My Story

...to grant those who mourn in Zion, giving them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting.  So they will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.  Isaiah 61:3

Over the years, I have shared my story countless times.   Sometimes calling it a testimony, sometimes just having coffee w/ a friend and sharing about my childhood.  Each time it takes on a new flavor as I select which details to exclude, tailoring it for my audience.  Here, I hope to include them all.  I want my story not to glorify the sin and poor choices in my life, not to glorify the suffering, the broken, the ugly, not to glorify anything I have done; rather, I want my story to glorify the One who has redeemed me and all things hard, ugly, broken.  I’m reminded that God is more concerned about who I am becoming than with who I was or what I am doing or what I have done.

Like many Hoosiers, I grew up in a small town and was a farm girl.  Our family is very tight-knit, and I’m a bit of a black sheep for moving one hundred miles away (considering that my siblings are within a ten-mile radius of my parents, you can understand why).  Our church family seemed to overflow into all areas of life: my teachers, coaches, family friends all constituted our church family and ultimately our small-town community.  I felt very safe, loved, and supported as a child.  My earliest memories are full of family vacations, gatherings at my grandparents’ pond, and lots and lots of love and laughter.

Other than normal childhood selfishness and mischievousness, the first time I recall darkness entering my life was at the age of nine.  Our large extended family spent lots of time together, always a favorite childhood memory.  But this time would be different.  This time darkness would creep in and take hold of innocence and begin to leave a bleakness that would mark two decades of struggle.  This time a relative would expose me to pornography and sexual abuse that would follow over the course of the next couple of years.  This time would create in an innocent child confusion, curiosity, and above all, shame. 

This blackness would end up where most of my blackness ended up: shoved, stuffed deep into a corner of my heart and mind, never to be spoken, never to be shared, but allowed to fester and poison a soul.  With it deeply stuffed away, I was able to profess my faith that summer and be baptized and then go about life as a “good Christian girl” over the next decade.  I was an All-American hometown sweetheart, participating in every club imaginable, competing in sports year-round, and serving others out of the “goodness” of my heart.  I even visited residents at nursing homes and led a Bible study for girls five years my junior because I was simply that “good.”   All the while, that blackness still poisoning me with desires and shame.

Desires that I sometimes acted on by accessing pornography on my own or acting out in dating relationships.  Followed always by deep, deep shame.  Followed always by repentance and sorrow and a resolve to do better.

And so college came and went much the same.  A good Christian girl at a good Christian school working at a good Christian camp in the summers: a life devoted to ministry and rule-following and good works. 

And then I graduated. And much of the same.  The long ago stuffed-blackness reared its head, carnal desires waged war, and shame condemned me.  The vicious, never-ending cycle was leading me down a path of destruction.  I hated who I was, and most of all I feared missing what the Lord had for me because of this darkness.

About this time, I had that same conversation with a friend in my small group at church.  How above all, I feared missing God’s plans for my life.  And we both walked away from the conversation knowing something spiritual had just linked our hearts, and within three months we were engaged, married six months later.  And that man.  That man has helped me to unstuff the blackness. To forgive a relative who wronged me.  To ask God to free me from this prison of self-condemnation and hurt and shame.  To find freedom in Christ.  Because though I had professed my belief at the age of nine, I had not lived freely according to the life I had been given.  I had still lived chained to my hurt, to my desires, to my shame.  And with the help of a godly man, I realized the power given to me in Christ to be freed from those things.

So a few years into marriage that wonderful man and I found out we were going to have a baby.  We were ecstatic as this fit into our plan and timeline.  But I soon had some spotting and we were concerned about the well-being of the baby.  An ultrasound revealed he was fine, but after my 16-week appointment, “fine” was no longer part of my vocabulary.  Replaced by “fear,” all I could do was fear what might be wrong with him.  We were told that based on the results of a prenatal test, I was at an increased risk for having a child with Down syndrome.  This seemed highly unlikely as I was only twenty-six and this was our first pregnancy.  (Besides, didn’t only women advanced in maternal age have children with Down syndrome?)  But in-depth ultrasounds increased my risk even more so that we were left with a one in seven chance.  I cried a lot.  And at times I thought a miscarriage would be a blessing.  So much fear of the unknown.  So much fear.  Still, I convinced myself it was unlikely.

