worry

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

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

The Lord Is Building: the reason for confidence when the way before us is unclear

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—

“Unless the Lord builds a house,
    the work of the builders is wasted.
Unless the Lord protects a city,
    guarding it with sentries will do no good.
It is useless for you to work so hard
    from early morning until late at night,
anxiously working for food to eat;
    for God gives rest to his loved ones.”

–Psalm 127:1-2

—

April 25, 2023

It’s Day Five up at Guthrie Lake, Michigan. My mom and dad come up this early every year to open the cabin for rentals after the long winter. I’m glad we decided to come along this year. It’s been sweet. Peaceful. Also exhausting. Funny that those things can co-exist. That you can be so physically drained and yet find that some of your inner wrestling has settled. I think living a different rhythm for a minute has given some needed space to sit with the changes, to ask questions, to gain clarity and to acknowledge what remains unresolved.

My whole family is sick. I’m now using an inhaler multiple times a day. We’ve had many, many Abi tantrums. Failures, tears, walks in the woods, and grace. Cold weather and aching throats. Fussy baby, another ear infection, rocking by the fire at 2 a.m., and discovering beaver-chewed trees. Another round of searching for houses in the woods on the water. Nothing’s turning up that we can afford. Cody seems like if we found something, he’d want to go for it – to set us up with housing for furloughs – with land we can start paying off and renting out while we’re overseas, maybe even blessing other families with it as we’re able to. I, too, have a growing desire to own a place that confuses me sometimes…but I have a lot of hesitation about the amount of stress it could add to our lives this year as we prepare in so many other ways to return to life and ministry overseas. Especially just coming out of my weakest, shakiest years ever, it’s hard to judge where I am strong enough to face risk and challenge again, and where I will buckle if I push too soon.

Here’s what I keep coming back to:

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the work of the builders is wasted…it is useless for you to work so hard from early morning until late at night, anxiously working…”

–Psalm 127:1-2

God says that the anxious work that robs me of rest is useless. Wasted. What the Lord builds, that’s what stands. How much restlessness have I endured, so concerned about whether dearly-held hopes for my life will come together, instead of standing in confidence that the Lord is building – and that what He is building will stand?

“The Lord will work out his plans for my life – for your faithful love, O Lord, endures forever…”

–Psalm 138:8

“The Lord directs the steps of the godly.
    He delights in every detail of their lives.”

–Psalm 37:23

God is a good communicator. He is the source of peace. He is able to lead and guide me every step of the way. He’s building the details of my small life, and with it, He is also building something so much bigger. I have every reason for confidence.

“For you are my hiding place;
    you protect me from trouble.
    You surround me with songs of victory. 

The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life.
    I will advise you and watch over you.”

–Psalm 32:7-8

Lord,

My whole heart is before you. Not just with thoughts of a settling place for my family when we face transition again, but with all our hopes, all that we’ve worked toward, and all our worries and burdens.

I want to rest content, holding all that I do not yet grasp in surrender. I want to walk bravely, thoughtfully, patiently, and humbly. I want to work with all my might and rest when it’s warranted, even when the need for rest comes unexpectedly.

Lord, quiet my anxious heart. Give us lamplight for the next step. Give us unity and peace if you are granting us a desire that takes risk. Help us to wait on you. Encourage our hearts for the calling of parenting our kids and shepherding them toward you. Fix my gaze on you alone.

My work is in vain unless you carry it out.

So I will not labor anxiously, striving to bring about things that I cannot. Not in my life, not with my kids, not even in my own heart. I must hold in view who does the work.

I will hold out for what you are giving and labor heartily according to the route you are carrying us along, even when it confuses me.

Give us understanding, Lord – that we may use our small strength well – given to the One who can multiply it.

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

Saddle Your Donkey and Go: when you’re deeply troubled, don’t stop short

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“…He said to Gehazi, “Look, the woman from Shunem is coming. Run out to meet her and ask her, ‘Is everything all right with you, your husband, and your child?’”

“Yes,” the woman told Gehazi, “everything is fine.”

