all our savings and moved our whole lives thousands of miles from anyone we knew to go after this. It was this terrifying moment of “What are we doing?? What if we got this wrong??” 

Cody’s flight instructor came over for dinner and encouraged us that there are all sorts of different pilots, and he, for one, had to work hard at it when he was learning. It didn’t come easily, but that taught him how to help other people who found it really challenging. He saw how hard Cody was working and reminded us that a failed flight just means you need more time working on something before you add something new, because you want to be comfortable, proficient and focused, not scattered and struggling to keep up. He also reminded us not to doubt, in a moment of difficulty and confusion, something the Lord made clear when we laid the decision before Him in prayer. He said questioning our decisions over and over would only break our confidence, and it was not something we had entered into lightly or carelessly. God would be faithful to communicate if He was leading us somewhere new, but short of that, obstacles and struggle were not good reasons to waver.

That conversation has been really grounding to us throughout the years. It cemented for us that we don’t want to change our minds because something gets too difficult, but only when God gives us something new to go after. In this race, we want to run toward, not from. We want to follow his leading, not constantly question if He really meant it because the path is harder than we expected.

A few years later, after Cody passed school with flying colors (praise Jesus!!), we traveled to Arizona with our two-week-old baby to interview with Ethnos. 

It was meant to be an intense week of flying and testing because they do rule pilots out who aren’t suited for the fast-paced, complicated flying our locations require, and nobody offers reassurance early, they don’t want to give you false hope. Nervous, but excited, we got started. Then two days in, we all got the flu and Cody was missing flight after flight. He was running fevers and weak and couldn’t get out of bed. Again we felt like…did we get this wrong? Is this a ‘no’?

These interviews only happen once a year and the instructors and chief pilots fly in from all over the world to weigh in on the decision. We were running out of days, soon the week would be up! Again, we prayed about it and put our heads together. We told the Lord that we belong to Him and He’s allowed to say no to this and use us some other way, but we asked if the sickness wasn’t his way of saying no, that He would make it possible for us to still interview somehow.

By the end of the week, Cody recovered, and somehow, for each of these crazy busy guys with all their meetings and responsibilities, it all lined up that they had the flexibility to extend their stay three days. Cody completed his flights and we passed the aviation interview!

During our membership interview for the mission itself, one of our interviewers encouraged us: “Listen guys, this is usually the point where I press in with some even tougher questions. But I just watched you go through that and…I don’t really have any more questions for you. I’ve seen what I need to see.“

That was a crazy moment for me because I felt like such a mess, always having things go wrong and fall apart. But this man had watched us and seen God make a way forward, and his sum-up of things was not focused on the messiness, but the willingness to keep going in spite of it.

Our truck broke down several times that summer as we traveled around the country to try to raise support. We ended up having a really low paycheck that month and had to use the credit card to make repairs and get back home. Then the clutch on our truck went out, one month before we were supposed to head to Arizona to begin flight orientation with Ethnos. I was desperate and so tired and discouraged, so I told the Lord, “if you want us there, YOU fix the truck. I’m not spending one more cent to try to force this to happen. If it’s your plan, you do it.”

Then a local shop (whose owners go to our church) donated their space, paid for all the parts, and one of their mechanics gave his time after hours to help Cody replace the clutch. I was humbled and floored. Transmission work is not a cheap!!!

So. Good attitudes and bad attitudes. Grit and fear, determination and failing courage. We have felt it all and it is such a roller coaster. The Lord keeps showing up and He keeps stretching us to wait on Him just a little longer, even a little longer than last time, and we’ve gotten REALLY uncomfortable, but He hasn’t let us down yet!

On this side of things (and in the middle of another unknown where I’m not sure how things will work out), Cody and I have decided that obstacles and difficulty not only litter the right path, sometimes they are the markers of it. There is usually an easier option on our radar somewhere and it is ours to contend with the decision of whether to grasp for it or to keep holding both roads up to the Lord and asking for his leading, even if it’s hard and painful.

Step by step, I’ve started asking the question, “What would I do if I was braver?” The answer to that is usually a good start on the right choice.

Praying for you, Abby! Thanks for the great question!

-Beka

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will guide you with My eye.”

–Psalm 32:8

“Show me Your ways, O Lord;
Teach me Your paths.
5 Lead me in Your truth and teach me,
For You are the God of my salvation;
On You I wait all the day…

Good and upright is the Lord;
Therefore He teaches sinners in the way.
9 The humble He guides in justice,
And the humble He teaches His way.
10 All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth…”

–Psalm 25:4-5, 8-10

He Will Show Up for You: a gentle word for when your courage is shaken

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“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.”

