Finding words to speak

When I couldn't find the words to pray this weekend, it was such a release of pressure when this psalm spoke for me. A portion of my burden was carried to God in these words. He understands when I feel so isolated and alone. When it seems as if no one can grasp the pain lashed tight around my soul, these words unbind it, and, loosened, I sigh, feeling the relief of room to breathe, words to speak, a God who gets my grief.

Save me, O God!
    For the waters have come up to my neck.
 I sink in deep mire,
    where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
    and the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with my crying out;
    my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim
    with waiting for my God.

But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord.
    At an acceptable time, O God,
    in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness.

Psalm 69:1-3,13

Lord, I need you.

Weary. That one word soaks through my bones sometimes. In those moments, it's as if I am a spectator, watching others live the life I want to live. I want to help people, to travel, to have a career, to have a family of my own. It's especially hard to be trapped by limitations which vary so much from day to day, even from minute to minute. The unreliability, the dependence, the weakness - it can wear on a soul that desperately wants to jump up and act.

I felt encouraged in my weakness last night as I read about David's exhausted men in 1 Samuel 30. David and 600 of his men had found their homes torched and their families and possessions stolen. When they rode off to catch the people who did it, 200 of the men were too exhausted after over 60 total miles and terrible grief to go on fighting. They stayed with the baggage while the other 400 men went with David to reclaim their people and goods.

It was when David returned, victorious and spent, that some of the men with him didn't want to share their spoil with those who'd needed to rest. David, a man after God's own heart, made clear that those who aligned themselves with him were just as deserving of the rewards as those who were stronger and capable of fighting. It was their heart attitude and their willingness to go as far as they could that mattered to David.

I think it's that way with God. When we are willing to go as far as our weariness will allow, even resting on the sidelines is a noble job. Let's not look down on those who sit and rest while the strong and healthy go out to do the more visible tasks. Just think of how abundant our reward in heaven will be, given by the same generous hand that provided for all of David's men - by the one whose power is made perfect in weakness.


But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 

Hope in the Darkness

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone." Isaiah 9:2

This Christmas I spent a lot of time thinking about this painting called "Twilight in the Wilderness" by Frederic Edwin Church. It reminds me of a journey taken through uncharted land - grueling, demanding, exhausting. But then, upon reaching a precipice at just the right time, there is the most breathtaking beauty that breaks through the daunting monotony. The constant struggles with underbrush and sleepless nights fade in that moment, awash with glory.

Jesus came for us who are hurting, for us caught in the far-reaching effects of sin, addiction, and sadness.

He came first to the shepherds. They were, as Pope Francis said, "among the last, the outcast...who were awake, keeping watch in the night, guarding their flocks." God chose them specifically for this extraordinary moment on the precipice, to witness his glory breaking through into our painful struggles. He came first not to kings but to those humble workers who day after day kept watch in the lonely places. Jesus came to seek those who want light more than the darkness they feel they can't escape.

If you, like the shepherds, are awake in the late night alone seeking relief, if because of pain or fear or illness or trauma or caregiving or grief you feel that the light of a Savior is a far-off, flickering flame - remember there is hope in the manger. He is the Light of the World promised to save us, and our future glorious deliverance is sure when we trust him.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:5

A Year of Questions

This year I've obviously written much less. As the cursor blinks, I wonder why I have so few answers. I wonder where the analogies are, why I can't boil down what I'm learning or sum up the moments of these days and months.

The fact is that this has been a year of questions more than answers. Last year at this time, I was being broken again. Events happened that were beyond my power, and that feeling of being out-of-control, of being so frustrated and (dare I say) angry with God sent me into a dark time. I wrestled with who God was all over again. I even stopped wrestling at times and tried to numb myself with TV, knitting projects, puzzles, anything to forget the pain. As the series of crises eased off, the lingering sense of helplessness and isolation remained. I looked at God and church through raw experiences that didn't match the neat little packages of "pray and receive" or "come for fellowship and be accepted and helped."

