Stay the Course

About a week ago, The Patriot was on TV. For you ladies, that's the movie with Mel Gibson and Heath Ledger. If you're a guy, that's the bloody 2000 film about revenge, the Revolutionary War, and the role of the colonial militia's guerrilla tactics.

Anyway, since I had seen it before, my mind was wandering a bit after a series of tragedies in the movie, one of which was the final blow for the main character (Benjamin Martin). He lost his son. His friend, Colonel Burwell, came to talk to him about how much he was needed to fight the next battle, but Martin was engulfed in grief.

Col. Harry Burwell: I'll help you bury him. [referring to Martin's recently killed son]

Benjamin Martin: I'll bury him.

Col. Harry Burwell: My wife in Alexandria is with child, my first. I fight for that child... Benjamin, nothing will replace your sons, but if you come with us, you can justify their sacrifice.

Benjamin Martin: Why?... Why do men feel they can justify death? Is it arrogance or... [voice trails off] I have long feared that my sins would return to visit me... and the cost is more than I can bear.

Col. Harry Burwell: Benjamin, we have a chance. Greene and Dan Morgan are down from Virginia. If we win this next battle, victory in the war is within our grasp.

Benjamin Martin: Go then, seek your victory. I'm a small issue to it.

Col. Harry Burwell: You're wrong Benjamin; you matter to your men, and to others as well. Your victories and... and your losses, are shared by more than you know. Stay with us. Stay the course!

Benjamin Martin: I have run my course.

When Burwell spoke those words in bold, I was almost startled at the force they took on for my situation. Pulled back into the movie by that dialogue alone, I watched closely to see how Martin would respond. I too felt beaten by a long battle that was fraught with loss and discouragement. I too felt pushed to the sidelines, isolated, unable to do anything of much value because of my illness and circumstances that keep me tied to the bed and couch.

But when I saw Martin unfurl the American flag his late son had patched with his own hands and ride up alongside the cheering militia - with tears, I realized the significance of rising above the pain God allows in our lives. Those who know us see the power of the Holy Spirit living in us. The victory is already his, and he shares it with us. We have reason to hold our heads high and ride proudly into each spiritual battle, knowing that our victories and losses matter to more than we know - especially to our Commander, Jesus Christ.

If you are feeling beaten physically, devastated emotionally, or crushed by doubt and despair spiritually, do not forget this image of victory. It's the power of our sins and losses redeemed as we ride under the banner of the Kingdom of the Son who died for us. This is what will carry believers into triumph.

The Patriot: "Stay the Course"

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. 

Hebrews 12:1-3

Transformed

Yesterday, I was struggling with a devotion that said I needed to believe God would answer my urgent prayers as if I had already received the answer of "yes."

"This is not realistic," my heart said.

Sometimes God answers our urgent prayers with, "no." But that should not diminish my faith. How can I pray with faith and yet still feel such discouragement, fear, and uncertainty about the future? This troubled me as I closed the book and skipped my prayer time.

I thought about this as I worked on a crochet project during the afternoon. The rhythmic movement of my fingers, hook, and yarn gave me plenty of time for thought.

What is it that I can be sure that God will do for me in this life?  What is something I can pray for and be sure that I will receive it, as sure as if it has already happened?

Suddenly, it hit me: God will redeem my suffering. None of this pain is wasted. It is all for His glory.

Some pain in life is considered valuable - labor that brings forth a new baby, hard training by an Olympic athlete, rehabilitation for a stroke victim. It is pain with a purpose. When we tend to lose heart is when we feel we are suffering pain without a purpose. Long years of struggle with no end in sight and only a miracle or death as the way out can feel endless and without use. How can God use this quiet, secret pain?  I am not on TV. I am not famous. No one will hear of my tragedy. My struggles are hidden and not well understood, even by me.


But by believing in Christ, I can be sure that all my grief will be turned to joy. My troubles are achieving for me an eternal glory that far outweighs the pain. Like a mother holding her newborn, the excruciating labor will have been worth it. Like a gold medalist on the podium, the intense struggle to overcome will make the victory all the more sweet.

When I wonder how this powerful reversal can possibly be true in my situation, I consider the altered book artist Guy Laramee. He took old, dusty books that appeared to be of no use or value and transformed them into the beautiful, valuable sculptures of landscapes pictured here. Sometimes, I think I spend so much time focused on how the book of my life is written and what will happen in the next chapter that I forget: God is in the business of transforming, like a skilled artist. He transforms sinners into saints. He transforms the pain of loss into ministries of comfort. And in Christ, he transforms death into life. My pain is not wasted in God's hands.

I believe we will be blown away by what God can do with our grief if we give it to him. He "is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us."

Merry Christmas

A dear friend of mine sent me an article about being in pain over Christmas. It talked about God drawing near to us by being born on earth as Jesus. Because of his sacrifice, we can freely offer up our brokenness to him, rather than trying to cover it with false holiday cheer.