But when she came to the man of God at the mountain, she fell to the ground before him and caught hold of his feet. Gehazi began to push her away, but the man of God said, “Leave her alone. She is deeply troubled, but the Lord has not told me what it is.”

–2 Kings 4:25-27

This is the story of a woman who never thought she’d be able to have children. After she used her resources really generously to care for Elisha, God’s prophet, he promised that she’d have a son within a year. She’d given without asking for anything in return and hearing this, she begged Elisha not to get her hopes up. But sure enough, in a year’s time, she was holding the baby boy she hadn’t dared to hope or ask for.

Then the story takes a brutal turn. The boy grows until he’s old enough to head out to the fields with his dad. One morning, while they’re out working, he suddenly starts screaming that his head hurts. Reading this less than a year out from our ordeal with Benaiah’s brain scans, you know at this point, this story had me tense in a whole new way.

The dad sends his kid home to mom, who holds him in her lap. By noon, the baby boy she hadn’t dared to hope or ask for is dead.

I have no idea how I would have reacted. After two days of testing in the hospital, the doctor brought me a pretty scary list of things they’d found on Benaiah’s imaging. Cody had been holding down the fort at home and I’d been handling the baby and his care up until that point, but as soon as that doctor left the room, I got on the phone with Cody.

“It’s time for you to come now. I need you.”

I would have expected the Woman from Shunem to send the servant running for her husband. “Come back from the fields. Come now. I need you. My whole world has just fallen apart. I can’t face this alone.”

Instead, she sent this message:

“Send one of the servants and a donkey so that I can hurry to the man of God and come right back.”

“Why go today?” he asked. “It is neither a new moon festival nor a Sabbath.”

But she said, “It will be all right.”

So she saddled the donkey and said to the servant, “Hurry! Don’t slow down unless I tell you to.”

–2 Kings 4:22-24

The woman didn’t call for her husband. She didn’t call for a doctor. She didn’t run to her mom. She didn’t settle for Elisha’s servant. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine. She waved them off. AKA: You are not the one who can help me and I’m not stopping one single step short of God himself. She high-tailed it straight to the man of God and fell at his feet. Elisha tried to send her back home with his staff and his servant.

“But the boy’s mother said, “As surely as the Lord lives and you yourself live, I won’t go home unless you go with me.” So Elisha returned with her.“

–2 Kings 4:30

And through Elisha, this woman got her son back. Back from the dead. It’s only the second time this has ever happened in all of history. And God did it for the woman who saddled a donkey and ran straight to Him for help. I laughed a little to myself at her laser focus.

Her husband tries to ask what’s going on and her response is “It will be all right.” Nope. You can’t do anything about this. Not you.

Gehazi, the right-hand man of God’s prophet, recognizes her, greets her, tries to check in on her and her family. Her response: “Yes. Everything is fine.” Nope. You can’t do anything about this. Not you.

She gets to the feet of Elisha, the one through whom she can access the words of Jehovah Himself, and she hangs on for dear life.

“Did I ask you for a son, my lord? And didn’t I say, ‘Don’t deceive me and get my hopes up’?”

It reminded me of the time King Hezekiah got a letter threatening the total destruction of Judah. He didn’t write back or hold a press conference or summon his advisors. He hurried to the temple, spread out the letter before the Lord, and begged for help:

“O Lord, God of Israel, you are enthroned between the mighty cherubim! You alone are God of all the kingdoms of the earth. You alone created the heavens and the earth. Bend down, O Lord, and listen! Open your eyes, O Lord, and see! Listen to Sennacherib’s words of defiance against the living God….Now, O Lord our God, rescue us from his power; then all the kingdoms of the earth will know that you alone, O Lord, are God.”

–2 Kings 19:15-19

It reminded me of King Jehoshaphat who, having received word that three nations had formed a vast army and were marching toward Jerusalem that very moment, begged the Lord for guidance, headed to the Temple courtyard and before all his people, prayed for help:

“O Lord, God of our ancestors, you alone are the God who is in heaven. You are ruler of all the kingdoms of the earth. You are powerful and mighty; no one can stand against you!.. O our God, won’t you stop them? We are powerless against this mighty army that is about to attack us. We do not know what to do, but we are looking to you for help.”