No. My problems ran too deep to share over casual "How was your vacation?" conversation. My questions and searching weren't socially acceptable. So I hid them. I went underground and withdrew from sharing. It was easier, and I didn't know what else to do. It became normal for me to skip a week (or more) of Bible reading, only to catch up in binge reading so that I wouldn't lose my anchor altogether.

My prayers were sparse and I stopped condemning myself for it. I wondered where God was. People asked me to pray for trivial things, and I wanted to scream that I could barely pray for my family and myself. I knew things could get even worse, so I'd try to remain thankful almost in fear of suffering more loss if I became ungrateful. A flicker of hope was found in reading about people who struggled with the same disillusionment. Those who had lived in the bubble of suburban "life-works-out" and suddenly found themselves falling from that protective bulb, tumbling into a hole they couldn't pray themselves out of. It happened to me.

So for those of you who have circumstances that God hasn't changed; for those who have prayed and cried out to God for relief only to wake up to stumble over a fresh obstacle the next day; for those who wonder when this will end, when the Savior will reveal his deliverance - this year is a year I sat with you and said, I am here too. I have no answers, but I am here with you, and my faith still remains. God is who he says he is. The evening sunset declares it. His intricate design of every cell in our bodies magnifies his brilliance. He is mysterious and incomprehensible. All I know is that the more I desire to know him and the closer I want to draw, the harder life seems to get, and the more pain I feel. And yet, that place in my heart that should be hardened, bitter, and resentful is still a wide open wound, throbbing with even greater hunger for his love.

I realize more than ever how real and subversive and subtle evil is. And along with that knowledge is my need for someone powerful enough, loving enough, wise enough to help me. The temptation to turn to a counterfeit is crushing at times. Just feed that immediate need with a person or show or celebrity who can make you feel better, but they are shadows and disappointments in the end.

I can't explain it, but Jesus is somehow with me, especially in the lonely nights. He's not fixing the situation but is slowly changing my heart. He's the only one who overcame death, and he invites me with all my questions, with my secret doubts, with my shameful angry outbursts and confusion to have breakfast with him just like Peter who failed. Without judgment, he receives me, understands, and encourages me to keep going, to keep feeding lambs and tending sheep.

In a year of questions, I need to cling to the One who is the answer.

"The pupil dilates in the darkness and in the end finds light, just as the soul dilates in misfortune and in the end finds God."
-Victor Hugo (Les Miserables)

Fighting Discouragement: "I'm Not Making Any Progress."

This summer I tuned in on the Discovery Channel to witness Nik Wallenda walk across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope. He was 1500 feet above the Colorado River, and as he walked the quarter mile distance, his view looking down rarely altered. Watching his own journey across that wire shortly after the event, Nik commented repeatedly on his discouragement over the remarkable lack of progress he felt he was making.

Stepping out over the canyon at 48 seconds into the walk, Nik saw the river and rocks below him.

After 3 minutes, he said of this view, "It shows how slow my progress was. It looks like I haven't even moved. We keep showing the camera that goes straight down to the bottom of the canyon, and it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere."

He repeated after 4 minutes, "There it is again. I haven't gone anywhere. Looks like we're going back to the same clip over and over again. Maybe it was a treadmill wire. Doesn't look like I'm moving."

Finally, at almost 10 minutes, he confessed, "The whole time I was out there, I just felt like I wasn't making any progress. I felt like the camera that was looking down. I felt like I was walking in one place for about three-quarters of the walk. I was trying to count the pendulums, but I couldn't concentrate enough to count them. I wasn't sure - I lost count - I wasn't sure where I was at. I knew that I had 20 of them to cross, and I was hoping - to get - once I got to the middle, I wanted my dad to tell me, and he never did. And I was going to ask him, but then I was scared to ask him because I was scared I wasn't halfway across."