Then birth happened five weeks too soon, the baby came breach, and no one was ready to diagnose Down syndrome upon his appearance at birth.  Still we wondered.  A prolonged stay at the hospital with some need of oxygen and lamps before heading home where we first started to note some facial characteristics of Down syndrome.  Eleven days old, and at his first doctor’s appointment a new blackness came crashing in to my elated new-mother’s heart.  My perfect baby had Down syndrome.

And days turned into weeks turned into months of mourning. Grieving the child I thought I’d had…daddy’s little football star, a big strong man.  Suddenly all I could see was everything my child was not.  I couldn’t see that he would bring us joy unspeakable.  That we would love him so much our hearts risked bursting.  That there would be no words for the way he touches us so deeply, daily.  All I could see was lack.  Lack of all the dreams I had dreamed.  Yet through it, I didn’t question God, or whether God was good, or even why.  I simply wondered, “how.”  How was I supposed to do this?  How would I raise a child with special needs?  How would he be treated in life?  How would he get through school?  How would he be received beyond school, in the working world?  How long would he be given life on earth?  How long would he want to live with us?  How would this affect subsequent pregnancies?  How would this affect future siblings?  How long before he would walk and talk and feed himself?  And on and on.

Who are you, O man, who answers back to God?  The thing molded will not say to the molder, "Why did you make me like this," will it?  Or does not the potter have the right over the clay to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use?  What if God, although willing to demonstrate His wrath and to make His power known, endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction?  And He did so to make known the riches of His glory upon vessels of mercy, which he prepared beforehand for glory, even us, whom He also called . . .  Romans 9:-20-24

And while the blackness sought to bring me back into that place of confusion and shame, God was so good and refused to let me go there.  He pulled me close and was kind in my time of hurt.  Friends and family were supportive, and slowly doors opened to new friendships with mommas in the same position, mommas who could relate and love me in the broken.

And slowly, the broken turned into the beautiful, the lack turned into plenty, the curse turned into the gift. 

But I’m stubborn.  A bit of a mule.  And I learn slowly.  Very slowly.  And instead of recognizing God’s hand and guidance in my life, I’m determined to make my own course, so what began as a hobby and tinkering with some yarn for friends turned into a full-blown business.  In the midst of having three babies in three years I decided that running an at-home business through an Etsy shop was a GREAT use of my time, energy and mental resources.  (Did I mention I’m stubborn?)   Little did I realize that a gift of creativity would soon become the next area of blackness in my life, consuming my pride and energy, and turning me into a grouchy, irritable, tired person.  No free time to play with kids, meet with friends, or minister.  I was simply getting by and looking for the next free minute to crochet.  But in January 2013, our pastor started a sermon series on Acts, and when he read Acts 1:8, the Word took hold of me. 

"but you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in all Judea and Samaria, and even the remotest part of the earth."

I cannot recall a single word of that sermon that day, but THE Word worked mightily in my heart that moment and told me that my life was supposed be different.  Different than those around me.  That those around me would know no different and certainly not know Him as a result of interacting with me.  That I needed to pursue relationships with the women in my neighborhood.  My business was an idol that had to be crushed.  So I closed up shop two weeks later, and that began a period of spiritual growth that leads me to now.  

These two years have been marked with highs and lows, feast and famine.  But there is always a constant.  See, God is never the one who moves.  MY heart is prone to wander.  In moments of famine, I have but to whisper, “Jesus.”  And that is sometimes all the prayer I can muster.  But always, always my savior is near, always he is kind, always he is patient.