-2 Chronicles 20:6, 12

I like this straightforward approach. When you have a God-sized problem, don’t stop short of Him. Hurry to the place where you can hear his words. Ask your questions. Beg for help. Wait and see what He will do, who He will send. But don’t settle for any person, no matter how impressive or well-meaning, on your way to lay a problem before him.

Don’t wrack your brain for a strategy, beg your mighty God to help you. He’s the one with the power to part waters or poison them, weave worlds with his words, shake mountains with his breath, drop food from the sky, draw pools into the desert, bring children back from death. He’s the one that can guard your heart with peace while you wait in the dark and the unresolved places. He’s the one who restores your soul. He’s the one who holds you in your grief and binds up your broken heart. He’s the one who is crafting a home and a story for us that outweighs every hardship, loss, and suffering this world has ever held, and he has cut a pathway for us to enter into it with his own blood.

There is nothing too hard for Him. He is ready and willing to help you. Go to Him. Saddle your donkey and go. He may not give you the thing that you ask for, but He will never fail to help you, and He will never, never ignore you. When your hope is in Him, you will not be disappointed.

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

–Psalm 46:1

You do need people. Let them love you and care for you. Learn from their counsel. But this is the lesson I take from the Shunemite woman and from Hezekiah and from Jehoshaphat: When you’re deeply troubled, seek Him first.

“Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.”

–1 Peter 5:7

“Unless the Lord builds a house,
    the work of the builders is wasted.
Unless the Lord protects a city,
    guarding it with sentries will do no good.
 It is useless for you to work so hard
    from early morning until late at night,
anxiously working for food to eat;
    for God gives rest to his loved ones.”

–Psalm 127:1-3

“Some nations boast of their chariots and horses,
    but we boast in the name of the Lord our God.“

–Psalm 20:7

“Oh, please help us against our enemies,
    for all human help is useless.
With God’s help we will do mighty things,
    for he will trample down our foes.”

–Psalm 60:11-12

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 7 Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.“

–Philippians 4:6-7

The Water Receded: who to call on when there’s nowhere to go

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“…I have planned this in order to display my glory.”

…so the Israelites camped there as they were told.

…As Pharaoh approached, the people of Israel looked up and panicked when they saw the Egyptians overtaking them. They cried out to the Lord, and they said to Moses, “Why did you bring us out here to die in the wilderness? Weren’t there enough graves in Egypt? What have you done to us?”

…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.”

…The cloud settled between the Egyptian and Israelite camps. As darkness fell, the cloud turned to fire, lighting up the night. But the Egyptians and Israelites did not approach each other all night. Then Moses raised his hand over the sea, and the Lord opened up a path through the water with a strong east wind. So the people of Israel walked through the middle of the sea on dry ground, with walls of water on each side!”

–Exodus 14, excerpts

It took me a couple weeks to find the words.

Benaiah’s brain MRI in December showed so much improvement. NONE of the doctors are recommending surgery anymore. The fluid collected around his brain and his arachnoid cysts are almost totally resolved. He has healthy brain developing forward into the spaces where fluid had accumulated. He’s babbling, crawling, standing up, meeting or even exceeding his milestones, and we’re weaning him off his medication.

Lord, I don’t know what to say.

I didn’t dare hope for this, but you have done it. Chief of Medicine, you have stepped in and treated my baby’s brain with delicate healing in your hands.

I was helpless. There was nothing I could do but ask you to have mercy on him. I cried out in terror and unbelief and you stepped in with power and compassion for my little son and his brokenness. You didn’t have to, but you were able, and you leveraged that power for our small story. In all the world and all its damage and hurt, you saw ours and you said ‘yes.’