As I listened to Nik describe the difficulties of the wire whipping back and forth, the utter dryness of this mouth, and the sudden gusts of strong winds that seemed to come out of nowhere, it reminded me of how discouraged I have felt at times in my own journey. When I have a bad health day or become overwhelmed by the lack of change in my circumstances, it's easy to feel how Nik did up on that "treadmill wire." I want to know from God if I've made it halfway through specific trials or if I'm in for even more trouble, but I'm almost too scared to ask.

As Nik continued to watch his walk, he began to describe how things improved when he was able to refocus his eyes from the canyon bottom to his destination.

About four minutes before the end he said, "I was able to relax here because rather than looking down at the wire and looking at those rocks crossing back and forth in front of me, I actually was able to look up to the land. I had something more solid to focus on that I could work off of."

This refocusing of his eyes made me think of four ways I could apply his experience to my own perspective.

1) If I keep my eyes down, looking at my problems, gauging progress by all the days of struggle that seem to blend together, I will be disoriented and discouraged. But if I fix my eyes (2 Cor 4:17-18) on the finish line of heaven, I will have a solid, unchanging goal which makes all the world's happiness pale in comparison. In order to hold on to sure hope and maintain proper perspective, I must mentally focus on my eternal destination, not my earthly obstacles.

2) When the wind of adversity surges ups suddenly and slows my progress to a standstill, it can remind me of my own powerlessness. However, Jesus used his sovereign power to calm the wind (Mark 6:48-52) for his disciples who had been straining to row against it all night long. When I can't change a situation, I must trust that the winds which disrupt my plans and progress are under his total authority. He uses the adversity for my ultimate good and then calms it at the proper time.

3) And when the cable of stability whips out from under me, threatening to topple my confidence, I must listen for the voice of my Father who is guiding me from the other side. Just like Nik's dad who spoke direction in his ear during tense times, God can see and know things I can't possibly understand from my position. He is my supplier of wisdom (James 1:5) when my steps feel uncertain and shaky.

4) Finally, I learned that my progress in trial depends on whether I choose to keep taking those small, sometimes painfully hard steps of obedience in the right direction. Choosing to love when it hurts, choosing to forgive when I've been wronged, choosing to continue on after a setback rather than giving up - in all ways I must press on (Phil 3:12-14).

Though the pace seems painfully slow and the winds and upsets unrelenting at times, the struggle will be well worth it if we focus our minds on heaven, trust with our soul in the authority of Christ, listen with our hearts to God's wisdom, and choose with our will to press on in faith. In this way, we will share in the victory Jesus died to give 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 12:2-3

For those who have cried in church

It was Saturday evening, and I had just had it. Up the night before till 6 AM with sleep disrupted, feeling frustrated, sick, trapped, irritable, and angry. I lost my patience. I yelled and exited with a punctuated slap of the garage door opener. It was another meltdown under the stress of the past 8 years of intense trial (15 years of losses, hardship, and illness). I haven't had a normal life for so long; I was physically and emotionally depleted, and it was too much that day. The pot boiled over.

Usually manageable at home, this presented a new challenge. I was on my way to church. Smiling strangers, social greetings, joyful songs - I was slightly nauseated at the thought of being in public with the knowledge that I couldn't contort my face to cover this heartache.

I had to make the choice to take that next step. And so I decided to just show up. Eyes down, sitting, closed off, but there nonetheless.

In the past, I've frequently encountered obstacles to going to church. Unless the issue was insurmountable, I knew it was worth pushing through. There was often reward on the other side. This time was no different. It's so strange how there can be a battle to get to a building 15 minutes away, but when that building can be a source of healing, can draw me closer to Jesus, and can help others, the struggle takes on a new, higher meaning.

So for those who have felt the sting of sorrowful tears in public, who couldn't put on a happy face, who have felt so alone in a pew while everyone else seemed to have it all together, this was part of my prayer two days later.

