hope

This Far: why you can face the next thing

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

-1 Corinthians 6:17, 19

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

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

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

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

-1 Corinthians 1:25-29

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me finishing was a result of aid.

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

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

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

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

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

-Psalm 120:1

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

-Psalm 116:1-2

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

-Psalm 34:4

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

-Hebrews 4:15-16

Remember.

I sense the nudge in my heart.

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

Oh Lord,

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

26.2 miles. You got me through 26.2 miles.

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

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

“Thus far the Lord has helped us.”

-1 Samuel 7:12

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Psalm 46:1

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

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

-Ephesians 6:10

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

-Psalm 37:7

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

-Exodus 14:13-14

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

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

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

-Psalm 27:13-14

So, eyes up.

Breathe.

Shake out those tense shoulders.

Take courage.

Fix your eyes on Him.

Then run with endurance.

There is great joy up ahead.

—

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

-Hebrews 12:1-2

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

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

Never Useless: laying aside harsh words for hard stories

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“In the years since our lives changed forever…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We can be like that with our stories.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Philippians 2:25-30

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

Does this sound familiar?

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

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

I studied the words used to depict Epaphroditus:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How useless. What a waste.

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

What are yours?

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

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

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

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

-1 Samuel 16:7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-1 Corinthians 15:58

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

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

NOTHING YOU DO FOR THE LORD IS EVER USELESS.

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

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

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

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

-Galatians 6:9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-2 Corinthians 5:16

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

-2 Chronicles 16:9

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

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

Lord,

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

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

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

-Psalm 94:17-19

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

-2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Birdsong: the sound of the secure

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

-Matthew 6: 8, 30

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I was pushing Benaiah on a swing.

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

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

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

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

I quoted verses and I pushed him on the swing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you ever see a bird saving food for later?

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

I feed them. Their job is to sing.

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

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

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

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

-Psalm 59:16-17

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

-Psalm 71:7-8

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

-Psalm 71:14

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

-Psalm 71:23-24

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

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

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

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

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

(Matt 6:26-27)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh Lord,

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

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

-James 3:18

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

– Galatians 5:22-23, 6:7

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

– 2 Corinthians 9:7

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

-2 Corinthians 10:4-5

Awestruck: Oh, come let us adore Him

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—

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

–Romans 8:37

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

–Invincible


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a Spirit of fear.

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

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

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

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

Let’s not forget it.

Let’s stand still and look for it.

Let’s behold Him and let our hearts be

Awestruck.

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

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

–1 Corinthians 15:57-58

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.”

The Cadence of Dependence: squaring up with the Spirit one step at a time

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“If we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
–Galatians 5:25

—

A few weeks ago, I was preparing to cross a busy parking lot with the boys. Benaiah was having a particularly clingy day and wanted to be carried. I was also lugging a purse and diaper bag, and trying to find a free hand to guide Abi. I told him he could either hold onto my pocket or grab a few of my free fingers as we stepped up to the curb. Abi hesitated and looked up at me:

“Mom, would it be okay if I had a new responsibility?”

I raised my eyebrows, “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“Can I cross the street without holding your hand as long as I stay with you?”

I thought about it. “That’s a big responsibility, Abishai. I think you can handle it, but I need to see you be very focused if we’re going to cross safely.”

“I’ll focus,” he looked at me earnestly, so I continued:

“I’m tall enough for the cars to see, but they might not see you, so this is only okay with me if you make sure your feet match my feet. Walk next to me and take a step each time I do, okay?”

He gave me a determined nod and we stepped out. Abi did a great job sticking with me all the way to the truck. As I started strapping Benaiah into his seat, I turned and gave Abi a high five, “Good job! That’s exactly how you keep in step.”

My eyes widened even as the words came out of my mouth. “Keep in step.” Where have I heard that phrase before?

I am a visual person. But I hadn’t really slowed down to consider the imagery we’re given in Galatians 5:25 more closely: “Since we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.”

I looked up the Greek word that is translated into the phrase “keep in step” in Galatians 5:25. It’s “stoikomen,” which comes from “stoikos,” and means “rows.” Properly, it’s used to express the idea of walking in lines or rows, in strict accordance to a particular pace. To keep in step. To walk in cadence.

I used to think of “keep in step” as a general concept meaning, “follow instructions” or “take the same steps, leading to the same places.” But this concept is more than that. It does not just mean “follow behind.” It means to “line up and walk in a row with,” which requires the same timing.