Lord, may I never get over it. When Benaiah is getting into trouble and constantly moving and bonking his head and wrecking his bike and arguing with me over his homework and driving me nuts, I will praise you and praise you and praise you because I didn’t know if he would ever be able to. Every breath, every roll-over, every grubby smile is an announcement of your mercy to us because he might not have been able to do any of it.

It was his brain – the physical organ that houses who he is – and it was swelling and seeping and bleeding and sustaining damage and he was sleeping constantly and refusing to eat and losing weight. Lord, he was so tiny and fragile and he could have slipped away. Maybe his body would have survived it, but the control center was flooding and the doctor told us to cancel our plans and prepare ourselves because she didn’t know how much help Benaiah was going to need.

But,

“Our help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:2)

“…The Lord is my helper, I will not fear…” (Hebrews 13:6)

All the help Benaiah needed – you were able to give it. You were able to restore where doctors could only labor to install and maintain a drain. You are able to meet needs that I cannot. May I remember. It is okay when my kids need something I cannot give, though I have offered all I have. Because you have offered all you have.

“Since He did not spare even his own son, but gave him up for us all, won’t He also give us everything else?” (Romans 8:32)

I was trying so hard to prepare myself for a ‘no,’ because I know sometimes you say ‘no,’ and you’re allowed to, and I may never get to understand it.

“…His rule is everlasting and His kingdom is eternal. All the people of the earth are nothing compared to him. He does as he pleases among the angels of heaven and among the people of the earth. No one can stop him or say to him, ‘What do you mean by doing these things?’…All his acts are just and true, and he is able to humble the proud.” (Daniel 4:34-35, 37)

I fell short of Abraham. I did not freely offer you my son. I did not even come close to unwavering certainty that you would restore him to me somehow if I gave him up. I had no promise for his future, and I was stared down by the harsh fact that parents everywhere beg for their sick children and walk through the unthinkable. I almost lost sight of all the times parents in your Word begged you for their kids and you said, ‘yes.’

I had nothing to offer or bargain with or to convince you – only a bleak, pleading prayer and a body of people who held on hoping and praying and fasting and coming before you for Benaiah’s sake.

I withered in despair: “So many people have healthy babies. Did I ask for too much? How could God allow this to happen to Benaiah? He has broken my heart!”

Cody’s response was this: “He’s broken your heart? He has saved our son!”

I saw the peril. He saw the rescue. Oh God, thank you for that rescue. I am undone even now every time I consider it – what was at stake, what you have done. Only three times in his career now, Benaiah’s neurologist has seen hydrocephalus stabilize on its own. I couldn’t find a single study that supported a long-term Diamox regimen for this; in children it’s never enough to just give them medicine; it’s a stop-gap to get kids to surgery.

But you.

You reached down and cancelled it.

Twice, your people came up against the water. They held out a staff or stepped into a river, you worked, and the water receded. Now, as I stare at image after image of Benaiah’s brain scans, I see the water receding, pulling back, making a path for steps forward.

From: There’s nowhere to go! Water on one side and an army on the other. Darkness. Panic. Uneasy waiting.

From: There’s nowhere for it to go! Water building, stretching, seeping out of his ventricles, across into his brain tissue, swelling and compressing, and he’s not reabsorbing it fast enough. Darkness. Panic. Uneasy waiting.

To: Suddenly, there is a way that wasn’t there before. From nowhere to go, to receding waters. From terror to relief.

And it wasn’t just Moses, who reminded everyone that God would fight the battle and held out the staff, that got to walk through the water tunnel to safety. All the panicking, freaked out people who demanded to know why they had been brought there to die got to go through, too. Lord, I am so thankful we have accounts of you rescuing scared people. Where would I be if you only answered the bold and the unwavering?

I’m praying that through all of this, you’re building in me that sort of confidence. I think you’re in the business of growing panicky people into grounded disciples who lean in and trust you and look for your rescue even when they don’t understand, because they’ve seen your character on display over and over. But I’m learning to be patient with that process. These are the beginnings, and it’s okay to sound scared when I call for help. What matters most is that I dial the right number.