To those who are hurting on a day when everyone else seems so happy, may you feel the comfort of Emmanuel in your heart. He, who made the ear, hears your cries. He, who formed the eye, sees your pain. Invite him into your heart and into your loss. He promises to come again and make all things new.


May this song bring you comfort this Christmas day.

"Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us." Matthew 1:23

I've got to be honest...

The past 8 weeks have been difficult for me. Shortly after my flu shot in October, I had the tingling reaction in my face and limbs and then was diagnosed with an infection that caused mono-like symptoms. Despite 2 rounds of antibiotics, my symptoms persisted and eventually culminated in an endless sinus infection.

After the triumphant health progress from my treatment this summer and fall, with a strict gluten-free diet, avoiding sugar, and adding L-glutamine powder to heal my damaged gut, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. Back to being sick. Back to being in bed. Losing the conditioning and strength I felt from walking. It all just seemed like one more loss. And for how long?

As I struggle through the third round of antibiotics, still with symptoms, I pray for God's healing and that this infection won't turn chronic, requiring months of antibiotics and complications. I feel despair. I feel a sense that God is not listening and that I cannot hope for more than what I have right now.

My feelings have overwhelmed me as my grandma continues to sink deeper into the confusion of dementia and becomes needier and more unreasonable. She hits and insults to the point where you'd think it was her greatest pleasure to strike emotionally in the rawest of sensitive areas. Yet her life lingers on, and her true personality was never like this, so we have to remember her as she was. We honor her first because we honor Christ and the life he gave to her, but also because when my mom and I were children, she honored us with exceptional love and care. It does not make my mom's months of sleepless nights and countless bathroom trips with her any easier, but it gives us perspective that her generous soul is trapped in a broken mind and failing body.

It is with a heavy heart that I also confess to our stalking situation not being resolved. I have written about this only briefly and sporadically before on my blog because it is a situation that confounds logic and sounds blatantly unbelievable, but we've continued to have evidence of home intrusion, missing items, harassment in public, and vandalism. My mom has been hurt, and I honestly feel like God is allowing this without anyone to help. My dad has left us in this situation without protection.

I wait on the Lord today in discouragement. There is still hope buried somewhere deep down in there. But when my mom is showing me new injuries on her body and my grandma is talking to a hallucination in the next room, I find myself asking, "O Lord, how much longer?" At a time when I feel my weakest, my burdens feel the heaviest. And I come to Him and say, "You must take these things from me because I am not equipped to handle them." And still I wait. Each day feels like the movie "Groundhog Day," as if the same horrible song replays from the moment I awake.

I have got to be honest that sometimes waiting on God does not involve bright new insights every week. Sometimes circumstances don't change for the better just because you pray and beg for relief. There is faith that lasts in spite of not smiling, not feeling encouraged, and being betrayed by those entrusted to protect. There is faith that lasts through secret pain so bad that no one knows the depth but Christ himself. There are circumstances so awful that they are difficult to believe, even for the very people living through them. The faith that survives these things is what I want. It eventually comes forth as gold, refined by raging fire. But I've got to be honest. Today I am feeling the flames.

"How long, O LORD? Will you hide yourself forever? How long will your wrath burn like fire? Remember how short my time is!" Psalm 89:46-47

Stronger

It will be two weeks tomorrow since I had a flu shot. I don't typically get them, but this year my new doctor encouraged it because of my risk factor of asthma. I'd had an H1N1 shot (without the preservative thimerosal) 2 years ago with no major complications, and I thought about how I'm healthier now than I was then, so I should be able to tolerate it. I decided that I should go for it, even if I had a few days of feeling run-down. However, I completely forgot to ask for the thimerosal-free injection.

As I was falling asleep the night of the shot, I felt my face start to tingle on the left side (the side my shot had been given). Since then, I've had off and on tingling in my face, which later moved to my arm and hand. One week after the shot, I also developed swollen, painful lymph nodes in my neck, a low fever, and fatigue. The reaction has been scary, to say the least, since I don't know how long it will last or how bad it will get. Though very rare, the dreaded reaction of Guillain-Barre Syndrome is always in the back of my mind when my arm feels strange. Will I suddenly feel weak and lose the ability to move?  Or will this tingling just ease off over the next few weeks?  Though I believe I will be ok, there are no sure answers.

Coping with multiple challenges was already difficult before the shot, so I have been struggling with God over this added burden. I feel like I just can't take one more thing, but one more thing has come anyway. What do we do when our already swamped boat gets hit with a fresh wave?

The thing we should NOT do is read about horror stories involving extensive nerve damage on the Internet. Did that. Not helpful.

But what has fostered peace in my heart is my loving Father in Heaven. I know he is with me through this. I know my friends are praying for me and thinking about me. I know that I have a doctor who is listening and monitoring me. In the end, this experience will serve to increase my faith.