Friends, my prayer would be that we all learn that.  That no matter what blackness, brokenness, ugly we've experienced or are experiencing in our lives that we can trust our savior is near.  And he is always good.

Suffering

I'm doing hard work today.  Important work.  Urgent work, really.  Which of course is why I'm writing a blog post instead of tending to the work.  But sometimes an initial stream-of-consciousness-processing is what it takes to make the work flow.  Since this past summer when a close friend was diagnosed with breast cancer, God has impressed on my heart to draw nearer and lean into an understanding of godly suffering.  What does that look like?  How do we as believers suffer in a way that points a skeptical, jaded world to Him?  How do we accept hardship, grow from it, even possibly worship in the midst of it?  I didn't want to be the one to show up after my friend's mastectomy and give her the trite, "God won't give us more than we can handle."  I wanted to know deeply in my soul and bones that God was good, and I wanted to be able to rely on what I knew of Him to provide me with the responses needed while walking through suffering.

Not coincidentally, I started reading Tim Keller's Walking with God Through Pain and Suffering shortly before Bear's week-long hospital stay and stint with pneumonia.  I found that I relished the blessings of that week: a Christian doctor who prayed with us, countless family and friends showing up and being the body of Christ, a mom and mother-in-law who swarmed in and took over for my girls, a clear echo cardiogram, meals provided upon our return home, cards, emails, and text messages that touched my heart deeply.  What a beautiful taste of heaven it was.  When I was incapable, I was able to sit back and see the stunning bride for all she is.  This, people, is church.  The body of Christ caring for a weak, sick, or broken member.  Nursing us along in our inability.  Encouraging us, pushing us back to health.

And such a valuable reminder of practical things which are truly spiritual.

Case in point: food.  My beautiful friend who met me upon our return home with groceries and dinner.  And others who cared for us that way.  I felt so loved and was reminded of the importance of my role as a stay-at-home mom to love others the same way.

There is no occasion when meals should become totally unimportant.  Meals can be very small indeed, very inexpensive, short times taken in the midst of a big push of work, but they should be always more than just food."    --Edith Schaeffer

Which brings me back to this important work.  I'm writing a Bible study.  On suffering.   Because of my friend's journey with breast cancer, I was introduced to a beautiful soul, Kara Tippetts.  (You can follow her story on her blog Mundane Faithfulness.)  Kara has written about her own cancer story and the fight and struggle to find grace and God's goodness in the midst of it in her book The Hardest Peace, which is what I'm using to develop the core of my study.  Her broken honesty inspires the hardest of hearts, and even now as I write this, she struggles for her last few days on this earth, seeking to praise in each moment.  Oh what do I know of suffering?  I have sometimes cranky toddlers who make messes, skip naps, are ungrateful, and are loud and rambunctious at the library.  Seriously.  Those are the things that brought me to tears yesterday.  How can I possibly write a Bible study on suffering when a soul like Kara is about to leave this world and leave behind four beautiful young children and one faithful man?  When my friend has walked her own cancer story yet grieves the recent loss of both her in-laws and daily finds grace in caring for her son with special needs?  How can I possibly write about suffering when I have every need met?  When I live in such comfort?  When we are blessed with such health?  With family and friends who love and support us?  How can I possibly write?  Write.

I am not qualified.  This is true.  And so, I lay myself down at the foot of the cross today and look to the only One who can provide the words I so desperately need.  The words the women in my Bible study so desperately long for.  His Word that quenches every thirst, satisfies every hunger.  The Word who became flesh and dwelled among us that we might become qualified.  That I might be qualified.  To write.  So this morning, I do that.  I read and re-read and edit.  And ask the Word to be alive in me and through me that many might find Him in their hurt and suffering.  That this world that can never satisfy pushes us into our brokenness, to our edges, and causes us to lay it all down at the foot of the cross.  To seek a greater peace, an everlasting hope, as we become like Him in our suffering.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Text: 1 Corinthians 2:1-5

I had a rotten day today, seriously rotten.  And there were no huge catastrophes or any major incidents to point at and say, "Oh yes, that would make anybody's day bad."  No, I just had one of those days where my mind is sunk, my spirit plummeted.  Every little thing grated on my nerves.  Kids needed something?  Sounds like whining to me.  Kids whine?  Sounds like screaming.  Kids ask for something?  Definitely demanding tone in that voice.  Kids argue?  World War III in our living room.  The littlest things were blown way out of proportion in my mind.

