Beauty From Pain

To hear this song, click on my playlist (right). This song is for my dear friends who are enduring heavy burdens with faith, day in and day out.

Isaiah 61:1-3
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,...to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.

"Beauty From Pain"

The lights go out all around me
One last candle to keep out the night
And then the darkness surrounds me
I know i'm alive but i feel like i've died
And all that's left is to accept that it's over
My dreams ran like sand through the fists that i made
I try to keep warm but i just grow colder
I feel like i'm slipping away

After all this has passed, i still will remain
After i've cried my last, there'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today,
Someday i'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

My whole world is the pain inside me
The best i can do is just get through the day
When life before is only a memory
I'll wonder why God lets me walk through this place
And though i can't understand why this happened
I know that i will when i look back someday
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames

Here i am, at the end of me
Tryin to hold to what i can't see
I forgot how to hope
This night's been so long
I cling to Your promise
There will be a dawn

Lost in Translation

The language in the Bible is sometimes hard for me to understand. Ever felt that way?

While reading Exodus and Leviticus, I find that the procedures for offering sacrifices and the exact dimensions of the tabernacle kind of make me want to skim and pick up the pace. Likewise, in the New Testament, certain terms have a vague meaning in my mind, making it hard for me to relate and apply scripture to my problems and my heart. Words like "righteousness," "sexual immorality," "falling away," "grace," "meek," or "sanctification," kind of swirl these nonspecific emotions and distantly related images in my head. If I don't stop to really think about what these words mean, I end up missing the full impact of a passage.

For instance, I recently read a parable Jesus told about how receiving the Word of God is similar to how different types of soil might receive a planted seed. Jesus talks about how some people don't fully receive his message for various reasons: Satan's direct intervention, difficult trials, or desiring the pleasures of this world too much.

The farmer sows the word. Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop—thirty, sixty or even a hundred times what was sown.

I've read that passage before, and in my preconceived, skim-through-the-passage-today kind of thinking, I almost missed a little note that I had jotted in the corner a long time ago. The note was from a sermon and simply said: become 'offended.'

Immediately, a little alarm bell went off in my head connecting the word "offended" with the language Jesus used to warn John the Baptist about not losing faith due to doubt, fear, or God not stepping in to save the day in the ways and times we expect.

An arrow had been drawn from my note "offended" to "they quickly fall away."

So what's the connection? Why'd I draw that line, and what do these passages have in common that can help me get through an exceptionally difficult time?

I decided to dig a little deeper.

I found out that the original Greek word for both "offended" and "fall away" is skandalizo.

One of the definitions opened my eyes to the relevancy and the freshness of God's word for my life that was hidden under the dusty English translation. I just had to brush it off to see the message clearly.

skandalizo: to cause a person to begin to distrust and desert one whom he ought to trust and obey

Bingo!

This is the root of my trial.

The temptation comes to me over and over-- in 1,000 different painful, annoying, depressing, and difficult moments-- each new one adding upon the others to build a pile of utter despair. In my waiting for deliverance, I'm consistently tempted to distrust God's good purpose for my life.

Last week, I met a woman entirely by chance who prayed for me. She did not know me, and beyond knowing I was struggling with illness and painful family issues, she was entirely a stranger when she sat down beside me. But in that prayer, she prayed for me more eloquently and powerfully than many who know me well. She prayed for peace, rest, and freedom for me and for my family. And anyone who knows me well can attest that these three things are the very things I have longed for, cried for, and prayed for-- year after year.

It was this woman, this godly woman, who reminded me of God's promise: "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." --Isaiah 55:9

His ways are higher than my ways in this trial. The darkness is completely under his control and power. The storm lasts only as long as his purposes require, and not a second longer. In the meantime, I must determine to not fall away, to not get offended at Jesus, and to not stumble or distrust and desert my Lord because of persecution.

God, though I don't understand your ways in my life right now, I trust you. I love you.

Not what I expected

Last night I heard an interview with a Christian couple who lost their baby a few hours after her birth. They talked about how they still believe God could have healed her, but chose not to. It's something they don't understand, and they feel tremendous grief. Yet they trust Him. How can they still believe in "a God that took their baby"?