And just when I hit the bottom of myself, when tears are rolling down my cheeks in church and I hunch like I'm praying because I can't bear to sing - you surround me with your Spirit, and you know. You know I can't smile or sing because my world is in pieces and I have no mask left to play the church game. So it's you who steps in and covers me.

Everyone stands, and I am acutely aware their worlds aren't caving in, but they are singing for me, surrounding me with your Spirit when my own heart can't sing. I question if I'm just making that up to feel better, but the thought passes as I hear, "it's all about you; yes, it's all about you." And somewhere in between, "from my heart to the heavens" and "Jesus be the center," my soul chose to mouth the words "It's all about you," as if my jaw and tongue were rusted, old machinery, lurching and grinding without oil, but moving in the quietest praise, the most wrenching praise I can give.

I clutched the damp Kleenex tightly and thought of the victory of praising you in the pain, of the fact I could have turned around twice, of how I'd won just by getting there. I thought of how the Enemy must hate my giving and perseverance.

Then the pastor read in James 5 about patience in suffering. And you reminded me gently again that it's all about you (not me). He reminded us that Job had the chance to love you for you - and that we may only get one chance in this life to do the same - to love you for you, not just your gifts.

And although this test is evil and fierce, in your hands it is goodness for me - in my heart, for others, for my future, for eternity. In your hands, you can (and do) redeem evil. And you have made me capable of faith, of knowing you.

You've given me love and have helped me through illness to a better place. I have so much because you gave the gracious gift of your Son, and you forgive my complaining and self-pity. You love me, and though I struggle, by your strength I will rise, and my faith will be proven as gold through the fire.

Don't give up in the face of isolation, fear, worry, and pain - even pain that goes on for years or for decades - because God is in the business of redeeming pain when we trust him with it. He is worthy of our love even when we can't feel anything good. In those weak moments, remember that it's all about him.

You keep track of all my sorrows.
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
    You have recorded each one in your book.

My enemies will retreat when I call to you for help.
    This I know: God is on my side!
Psalm 56:8-9 (NLT)

YouTube Worship Part II

Several years ago, I posted this song because it was so uplifting and helpful for me when I wanted to redirect my thoughts from my problems back onto God.

This new worship song is one I heard about a year ago on TV, but at the time, I couldn't find it on youtube. I've been listening to it repeatedly this weekend. When I'm struggling with doubt and discouragement, these lyrics inspire me to remember and worship the true character of the great I AM.



"I AM" - By Daniel Crews and choir at First Baptist Church of Atlanta.

Lyrics:
I am the LORD
I'm the Almighty God
I am the one for whom nothing is too hard
I am the Shepherd
I am the Door
I am the good news to the bound and the poor

I AM, I AM, I AM, I AM

I am the righteous one
I am the Lamb
I am the ram in the bush for Abraham
I am the ultimate sacrifice for sin
I am your Redeemer, Beginning and the End

I AM, I AM, I AM, I AM

I am Jehovah
I am the King
I am Messiah, David's offspring
I am your High Priest
I am the Christ
I am your Resurrection
I am the Life

I AM, I AM, Jesus said: "I AM," (I AM)

I am the bread
I am the wine
I am your future, so leave your past behind
I am the one in the midst of two and three
I am your tabernacle
I am your jubilee

I AM, I AM, Jesus said: "I AM," (I AM)

I am the bread
I am the wine
I am your future, so leave your past behind
I am the one in the midst of two and three
I am your tabernacle
I am your jubilee

(I AM), I AM, He is the great (I AM), (I AM)

I am hope
I am peace
I am joy
I am rest
I am your comfort and relief from your stress

I am strength
I am faith
I am love
I am power
And today I am your freedom,
This very hour!

I AM, Jesus said: "I AM," (I AM), (I AM)

[I am hope
I am peace
I am joy
I am rest
I am your comfort and relief from your stress

I am strength
I am faith
I am love
I am power
And today I am your freedom,
This very hour!] x2

I AM, I AM, Jesus is (I AM), I AM

He is the great I AM!