Guys, it started bad.  I got out of bed an hour later than normal and fell asleep face down on the table while trying to pray and read the Word.  Not kidding.  All the farther I made it as a mother was to get the kids out of their rooms when they woke up before heading to the couch to fall asleep.  I had had my cup of coffee and got almost seven hours of sleep the night before but still could not peel my eyes open.  To put it lightly, I failed miserably as a mother, as a wife, as a person today.  And get this. . . I even took a pregnancy test to make sure there was nothing else on which to blame my funk.  (If you know us well, that should be medically impossible, but always best to make sure.  Oh, and it was negative.)

All this to say, I'm a miserable and selfish person.  And I'm capable of straight up ugliness.  I did not want to be a mom today.  I did not want to have to answer to anyone or clean up after anyone or simply care for anyone.  I barely wanted to care for myself.  I was selfish, unmotivated, lazy, angry, bitter, resentful, and even somewhat sad.  In and of myself, I'm all of these things on a daily basis.  I do not have it all together.  I do not have all the answers.  I do not have eloquent and beautiful things to write.  I am rotten.

And I don't believe I'm the only one who knows this to be true about one's self, simply because I know a lot of people.  I know as some of you are reading this, you're already dismissing this as "normal," that we all have those days.  But isn't that telling?  If being a miserable and selfish person is "normal", isn't that telling of our condition as humans?  That something is broken in us?  See, we like to say that deep down we think people are good, but we're not.  When left to ourselves, we become selfish, unmotivated, lazy, angry, bitter, resentful, sad.  We don't seek to do good to others and live selfless lives.  We are not good.  Sure there are those who seem good, but I bet they would confess having these same feelings.  If even those whom we consider "good" confess they are truly rotten, we have to admit we are broken and in need of something more.

So here's the thing I'm trying to say.  By outward appearances, I think many would consider me "good."  I say a lot of right things, write some nice words, and do some kind things every now and then.  But none of those things is good enough to fix this brokenness in me.  See, I know that no matter how much I do for others, how selfless I seem to be living, unless I find a way to fix this brokenness, it doesn't matter.  My "goodness" cannot fix me, and it cannot fix others.  It can temporarily bring happiness or relief, but we are all left in this muck together without someone to save us.

And that is where Jesus comes in.  See, God created us to be in perfect fellowship with Him.  That was broken when Adam and Eve sinned and desired control over their own lives.  And every man and woman since has fought the same fight against God to control his/her own life and has worked to earn some sort of divine favor by being "good" enough.  But that's what's so beautiful about this sweeping story of God's.  It's that he tells us, "You can never be good enough.  In fact, you have to be perfect, holy, in order to be in my presence."  Doesn't really sound like good news, does it?  That's because it's only part of the good news.  If you read the Bible, you find all these stories of sacrifices and offerings that priests make to appease God's wrath and seek forgiveness of sins for man's brokenness, and it doesn't seem to make sense, unless you read with the end in mind.

The end of the story is that Jesus comes to offer grace and salvation to broken humanity.  To pull us out of the muck of our miserable and selfish existence.  He does this by offering his perfect life as a sacrifice to take on the full wrath of a perfect and holy God so that those who believe in him and call on him as savior and Lord can be fixed of their brokenness.  No more trying to be "good" enough or having faith in my goodness to try to fix me.

And that's the beauty of knowing Jesus.  That when I have a rotten day and fail as a mother, as a wife, as a person, I know that there is always grace.  That all I have to pray is one word, "Grace,"  "Jesus," and I'm covered.  That tomorrow starts anew and there's grace.  I do not have to have all the answers, be in control, use eloquent words.  He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world.  I do not have to be overcome by my brokenness.