For several years now, I've been probing the mystery of how God can be completely loving and still not always appear to act on behalf of those who love him, when it's within his power to do so.

As a Christian, it's tempting to want to defend God or present his "reasons" for not healing or for allowing tragedy. We often rub salt into the wound with phrases like, "all things work for good" or "God will never give you more than you can bear." We speculate about suffering in such a way that we can boil it down into detached cliches-- rationalizing to ourselves that God's lack of response isn't so bad after all. We try to make it sound admirable, or noble, or honorable to suffer. But trying to find the silver lining in a cloud with no sun behind it can be exhausting and futile.

How do we have faith when God distinctly rejects our requests for relief? Why should we continue believing in a God who sometimes resists fixing our hardest problems or relieving the pain in our darkest hour? Where is the hope and protection that scripture offers up to us? It can almost feel like we are being mocked. What protection? What defense? Why does her faith bring her what she needs, but mine does not? Do I not believe enough? Do I have too much hidden sin in my heart? Is Jesus not really who he says he is?

John the Baptist asked that last question. I was really surprised the first time I ever heard a sermon on that passage of scripture because before that, I had completely missed the motive behind the question.

While John lingers in prison, he sends his friends to question Jesus about why he wasn't acting the way that John (and us, as readers) expected. Jesus came to "set the prisoners free," but here John was-- Jesus' cousin, friend, and forerunner-- locked up, soon to be killed. Why hadn't Jesus set him free?

John asked, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"

Why haven't you set me free? What am I missing here? If you're really the Messiah, why don't I see the healing, the protection, and the miracles in my life?

It's something we all wonder deep down when the tragedies of this earth knock on our door. The rest of the time, we try to push down that rising voice inside of us when we see genocide on the evening news or hear of one more person who's lost their job in the failing economy. We see it; we think, "This doesn't fit who I think God is or how I expect him to act," and we push it aside and turn back to making dinner.

It's not pleasant or convenient to think about it when things are going well for us-- and John the Baptist surely didn't question Jesus' identity during the good times, when he was baptizing him in the river, hearing God's voice from heaven. John only began to verbalize his doubts when his life was on the line and Jesus wasn't doing anything about it.

So the answer Jesus gives here really is the linchpin of this whole issue. I mean, the cat really came out of the bag. How's he going to respond to this very plain and straightforward question-- a question of the ages?

Jesus replied, "Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me."

I heard a sermon by Dr. Erwin Lutzer the other night about having faith when God's response disappoints us. He talked about this passage with John and paraphrased the last line like this:

"Blessed is he who does not get upset about the way I run my business."

Now, it's one thing for Jesus to say that lightly to John who's in trouble, but it's another thing entirely for Jesus to offer up his own life, showing that he takes suffering very seriously. Jesus obediently went to the cross to die for our sins and was executed in a much more brutal and terrible way than John. And although it's not pleasant for us to grasp, there is some relief in the open acknowledgement that even as Christians (maybe especially as Christians), this life will bring us pain. There are times we will feel unprotected. We are not exempt from suffering, nor do we hurt less than anyone else. Our pain is not somehow lighter or easier in its nature because of our faith. It is a lie to think it is. So what is the difference between a Christian and anyone else who suffers?

I've heard several of my friends say to me that they are able to be quite patient when they are waiting for something that they know will come-- like a pizza they are certain will be delivered by 7, or a date with a special someone set for Friday next week. It's easier for them to wait because of the anticipation of what's to come and the promised end to their state of longing. Without that promise of reward on the horizon, patience becomes difficult, often turning into despair, and the uncertainty of waiting becomes a weight.

I get tired of waiting for things that might never happen on this earth. I might never be fully healed. I might never be able to reconcile with my dad. I might never bear a child. I might never see complete justice on this earth for what my family has endured. Nothing is certain-- money, health, relationships. I can hope all I want; still there are no earthly guarantees.

But the one guarantee I do have is a sure hope of heaven because of my faith in Jesus Christ.

I used to think this hope was distant, rather irrelevant, and almost mythical-- something to be glad I had as an insurance policy to "back up" for the day when I'd eventually need it. Someone would say "the hope of heaven," and I'd think-- but that's a million years away-- I need hope here and now!