–Psalm 107:25-30

—

Have you been through a storm lately?

Are you in one right now?

Have things ramped up past what you can control?

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.

And He will guide us to safe harbor.

In her study on Hebrews, Jen Wilkin says this:

“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.”

–Isaiah 30:15

“But as for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation, my God will hear me.“

–Micah 7:7

“Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was great calm.”

–Mark 4:39

Hope to Keep Asking: two simple ways God’s power toward us helps in everyday life

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by Cody Burns

—

Have you ever felt powerless?
 
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.
 
The first is found in Ephesians 3:16-17a:
 
“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.

When You’re Facing a Boulder

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“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. “

–2 Corinthians 4:16-17

—

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

Adequate Shelter: a place of relief when the storm ramps up

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“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.“

–Philippians 4:6

–What have you already 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.” 

-John 9:3

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!”

–Psalm 34:8

“As pressure and stress bear down on me, I find joy in your commands.”

–Psalm 119:143

“Because you are my helper, I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you;
    your strong right hand holds me securely.“

–Psalm 63:7-8

“He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might, He increases strength.”

–Isaiah 40:29

“Do not gloat over me, my enemies!
    For though I fall, I will rise again.
Though I sit in darkness,
    the Lord will be my light.”

–Micah 7:8

Look Harder: a gentle first step when your eyes are cast down

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“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?”

–Luke 12:24

—

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.

He doesn’t just say, “Don’t be afraid.”

He says, “Take courage, I am here.” (Matthew 14:27)

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.

I live with the proof.

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:

  1. “Aren’t you worth much more than the birds?” (Luke 12:24)
  2. “How much more will He do for you?” (Luke 12:28)

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 Solomon in 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 seeks all these things, and your Father knows 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 delights to give you the kingdom. 33 Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Make money-bags for yourselves that won’t grow old, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

–Luke 12:22-34

Here’s a song I wrote about considering the lilies:

God Plants: a prayer for releasing our baskets and our brokenness

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“She saw that he was a special baby and kept him hidden for three months. But when she could no longer hide him, she got a basket made of papyrus reeds and waterproofed it with tar and pitch. She put the baby in the basket and laid it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile River. The baby’s sister then stood at a distance, watching to see what would happen to him.”

–Exodus 2:2-4

—

March 15, 2023

Just going to pour out my heart here.

Today, I walked to the fridge, opened the door, looked at the bottle of Benaiah’s brain medication, and left it sitting there. This is Day #1 of NO DIAMOX for Benaiah. And he is all grins.

Praise Him.

Praise Him.

Praise Him.

Praise Him.

Lord Almighty, Thank you for restoring my little baby.

I was watching “Prince of Egypt” with Abi yesterday and the scene where Moses’ mother lays the baby in the basket and releases it to the Nile – with its waves, the crocodiles, the ships and nets and hazards, and then it finds its way to the calm riverbank with a bathing princess, ready to take him in and return him to his own mother’s arms. It had me breaking inside. THIS. THIS is what I felt with my baby. Releasing him into all these dangers I was helpless to protect him from. Pressed between the soldiers coming after him and the unknowns of pushing him out to sea. CSF shunting on one hand, Endoscopic third ventriculostomy and choroid plexus cauterization on the other, watching and waiting and begging for a med that never works to WORK, please God, WORK! Helplessly releasing my baby to His hands – I’ve done everything I can for him here, you have to protect him now.

I didn’t know what God had for him. But like Moses, I see that he is a special baby. And just as He shielded that little basket and swept it to safety, He held my baby with delicate care and dropped him back into my arms, healthy and whole, despite every odd. Despite hydrocephalus, despite arachnoid cysts, despite congenital malformation of the cerebellum, despite spina bifida, despite strabismus, despite nystagmus, despite weight loss and jaundice and tongue tie and lip tie, despite abnormalities on his abdominal ultrasound, despite birth defects, despite complications in surgery, despite plagiocephaly, ear infections, and fevers, he is okay.

He is okay.

Lord,

The river was turbulent and the dangers were many and the basket was handmade and it was out of my hands and my heart screamed “SAVE HIM,” and you heard my cry. The basket held – watertight – and you swept him into peaceful waters.

Lord. What will his life hold?

And why do I need counseling after a miracle?

Because no mother should have to lay her 17 day old baby in a basket of wires and testing and specialists and hospitals and brain scans. And if she must, the basket and the baby may make it to safety, but she will not be okay.

Past the stage of not okay, I’m trusting that this makes for a strong mama. One that has practiced acknowledging how little control she has and releasing what she holds most precious in the whole world into your capable hands. One that knows she can trust you.