My mom sent me a song that I have heard on the radio a hundred times, but I never stopped to really listen to the lyrics until today. If you are feeling completely overwhelmed, take a second to read the words in this song by Mandisa. It filled me with hope that one day, because of Christ's work in me, I will be stronger.


"He exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose" Acts 11:23

Building Bone

I tensed up when I was falling asleep. Footsteps fell down the hall, coming toward my door. My bedtime, already late, was now interrupted by light coming in from the hall. Just a few moments, but enough to wake me up even more. With a sleeping disorder and chronic illness, I felt thwarted in my attempts to get rest.

Living with a grandma who has dementia causes a lot of interruptions and chaos, which (after times of resisting) I've had to just accept. Feeling out of control is not new. 

As I shielded my eyes from the light streaming through the open door, my mind wandered to a "what if" scenario. What if I had no distractions from healing?  What if I could lie down to sleep at night with no real worries about my family or my well-being?  "It would be bliss," I concluded. I could go to bed at the same time every night. I could organize and keep my room the way I wanted it. Nothing would stress me out beyond reason because life would be in order. "Normal," as I commonly fantasize.

But just after this ideal bedtime scenario washed over me - these thoughts of no one opening my door or disturbing me when I just want to be left alone - I suddenly thought of a lesson I learned in college about bones.  Bones?

You see, I was always under the impression that when a break occurred in a bone, the way for it to heal was for the bone to be rested undisturbed for a long time (i.e. a cast). Take the weak bone and give it a rest already!  It has enough problems just trying to bridge the traumatic gap.

But one day in biomaterials class, I learned that for proper healing, broken bones fixed into the right position require added stress. What?!  Why would you put stress on something that is already broken and damaged?  Because, to quote a scientific article, "Bone is formed where stresses require its presence and resorbed where stresses do not require it."  Basically, stress trains your body to form protective material where it's need most.

As most of my posts do, this association made me reflect on how the added stresses in my life have caused me to form spiritual bone in places that were weak before. Without the stress of waiting for problems to resolve, I would not have developed any patience. Without repeated losses, I would not have developed better priorities and a profound sense of thanksgiving. Without obstacles to my health and career, I would not have learned perseverance, to work at a slow and steady pace for a long time. And without my heart broken, I would not have received a deeper love for Jesus.

When I think about healing in that way, I realize my spirit is like a broken bone. Properly aligned in God's Word after the initial injuries, I need weighty exercises to heal, even though it hurts. And whether I like it or not, this added stress is slowly calcifying new and lasting hope in me where my old earthly dreams have shattered.

Blocked

God cares more about your character than your comfort.

I've been getting this message through almost every route imaginable lately. Through Bible study. Through sermons. Through prayer. Through books.  It's clear that God is working, but he's not working to make my life safe and manageable. He's working to transform me on the inside.

This leaves me out of control. Which is a problem. Because I like feeling "in control." In fact, I will sometimes try to organize just to achieve some semblance of order, as if it will calm the inner storm.

Lately I've rediscovered that I enjoy playing the Nintendo game Tetris. When I sit there with the (aptly named) controller in my hand, I feel a sense of well-being.  Since I have power over what happens on the screen, I can orient the blocks to make everything fit together and disappear.

As the levels increase, blocks fall faster. I have to adapt quickly so that the pieces don't hinder my progress. Ultimately, they fall so fast that I can't control them anymore. They pile up and the steel door comes down. Game over.

Like the early levels of Tetris, my difficulties in adolescence used to surface manageably, one at a time. Ultimately things would fall into place, and the problem would disappear.

However, in adulthood my challenges have fallen faster and stayed around longer. The rate of emerging difficulties has become greater than my ability to deal with them. Finally, the steel door comes down. My skills aren't sufficient anymore to play the game.

Paul talks about a similar experience in his own life in 2 Corinthians 1:8-9

"We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life.  Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death." 

When I read that, I find great comfort in Paul's direct admission that there are certain problems in life that are far beyond our ability to endure. God sometimes places us in levels of life-Tetris that we aren't prepared to handle. But why does he do it?  Why would God want us to experience such a sense of powerlessness?

The next verses explain exactly why:

"But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many."

1)  He does it so we will rely not on ourselves but on God. And God has the power to handle these things, proven by his ability to raise Jesus from the dead. We have this power at work in us.

2)  Additionally, it is an opportunity for friends to pray for us and share our burdens, building a sense of love and community. It gives them the blessing of joining in God's work by helping us.

3)  Lastly, these overwhelming sufferings are a chance for the world to see God's glory. When we are ultimately granted God's favor of answered prayer, many will give thanks.

If you are suffering beyond what you can bear, don't feel that you have failed or that you need to somehow find a way to get back in control. Though it may feel terrifying, it is a blessing to be made aware of reality - that none of us is truly in control - God is. When we call upon him in our helplessness, he hears us, others pray for us, and the world will see God work. Our job is not to fix it but to wait on him in faith.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. 
Lamentations 3:25