But the fact is, heaven is more than a long-way-off dream. It could be our tomorrow if our lives are taken from us-- in a car accident, a sudden heart attack, or even Christ's return to earth. We have to live in that immediate awareness of the proximity of heaven and the temporal nature of our human sufferings. When we allow our suffering to become larger than the present moment, it overwhelms our vision, and all we can see is our pain.

We have a choice to make in that moment of pain (our prison moment)-- we can become offended at the way God runs his business, or we can "consider him [Jesus] who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that we will not grow weary and lose heart."

Dr. Lutzer summed up his sermon about disappointment with 4 points that are so clear and honest, my heart can't help but leap at the tremendous, guaranteed hope to which they point:

Sometimes faith changes circumstances.
Sometimes faith does not change circumstances.
Faith never judges God by circumstances.
Faith in Christ always leads to ultimate victory.

Lonely People

Just saw this on TV! I really like this song, and the video has a great message.

Life in the Desert

My prayers have been pretty much the same for several years now. I've written it, cried, it, begged, and bargained about it in every way imaginable. I've filled up quite a few pages of prayer journals with new and creative ways of saying it. What is it that dominates almost all of my conversations with God?

"Lord, please CHANGE MY CIRCUMSTANCES."

At this point, I'm like a dripping faucet. Change..change..change...change..

When I don't get the desired response from God, I do 1 of 2 things: I withdraw from praying because "what good is it doing anyway?" or I try newer and more creative ways of saying it. Maybe if I say it louder, or try to be a better person so that maybe this time...this one time...he'll actually hear me and pay attention!!

Invariably, neither of these responses work, and like a 3-year-old who feels hurt and ignored, I desperately become louder and more annoying in my attempts to get attention for my important request. "What is the problem, Lord? Am I just not getting through to you? Why am I left in this desert ignored?"

If I'm honest about it, it makes me angry. I want to see results. I want to see change. I'm waiting for it. I'm praying for it. Yet God has asked me to wait for the answer.

How do we cope with unanswered prayer, with unchanged circumstances, with unmet needs? Are we to assume that God delights in leaving us high and dry while we flop around like gasping fish out of water? That doesn't match with what the Bible says about his infinite love. Is he not able to change our circumstances because his hands are tied? That doesn't match what the Bible says about his unlimited power. So I'm left confused. If I stop speaking and start listening, what is it that God wants to show me in this desert place?

I think he wants me to see this tree in the desert.

This tree has an underground water source. I can't see it from the picture, but judging from the healthy leaves, I know water has to be there under the surface, and I know that the roots of that tree have to tap into that source for it to be so green. And even though God has not changed the climate around this tree, lessened the heat, or softened the soil, the tree still thrives on this water that we cannot see. All we see is this marvel-- this tree growing in the desert-- this oddity of life that causes us to scratch our heads and say, "there must be something life-sustaining flowing through that tree!"

No one is surprised by trees that grow in the rain forest. You'll never hear a jungle explorer say, "Wow, how do these trees and plants stay so green?" when there is a plentiful supply of rain every day.

Similarly, you'll never hear a person say, "How does that man have so much joy?" when his whole life is showered with endless happy events.

The harsh, dry seasons of life test what/who we rely on for our joy, peace, and contentment. Do we rely on the external showers of happiness to get us through life, or are we rooted deep in Christ, drawing our joy from Him?

Jeremiah 17:5-8
"Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who depends on flesh for his strength and whose heart turns away from the LORD. He will be like a bush in the wastelands; he will not see prosperity when it comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives.

But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."

If I listen closely to what God is saying, I will hear that for a time he has removed the daily rain forest showers from my life that I had grown to love and rely upon. In this desert place, I now have 2 choices--

1) To whither under the heat and pressure,

or

2) To send out my roots deeper into Him and to daily find life in his Word.

And this is the miracle from God-- not the change in climate to make us more comfortable, but the strength and resources to not only endure but thrive in the harsh environment. Like the flourishing tree in the desert, our unexplainable peace, joy, and endurance point away from us and boldly to Christ, our infinite source of living water-- invisible, yet powerfully sustaining us beneath the surface.

Isaiah 41:17-20
The poor and needy search for water but there is none;
their tongues are parched with thirst.
But I the LORD will answer them;
I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them.