"And so it was with me, brothers and sisters.  When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God.  For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.  I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling.  My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God's power."  1 Corinthians 2:1-5 (NIV) 

Linking up with #SheReadsTruth #SheSharesTruth Lent series.

  

A Morning Prayer

"Lord, open our lips, and our mouths shall proclaim your praise." 

Don't let me steal or claim any of your glory for myself.  

As the birds sing their pre-dawn song, 

beckoning morning to come, 

thanking and praising you 

for the day that hasn't yet broken the horizon, 

may I have faith and hope in what is to come, 

singing your praises, 

trusting your goodness 

all the while.

Psalm 100

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

Serve the Lord with gladness:

come before his presence with singing.

Be joyful in the Lord, all you lands.

Know ye that the Lord he is God:

it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;

we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Be joyful in the Lord, all you lands.

Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,

and into his courts with praise:

be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

Be joyful in the Lord, all you lands.

For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting;

and his truth endureth to all generations.

His love and mercy endure forever.

*Excerpt and Psalm taken from The Rhythm of Prayer: A Forty Day Experience by Mark A. Moore.

*Photo Jennifer Langley | Unsplash

Living the Good Life: She Reads Truth Reflection, Jonah

Continuing with #SheReadsTruth #SheSharesTruth Weekly Reflections

Unsplash

Text: Jonah 3:1-10, Jonah 4:1-11

Got up early to spend time in the word: check.
Made my kids a nice breakfast: check.
Greeted hubby with a kiss: check.
Cleaned up house: check.
Started laundry: check.
Ran errands: check.
Smiled at everyone I made eye contact with: check.
Sent a couple of encouraging emails, text messages: check.
Made freezer meals for a friend in need: check.
Ate dinner as a family: check.
Played with the kids, undistracted: check.
Had craft time with the girls: check.
Read Bible stories at bed time: check.
Put kids to bed: check.
Went to bed early: check.

Checklist complete, feeling pretty good about myself.  I had a good day; I'm such a good person.

Good.

What do we mean by that?  You'll hear things like, "He's such a good guy," or, "I don't go to church but I'm a good person."  Good as in not bad?  Great, but do any of us truly believe that about ourselves?  I mean, for years I've had people speak more highly of me than I knew to be true because I've always worked to be a good person.  I've always felt like such a hypocrite because while others were lauding praise about my behavior, my faith, my whatever, inside I knew I was a gossip and liar, an ungrateful, unsatisfied, selfish person.  Inside the good exterior, I was rotten.

And, "I live assuming I am not alone in these weaknesses.  Mostly because I know a lot of people" (Jennie Allen, Anything).

Allen also says, "A person can learn the right behavior for any character quality."  Want me to be good?  I'll paste a smile and help somebody out.  Want me to be kind?  I'll share my favorite toy.  Want me to be compassionate? I'll sit with someone who's crying.  We think we can appear to have it all together, all the while creating lives that don't need God.  And Christ came and turned that kind of good behavior on its head.  Goodness was the biggest fight he picked.  Over and over he chided the spiritual leaders for their supposed goodness (which really was just masked self-righteousness).  Allen says, "What if this very thing we're striving for (goodness) is what's keeping us from God?"  And the prophet Isaiah tells us our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment to the Lord (if He is not the center of them).

We see this kind of behavior on full display in the prophet Jonah in the final two chapters of the book as he finally "obeys" God and preaches repentance to his enemies, the wicked Ninevites.  I can't help but wonder if his obedience was simply goodness.  "Want me to obey?  I'll go.  Doesn't mean you, Lord, are at the center of it.  I just prefer to not be swallowed by another big fish."  And the reason I suppose that God isn't at the center of it is that after witnessing hundreds of thousands of Ninevites repent and God's awesome mercy on display, this good man doesn't rejoice!  He throws a temper tantrum!