“We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead. And He did rescue us from mortal danger, and He will rescue us again. We have placed our confidence in Him, and He will continue to rescue us.”

–2 Corinthians 1:8-10

Walk Forward: sleep-deprived confessions and delighting in Jesus

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“No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on…”

–Philippians 3:13-14

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I have always loved sleep. My husband’s relationship with sleep is difficult. He is a light sleeper and often struggles to fall asleep at night. But not me. Sleep and I have a good relationship. I sleep deeply – often within a minute or two of my head hitting the pillow. Sleep is my superpower…unless I have a new baby. 

I have found very few things as stressful as the sleep deprival I went through after the birth of both our boys. There are few things I have begged for with more passion than that the Lord would help my baby to sleep. I have been super invested in sleep training, in sleep diapers, in rice cereal, in nap schedules. And when I have done everything in my power and the baby wakes up anyway because he has an ear infection or he’s teething or he has some other mystery reason I’ll never get to the bottom of, it. is. maddening.

This month, I felt the Lord gently prodding me to dig into why I was SO determined to get the good night’s sleep that seemed ever out of reach. Beneath the determination, there was fear. And so the real question surfaced: Why does being really tired scare me so badly?

Well…it’s because I hate failure. I am wired to plan, to prepare, and to arrange my life with intention. It soothes me to have anticipated a need and adjusted for it ahead of time; to have a contingency plan mapped out and everybody on the same page for what’s next. Good sleep, I realized, is one of the ways I set myself up to avoid failure. When I’m rested, I can take a lot in stride. When I’m exhausted, my anger is so much harder to control. I get irritable, forgetful, and emotional. My threshold for overwhelm drops significantly, and I tend to react, especially in my closest relationships. Poor sleep is a great humbler; it exposes my need for mercy. 

So good sleep had become, to me, the holy grail that would make it possible to get through my day without damaging my relationships, without failure, without regret. For as hard as I tried, as much as I begged the Lord to help me walk with the Spirit, I had not found a way to just nail it after a night of poor sleep. A screw-up was inevitable. And so I grew more desperate. If only the baby would sleep! 

But any time I hear myself say the words “If only…,” I know discontentment is at work in my heart. And whatever I’m wishing I had isn’t actually the solution.

“…be satisfied with what you have. For God has said,

“I will never fail you.
    I will never abandon you.”

So we can say with confidence,

“The Lord is my helper,
    so I will have no fear.
    What can mere people do to me?”


–Hebrews 13:5-6

Be satisfied with what I have. Right now. Even with the amount of sleep I’ve been given. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough. So instead of trying SO hard to get sleep so that I won’t fail and lose my temper when I’m tired and irritable, I started praying that I would grow in how I recover from failure. 

My main goal cannot be to perfectly set myself up so that I never make a mistake. That is just not real life. But maturity gets good at moving forward from mistakes; that is a good goal. As I prayed for this growth with one of my friends, she prayed for me, and she thanked God for his mercy when we fail. 

It occurred to me that we recover well by shifting our focus from our failure to His great mercy. From our badness to His goodness. From our disappointment to excitement about the total covering we’ve been given in His perfect forgiveness. The blood of Christ is a completed shelter, and it has no leaks. 

“…But as it is, He has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

…For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.

…Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.”

–Hebrews 9:26, 10:14, 22

We can confess our sin and at the same time lead our kids and our own hearts to delight in Him because He has made us free. And this, more than a mom who never shows frustration, may be just what their little hearts need, because I’m not the only one who needs to learn how to recover after losing my temper.

Lord, 

I am so thankful that you forgive me each and every time that I fail. Thank you for setting your love on me and for giving your life to pay completely for my sin. Teach me the art of acknowledging my disobedience while I rejoice in your perfect obedience. Let the weight of my focus not be these brief and passing faceplants on my part, but your goodness, your mercy for me, your unfailing love and preference for me, the perfection of your plan that anchors me securely to the end of the race, to your lasting victory, to your once-for-all sacrifice, to the day when I have overcome it all and I am completely like you. 