I will make rivers flow on barren heights,
and springs within the valleys.
I will turn the desert into pools of water,
and the parched ground into springs.

I will put in the desert the cedar and the acacia,
the myrtle and the olive.
I will set pines in the wasteland,
the fir and the cypress together,

so that people may see and know,
may consider and understand,
that the hand of the LORD has done this,
that the Holy One of Israel has created it.

Light in the Darkness

How do you celebrate Christmas when things aren't as they should be?

How do you experience joy in Christ's birth when there is pain he has not yet relieved?

Christmas Eve is the answer to these things. It is the anticipation of the miracle.

For me, there has always been such a mysterious and beautiful quality to the night before Christmas. The snow falling in the dark, the call to fall on your knees as you sing and realize it is a Holy Night. I have to admit that the anticipation for me as a child is different now that I'm grown, but it is no less intense. Instead of longing for a morning of material presents under the tree, I now long for the morning of a long, dark, and hard night of trial.

The promise of presents was nice back in childhood, but eventually I stopped playing with all those toys. They got old, broke, or turned out to be less fun than the commercials advertised. But this miracle I'm leaning into now-- this miracle of hope that I'm clinging to in the darkest times of my soul--- This Jesus will not wear out or fade or be destroyed. I will be increasingly be captivated by him, and his deliverance is certain, sure, and trustworthy because I've placed my faith and trust in him.

Why is it that we all have such a hard time having faith in him when the bottom drops out? It's easy to say "I believe in Jesus" when the world's turning our way, or even when we have inconveniences. But when everything you once held as certain becomes uncertain-- when God lets tragedy not only strike but also linger in our lives, do we still have the courage to say "I believe" and mean it? We have certain expectations of God-- that he will make our lives comfortable, our friends and family blessed, and our prayers answered within a reasonable time. But God makes no such guarantees. "Unfair!" we cry in reflex-- without even thinking we react to loss and sorrow with a whiplash of faith that can catch our minds and emotions off-guard. We expect joy and peace to mean everything in its place and circumstances lining up. It has never occurred to us that joy can choose its home in the broken body, or peace lay covering the heart shedding tears.

Who is this man Jesus who said "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."? He's the one who holds his hand out to you today and says-- "Will you take it?" Will you take his hand knowing he could take you to the depths of some of the most painful places but promising that he will never leave you or forsake you?

I ask tonight if you believe in the hope of tomorrow. Do you believe that "to us a child is born, to us a son is given"?

He is our Wonderful Counselor when we can't understand.

He is our Mighty God when we can't defend ourselves.

He is our Everlasting Father when our earthly fathers die or fail us.

He is our Prince of Peace when we are hit hard in a world full of chaos, sin, and darkness.

Take heart, you who are in pain-- you who hurt and feel like it will never end. Take heart when you look at others and see that they have everything you want but can't have right now. God is gracious, and he remembers you.

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned."
Isaiah 9:2

Broken

The last entry I wrote didn't have much of "me" in it. I sat down to write it because I've been so plagued by fear, doubt, despair... seeing my loved ones suffer and suffering myself for a long time has done a number on me, and it's hard to keep going.

When I was a kid and my parents would take me to an educational historical village, I'd start to get tired of learning on my vacation about halfway through the day. My feet would hurt, and I'd be hungry, and no amount of tractors, train cars, or weaving loom demonstrations could rekindle in me the excitement I needed to go on. I'd glare at the video camera, and when I had finally had it, I'd just sit down and refuse to move.

I had that moment yesterday with God.

I am no "super-Christian" and the truth is, in between these blog posts, I struggle so desperately to cling to what I know in my head to be true. The feelings aren't always there. I'm weary and worn out from years of enduring. I'm waiting for the heavens to part, for the blessing to rain down, and for things to start going our way.

But that doesn't happen.

And I have to continue on somehow.

I told a friend recently that I had always thought that faith in Christ protected me. I thought God would shield me somehow from the deepest pain, or soften it, or somehow keep the worst from happening. The fact is I've seen some of the worst things happen to my family, and felt them happen to me. They are deeply personal and things I haven't been comfortable sharing on here for everyone to read, but the past several weeks have been devastatingly difficult for me. I've used up what little emotional and physical strength I've had on tremendously stressful situations, and I've had nothing left to fight the spiritual battle. I've physically been so run down and off track that I haven't been able to get out of the house, to even attend church, and that has contributed to my feelings of isolation.