He stomps off into the dessert and pouts.  But God.  In his ever lovingkindness, provides a plant for shade, and Jonah can't help but be satisfied in it.  But when God causes the plant to wither the next day, Jonah is again furious.  See, God--after all Jonah has been through--is still not at the center of Jonah's life.  Jonah's standing still, expecting God to orbit him.  So this good man throws another fit.  How dare a loving God kill his plant?  And God?  Well, lets look at the text.

Then the Lord said, "You had compassion on the plant for which you did not work and which you did not cause to grow which came up overnight and perished overnight.  Should I not have compassion on Nineveh, the great city in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know the difference between their right and left as well as many animals?"  (Jonah 4:10-11) 

So God extends mercy to the worst of sinners and good people are upset by it.  But the GOOD NEWS is that even in our self-righteousness, our self-centered lives, are self-goodness, Christ came to provide mercy for good people, too.  The Apostle Paul was one of those spiritual leaders Christ preached against.  No doubt he believed he was a good man, but once Christ is the center of his life, he tells Timothy, "Even though I was a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy . . ." (1 Timoth 1:13).

We can continue living good lives that have no need for God, convincing ourselves we are O.K. even when we know at our core we are rotten, or we can call on our savior to show us mercy, come face to face with our sin, and live a redeemed life.  May we rejoice in the mercy found in our Savior!

Mornings and Mournings

Photo by Taylor Leopold | Unsplash

It's early.  Too early.  In fact, darkness will shroud the earth for two hours more before dawn cracks the eastern sky, but my little birds, they're early ones.  They leave me no choice but to pull my weary body from bed, shuffling to the coffee maker and the quiet corner of my house.  Here I wait for the Lord, and though I stumble through my thoughts and words, I offer up prayers.  Prayers of confession, prayers of praise, prayers of intercession.  I'm trying to learn how to pray, using books, reciting liturgies, freely making needs known.

And this time, this place, it's becoming sacred.  Late nights and TV shows and social media don't hold the same allure anymore in comparison to this pre-dawn sanctuary.  But there are days.

Days like today when it took everything in me to move my tired bones from my warm bed.  Days where I come away feeling like the Lord was silent.  Days of discouragement.  And it trickles into the rest of my day.  Whining children grate on every nerve.  Gray skies lead to despair.  A seemingly critical word from my husband sends me into a tailspin.  And I respond in anger, sarcasm, frustration.

So when I get an email or a text from a friend saying she is so encouraged by my faith, how she sees what God's doing in my heart and wants to know more about it, can we meet so she can learn more, it's almost laughable.  Me?  The worst of sinners and hypocrites.  The one who steals glory, the one who denies her maker, the one who shrinks in fear, the one who does exactly what she doesn't want to do.

Yet, that's my sin nature, isn't it?  As a Christ-follower and believer I become easily discouraged because I am convicted when I sin, am aware of how it hurts the Father's heart, am conscious of my own hypocrisy and how it may turn others away.  And how badly I mess up daily.  Thankfully I'm not alone in this.  If even the Apostle Paul struggled with this, surely I can be encouraged in my walk.  He says in Romans 7:14-25 (MSG),

But I need something more!  For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help!  I realize that I don't have what it takes.  I can will it, but I can't do it.  I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway.  My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions.  Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.  It happens so regularly that it's predictable.  The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up.  I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight.  Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge. 

Something has gone wrong deep within me . . . man how true that is.  On days like today when I'm running on "E" and have nothing left to give, all I can utter is, "Grace."  And thankfully, there is grace.  As translated in The Message above, "I obviously need help!"  And grace has set me free from the law of sin!  I don't have to choose sin.  "Don't I realize that whatever I choose to obey becomes my master?  I can choose sin, which leads to death, or I can choose to obey God and receive his approval."  Romans 6:16 (NLT, empahsis mine)  I don't have to choose anger, fear, self-righteousness, hypocrisy, defeat.