But in the aftermath, I do not feel strong. I feel like someone took a blender to my heart.

I told a few close friends the full story this last week, and I shared about a brutal moment. After all the results had come in at the children’s hospital and I’d called Cody to come – come right now. And I was curled up in a recliner staring and Cody walked in the door, scooped our new baby from his hospital crib and held him and grinned at him and bounced him and sang him a silly song.

Here’s the picture of that moment:

I remember it, because he was being what I so badly wanted to be for Benaiah.

I couldn’t look at my baby – tears would start spilling and it would be too hard to breathe. I wanted in that moment to cuddle him close and reassure him and tell him everything would be all right, but the world had just spun out of my control and I couldn’t make it okay for him and I was afraid that if I picked him up and took a good long look at him, I would scream. I was afraid I would give into the utterly devastated wail of my soul and it would frighten my baby instead of soothing him.

I once asked Cody, “How? How did you just swoop in and find that silly place and love him so well in that moment right after that news broke over us?”

Cody’s eyes misted over, “Beka…I didn’t know how much time we had left with him. I wanted to cherish him every moment of it.”

This last week, a close friend of mine was sharing some scary possibilities she’s facing for her baby – he has some persistent symptoms she’s afraid to get checked out. She told me, “I can’t do it! I can’t test him because I can’t face it if it’s bad news. I. will. die.”

“Yes,” I said, “A part of you will die. And then you call me.”

Because that part of me has died, too. When you push what you hold most precious out into the water in a handmade basket and it drifts away from the reach of your fingers, you will not be okay. That moment will wreck you and a piece of you will die. Surrender is a death. And in this life, our God will ask us for surrender.

But Lord, you are the resurrection and the life.

So, I bring that death to you. That churned up, bleeding heart. The fear and the heartache and the despair I felt. The layers of being so sick for so long and finally the nausea is over but I’m facing uncertainties with my heart arrhythmia and tons of tests are slotted for me and I just found out I have a dilated heart ventricle and I don’t know what that means for my future and I’m trying to heal post-partum and coughing all night long in the recliner at the children’s hospital because I’m also fighting the flu and trying to nurse and it’s not working and there’s a thousand wires coming from my baby’s head and his eyes won’t stop tremoring.

The moment the resident walked in and started listing things they’d found that they were hoping they’d rule out – after I’d been trying to convince myself all night long that what I saw on that scan could somehow be a variation of normal. I give you these moments that wrecked me, Lord, that are painful for me to revisit. That visit me unprompted.

I have never felt so helpless, so afraid, or so much dread as I have this year.

Heal me, Oh Lord, and I shall be healed. (Jeremiah 17:14)

Surrender is a death. But when I went limp, you held me. And when my baby swept out of my reach, you had him. And what you have allowed to break and die in me was not serving me. It was a pressure to strive for control that suffocated my spirit. What you plant in its place will breathe life and trust.

“The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.”

–Romans 8:11

Every place in me that you’ve allowed brokenness to touch holds the promise of resurrection. You give and take away. And what you give is more than what you take away.

Oh Lord,

Teach me to leave time in our schedule for all that is happening underneath the surface in our family as we recover. Lord, give me patience for the time it takes to feel better and the process it is to work through things. Teach me to hold space for soul rest, and the labor it takes to enter into it.

I don’t want to be afraid of the things I am afraid of. I don’t want to be twisted up over the things you have allowed. All your ways are just and true. You are trustworthy. Start to smooth the knots in me, Lord.

I read today in Hosea that “Jezreel” means “God plants.” The very place of Israel’s downfall – the name that meant their doom, also prophesied restoration. Our God is a restorer – and we have his promise that what He gives and what He grows will outweigh the suffering that once overshadowed this place. If my heart is thoroughly churned up – may it be as fresh tilled soil: ready for the planting. Plant your truth deep and bring forth life, Lord. My prayer for this grief is “Jezreel” – God plants.

And to you who are reading this with tight throats and hearts in shreds, my prayer for your grief is “Jezreel” – God plants.

“And the Lord said, “Name the child Jezreel, for I am about to punish King Jehu’s dynasty to avenge the murders he committed at Jezreel. In fact, I will bring an end to Israel’s independence. I will break its military power in the Jezreel Valley…Yet the time will come when Israel’s people will be like the sands of the seashore – too many to count! Then, at the place where they were told, “You are not my people,” it will be said, “You are children of the living God.” Then the people of Judah and Israel will unite together. They will choose one leader for themselves, and they will return from exile together. What a day that will be – the day of Jezreel – when God will again plant his people in his land.”

–Hosea 1:4-5, 10-11