And It wasn’t until I was guiding my little boy through a parking lot with no physical contact to redirect him, that I honed in on the value of “keeping in step.” Of going beyond “follow my instructions” to  “focus on me, watch what I’m doing, and do it at the same time.”

I paused when my eyes landed on the word “cadence” in the definition, because Cody and I had actually just been discussing cadence the day before. Like most beginning runners, we both tend to have a lower cadence (fewer steps per minute) because we over-stride. It feels right, when you’re trying to go fast, to travel as far as you can with each step. But a proper cadence actually accomplishes a more efficient stride with more frequent, shorter steps. When you stretch to take the longest step possible, your feet work against your momentum because they produce backward force when they hit the ground out in front of you. Instead, you want your feet to land directly beneath you, using every ounce of energy to propel you forward.

Cody and I are both working on adjusting our cadence to reduce impact and injury to our feet, legs, and joints. It’s a long, gradual process to change it because correct cadence feels so weird when you’re not used to it. Those quick, short steps use a lot more cardio, but cardio improves as you condition it and increase demand on it. There is more strength to be had from that well. Your heels, feet and joints, on the other hand, will hit a hard limit if they’re taking too much impact. I learned the hard way, so here I am icing and stretching my heels with frozen limes instead of trail-running like I want to be.  

Over-striding not only makes you work harder for the distance you cover, it causes wear and tear. With improper cadence, you don’t get better with more conditioning, you wear out. I think in the same way, walking with the Spirit has to do not only with doing what you know is right, but with listening in and obeying as He instructs you in real time, in the right rhythm, at the right pace. It’s cadence work.

Abi knows how to cross a street and he knew where we were headed that day in the parking lot, but I had good reasons for keeping him right next to me through the process. In the same way, I might have a good idea of what steps to take and which direction I need to go, but man, does the pacing make a difference when walking with the Lord. The more life hits me, the more I realize I don’t have a prayer of taking those steps well unless they are by His power, in His timing.

“Unless the Lord builds a house, the work of the builders is wasted.”

–Psalm 127:1

I can bring a lot of hustle, but if I over-stride, I will wear out. If I reach for more or push faster than the Spirit is leading and equipping me to handle, it causes wear and tear in my soul. And so, I’m aiming for solid conditioning at the right pace, and that often feels awkward.

But just like with running, even if the right cadence feels weird, there is way more strength to be had, because I am depending on the right source. He doesn’t wear out. And when I am weary, I can count on Him to march out the next move and to keep supplying the strength I need step after step after step.

Sometimes, lining up with Him means shorter steps than I expect or want. Sometimes, it means getting still and quiet when I’d prefer to be moving. And sometimes, it means going further when I feel like I have nothing left, trusting that His strength will meet me as I move to obey, rather than trusting how spent I feel. It usually involves tuning into right here, right now, and putting my whole focus on the people He’s placed right in front of me, rather than trying to anticipate the situation twenty strides from now. Can I exercise both the restraint and the endurance to go at the pace He is setting and laying out for me? Yes. With practice.

How about you? What step is right in front of you? Where do you need to press on and keep trusting Him to sustain you? Where are you straining to go further or faster than He’s asking? Do you fight it when He leads you to be still? Do you believe He will be your peace when you need to slow down and your supply when you need to keep going?

Today I am praying, for you and for me, “to be strengthened with power in our inner being through His Spirit” (Ephesians 3:16), that we would not let our hearts be “troubled or fearful” (John 14:27) because we are allowing His peace to rule in us (Colossians 3:15), that as we choose to trust our living God, we would overflow with hope (Romans 15:13), and that we would take this day ahead of us, one step at a time, humbly and vigilantly squaring up with the Spirit, even when it feels awkward and inefficient.

I’m praying that we will lay down what feels best to us and allow the Lord to condition into our lives a cadence of dependence on Him.

“Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.”

–Galatians 5:24-25

“My heart and flesh may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”

–Psalm 73:26

“Even to your old age and gray hairs, I am He, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”

–Isaiah 46:4

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

You Were Called To This: encouragement for when God is doing something…but I’m confused

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—

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.”

–1 Peter 2:20, 23

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

God has set

Before us.”

–Hebrews 12:1

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.”

–1 Peter 4:19

Oh Lord,

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.

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