But now that you've found you don't have to listen to sin tell you what to do and have discovered the delight of listening to God telling you, what a surprise!  A whole, healed, put-together life right now, with more and more of life on the way!  Work hard for sin your whole life and your pension is death.  But God's gift is real life, eternal life, delivered by Jesus, our Master.  (Romans 6:23, MSG)

Engulfed by the Deep | She Shares Truth Jonah 1-2 Reflection

Week 3: #shereadstruth #shesharestruth #lent reflection

Text: Jonah 1:2

Running away.  

To the known ends of the world  

to escape the presence of God.

A terrifying call.

A horrific thought.

Salvation, mercy for the wicked?

Better to flee than to obey.

A holy and terrible pursuit 

by He who holds the winds in his fist. 

Boat tossing on waves,

life tossing in the storm.

Confessing, professing His power.

Thrown to the sea,

engulfed by the deep.

Rejected, turned away,

Crying out, repenting from the depths:

where can I go to escape you?

Returning to right worship.

Life brought up from the pit. 

Abandoning my little gods,

forsaking my loyalty to vanity.

Sacrifice and praise to you.

Thanksgiving, eucharisteo are yours.

Salvation, mercy belong to you.

Dry and steady land once again.

Longing for Easter | She Reads Truth: Psalm 38 Reflection

Week Two: #SheReadsTruth #SheSharesTruth Lent | Fasting Reflection

Text: Psalm 38:1-22

Don't you love that our heavenly Father uses great big heaping messes of people to accomplish his great big plans? David is no exception.  If anything, David is THE example of a great big heaping mess of a person.  Adultery. Murder. Pride.  We see these things laid out for us throughout the accounts of his life, and yet we have these sweeping prayers of repentance and pleas for mercy displayed in the Psalms.  Numerous reasons account for why David was donned "a man after God's own heart," but perhaps one of the greatest was that he had such a profound understanding of how the sickness of sin crushes our Father's heart.

I mean, in 2 Samuel 12:1-23, David has taken another man's wife, conceived a child with her, and ultimately plotted the man's murder.  The prophet Nathan tells David that along with these sins he also caused God's enemies to blaspheme His name, so as a result the child would die.  And David's response is where we see the heart of the man.  For seven days while the child battles, so does David by "inquiring of God for the child" and fasting, lying prostrate on the ground, and refusing any assistance for the duration.

And when the child passes away, David stands up, washes and anoints himself and then WORSHIPS the Lord.

How is it that a father stricken with grief is able to worship even during the loss of a child?  Could it be that while David battled and fasted, God drew near and changed a sinner's heart?  Fasting is always about drawing near to the heart of the Father.  

So in Psalm 38, we consider the heart of this man as he describes the wretched sickness of sin afflicting him.  Was this his cry during that seven day fast?  "Anguished in my bones, carrying sins too awful and heavy to bear, benumbed, badly crushed, groaning in agitation in my heart, sorrow continually before me, full of anxiety because of my sin." 

And I, too, am one great big heaping mess.

I have carried a burden too much to bear.  I have felt abandoned by family and friends, left alone to carry it.  I have walked through seasons where sorrow and anxiety were continually before me.  Health has failed me because of my mourning and sickness in spirit.  David and me?  You and me?  We're not that different.  We've all got our own messiness, and in these soul-crushing moments, the weight of His hand is too much to bear and I am forced to my knees, sometimes--like David--face against the floor.

Pressing to the ground and into the Father's heart in prayer and fasting.  Allowing God to draw me near and change me.  Longing for resurrection and redemption.  Longing for Easter.   

In the winter of our souls, the darkness of the night,

we long for Easter, for resurrection.  

And this, THIS is the point of fasting, of Lent.  

To long for resurrection and redemption, to long for Easter,

for the ONE who resurrects and redeems. 