May my sin ever point me to my Savior so that I do not wither in discouragement, but I overflow with

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Jesus!

You did what I could not. You died in my place. You’ve anchored me to your new life. You’ve already forgiven me completely. Beautiful, understanding Savior. Thank you for looking on me with love and giving me your strength and your mercy to walk forward.”

He Remains Unfailing: Puny Strength, Patient God

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“But God had mercy on me so that Christ Jesus could use me as a prime example of his great patience with even the worst of sinners. Then others will realize that they, too, can believe in Him and receive eternal life.”

–1 Timothy 1:16

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After months of praying and holding our breath, another brain MRI is in the books for Benaiah, and it looks like slowly, very slowly, his ventricles are shrinking. No surgery at this point. It is so, so rare that a case like his can be managed with medication alone. We begged the Lord to intervene and He heard our prayers. I should be dancing for joy. I’m relieved. But it feels like the kind of relief at the end of long, tense movie where the suspense would not let up for a second and you’re exhausted from the adrenaline when it’s over. I feel absolutely drained.

He’s okay. He’s going to be okay. I’m so glad he’s going to be okay. I wonder if I will be.

We talked through some of the challenges we’ve walked through and are currently facing with our mission’s member care team and they pointed out that I use the word “should” a lot. They explained that “should” tends to describe our expectations and that constantly comparing reality to our expectations sets us up to feel guilt, anxiety, and discouragement over things we cannot and do not control. “Yes, that’s about the sum up of it,” I responded. We laughed. I cried.

Man, I am hunting for some new “should’s.”

Dancing for joy? Not so much these days. Begging for joy while I drag myself out of bed after a night of getting up with the baby to make breakfast for a high-strung toddler that will demand to have his eggs cut just a certain way? That’s happening a lot more often. Groping for joy when I feel spent after working like crazy to get ourselves set up to serve overseas only to watch all we’ve worked for get pushed further and further back on the timeline? You bet.

Is it enough, when you don’t feel joy, to bring your request before the source of joy?

Is it enough to ask for new mercies this morning when my heart is tired and teary instead of thankful?

My heart often tells me, “You should be handling this better.” But I think it would be more helpful to tell myself, “You should take this to the Lord.”

“Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust Him, and He will help you.”

–Psalm 37:5

He. Will. Help. You.

I do not have the promise that I will be strong enough. I have the promise that He will help me when my strength fails. When my joy fails. When my endurance fails. When my love fails. When my heart feels drained and I fall short of all the “should’s.” He remains unfailing.

“…For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness!”

–Lamentations 3:22-23

One step at a time, one morning at a time, we are going to get through this. And when we look back, we will not be impressed with how I did what I should have. We will be blown away by how God was faithful and merciful to me when my “should’s” gave out. How He crafted a story full of things I did not expect, and worked through every detail of my disappointments.

I’m still processing through having to step away from ministry in Papua New Guinea for a season, facing one health crisis after another, a car accident, the loss of our trailer, moving from house to house, feeling at a loss with my toddler, and finding myself on my knees for my baby. I want to be over it. With the good news about Benaiah, I want to dust myself off and move on full speed. But there is some brokenness that’s taking time to smooth out.

Here’s what I’m working to remember. People are not necessarily drawn to the Lord because I serve Him so flawlessly and my life is so exemplary and I move through difficulty so gracefully. My faithfulness to Him is not the point or the power of this story. It’s His faithful love to me.

Oh Lord,

Thank you for having mercy on me. May others see in me the evidence of your great kindness and patience, and so be drawn to trust in you. Remind my heart that I am not the hero of my story, you are. When I am disappointed and aching over how I fall short; over my weakness, my issues, my wrestling to believe you, my self-centeredness, pride, impatience, and anxiety – May I remember that you are patient with me.

You are steadily working transformation in my life – the things that are pleasing to you. However it looks right now, as I gaze on you, you will keep changing me. I can have hope. Not because I am performing well, but because I am your work.

“God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For WE ARE God’s masterpiece. He created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”

–Ephesians 2:8-10