I write all this not to whine, but to "keep it real."

A friend of mine recently posted pictures of her new home, beautifully organized and decorated for Christmas. The last 2 pictures showed the room that still had all her boxes, baskets, and bags of unpacked things. She called those pictures "keeping it real," and that's what I need to do here.

I need to be real about my weakness and my baggage so that Christ's strength can shine through me. That way you can see that these verses and entries come not from any great power on my part, but from the power of the Holy Spirit who lives within me and guides me through the deep, dark valley.

So here is my picture of the messy room-- the one that no one usually sees:

My father is no longer living with us, as of a few weeks ago. This is deeply painful to me and I feel betrayed, as if I have lost my father completely. This man doesn't act or sound like my dad. I don't know what has happened, but he is cold and unfeeling, even when confronted with my pain. He left because he was caught lying about some serious matters, and still remains uncaring about our physical safety or well being, preferring to blame us and say there is nothing he can do.

We have experienced continued harassment, home intrusions, theft, and often hear/record loud bangs and crashes in our garage, attic, and basement at night. The smell of cigarette smoke often permeates our bathroom and bedrooms, even though none of us smoke and we live in a freestanding house. We see footprints in the snow coming from the street, and going around our house.

Our cable, phone, and Internet have all been disconnected, interrupted, and problematic repeatedly, with no apparent cause. In addition, our toilets literally exploded sewage water all over our bathrooms, for no apparent reason.

My grandmother's condition following her stroke continues to deteriorate, and not only does she require care, but she has become difficult and angry-- making it almost impossible to do any basic hygiene care simply as she is always ready to fight, shake her stubborn fist, and defiantly proclaim her infamous phrase, "I'm not going to do it." It's so painful to see her once beautiful and gracious "old self" slip away into this angry shell of an old woman.

I have a new job that I do for a few hours from home at night, and someone else's mistake was blamed on me after only a week of training. I've also been so exhausted that I've been making mistakes of my own that don't look good for me.

I was the victim of credit card fraud last week.

To top it all off, I had to have a sexual assault examination after Thanksgiving due to vaginal trauma that I woke up with after being asleep in our home. This isn't the first time we have all woken up with injuries to our bodies, headaches, dizzy, nauseous, and no idea what has just taken place. I'm left with not only no validation for this traumatic experience, but also knowing I'm not safe to go to sleep in my own bed.

We're being victimized by some serious crime, and the people who we've gone to for help have either abandoned us, brushed us off, or backed away in fear-- including the police. For protection, we have only the work of my own inexperienced hands, and what I can order off of the Internet. It seems that the newest cameras I ordered last week have given us a short reprieve from the banging and thuds and nightmarish pain. I'm just not sure how much longer I can make it with these burdens on my shoulders. I'm so scared, and I have not felt or seen God's powerful intervention in a long time. He hasn't changed my circumstances. They've only gotten worse the more I've prayed.

I hunger for him to change this situation where we have been targeted, and I cannot bear to see my family hurt, to be hurt, and then to be victimized by unbelief on top of everything. I know what I've seen, and the harassment we've experienced has been real, vengeful, personal, and caused our family deep hardship and loss (relationally and financially). It began after we were robbed by a ring of caregivers-- at least one of which turned out to be a convicted felon, married to a rapist, and still they were not even investigated as a part of the ongoing harassment that began shortly after that original crime.

I had never heard of anything like this before it started happening several years ago, and even what I witnessed firsthand, I didn't want to believe at the beginning. But when I read accounts of others-- others who are stalked, harassed, robbed, and hurt through some sort of organized campaign, I realize we are not an isolated case. It's intense and something I usually never discuss in detail, but in all honesty, if I don't say that I fear for my safety, for my life, for my mother's life, then I may always regret that I kept this secret. I'm ashamed to tell people and embarrassed. I'm mortified that this has happened and that we have lived like prisoners this way for so long. But it is what it is, and I'm barely making it.

And that's my brokenness through which somehow, someday, I am convinced that Christ will display his glory.