Photo Credit Todd Quackenbush | Unsplash

But beautiful things come from beautiful messes, and when I recognize and confess my sin, God draws me near, into his beautiful plans.  Just as David affirmed, "My hope is in You, O Lord; You will answer O Lord my God," (Psalm 38:15), we can rest assured that Jesus has gone before us and allows us to draw near to a holy God who answers and is the source of our hope.  As the author of Hebrews writes:

"Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.  Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near."  Hebrews 10:19-25 (NASB)

Praise the Lord for His perfect sacrifice that resurrects and redeems, that allows us to enter the holy place and draw near!  Praise the Lord for Easter!  

She Reads Truth: Psalm 130 Reflection

Photo credit Jon Phillips / Unsplash

Growing up, periods of the Holy Calendar like Advent and Lent would come and go and make little impact on my knowledge or worship of God.  But as an adult, I'm learning more about these seasons and am striving to enter into the holy holidays with a sense of reverence and worship more so than celebration.

So I'm excited that #SheReadsTruth  published a Lent study which also includes a weekly homework assignment to meditate on a passage throughout the week and write a reflection/devotional about it to share on Friday.  Assigned this week is Psalm 130:1-8, and while at first glance it's accessible enough to apply directly to our lives, it's much richer upon further readings with study and understanding of some of the Hebrew and direct context.  

Psalm 130 is a Song of Degrees or Ascents belonging to one of fifteen Psalms (120-134) that were believed to be sung by Jews during their annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem which brought the worshipers singing to Zion.  In this particular Psalm we see a quick ascent from the depths of despair to hope in the Lord's redemption.  Below I have rewritten the Psalm with some paraphrases and have attempted to capture some of the nuances the Hebrew (language) carries with it.

O Lord, out of great despair I continually cry out to you.

Lord, cup your ears and fully perceive the earnestness in my prayers of begging for your graciousness and favor.

If you, Lord, counted every sin of mine and held them against me, I would be lost forever.

But thankfully, you give forgiveness and for that you are to be respected, honored, revered.  Worshiped!

I am expecting you to move, my soul depends on you, and I trust you because of the promises of your word.

And I wait for you in the darkness with more longing and expectancy than a guard who keeps watch for the morning.

Israel, I command you to hope and trust in the Lord, for with Him is one who befriends and helps us and can redeem all things and people.

And he will redeem all of Israel from every kind of sin.

Just as the Psalmist, who of us hasn't known despair?  That deep hurt and longing of the soul.  As believers, we are not shielded from the pains and sufferings of this fallen world.  We lose those we love, we're afflicted with disease, dreams get shattered, loved ones betray us.  And we're sent to the depths.  But always, as shown in this Psalm, we must cry out to the Lord from those depths.  

"Deep places beget deep devotion.  

Depths of earnestness are stirred by depths of tribulation.  

The depth of their [believers'] distress moves the depths of their being;

and from the bottom of their hearts an exceeding great and bitter cry rises unto the one living and true God."

--Charles Spurgeon, Treasury of David

I remember shortly after receiving Bear's diagnosis of Down syndrome, I thought everything inside me was cracking.  My body was wracked by sobs as I cried out, "Why?  Why does my little boy have to go through life with this, Lord?  How am I supposed to do this?"  But this deep place of suffering allows something beautiful to emerge.  A five-year struggle is begetting this deep earnestness and devotion, and as the Lord pulls me out, I can't help but sing his praises.  Truly, it has been an ascent as I declare along with the Psalmist, "For with the Lord there is lovingkindness, and with Him is abundant redemption.  And He will redeem [us] from all [our] iniquities."

Though we suffer, though we despair, though we feel lost in the depths, we are never to be passive or remain there.

Sometimes our prayer is simply one word:

Jesus.

Grace.

Mercy.

Help.

Save.

Deliver.

Love.

Restore.

  Redeem.  

Grasp onto a word and cry out.  We have a Father who bends down and cups his ear to our pleas and in great tenderness offers a hand to pull us out of the pit.  Praise the Lord!