Our Eyes are On You

 Matt Vorhees, Senior Pastor of Riverlakes Church posted this blog post on our church Facebook page on Saturday, March 21, 2020. He has graciously given me permission to share his words with you on my blog. I hope his words give you hope during these tough times: 

​We are undoubtedly living in unprecedented times in our society, but here's what I love about the Bible. We have so many stories of God's people walking through similar kinds of uncertainty that show us how his people looked to Him.

An especially powerful story is that of King Jehoshaphat in 2 Chronicles 20. Here's the setting: "Some men came and told Jehoshaphat, 'A great multitude is coming against you from Edom, from beyond the sea; and, behold, they are in Hazazon-tamar' (that is, Engedi). Then Jehoshaphat was afraid and set his face to seek the Lord..." - 2 Chron. 20:2-3 

Though the circumstances are different, Jehoshaphat was feeling what a lot of us are feeling right now. A visible horde of enemies was marching against Judah, and they were already in the land, as close as the southern oasis of Engedi. But unlike Jehoshaphat, the horde we're facing is invisible. It's not just out there somewhere, it's here, on our shores and in our community. And it's causing a lot of fear. There's nothing wrong with feeling afraid. At some level, we can't control that. But when those feelings arise, what do we do with them? Where do we go with them? To whom do we turn? Jehoshaphat models what, where and to whom we must take our fears, he "set his face to seek the Lord." But there is something particular in Jehoshaphat's public prayer before the people that I want to draw your attention to: 

"For we are powerless against this great horde that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” - 2 Chron. 20:12

We are powerless against the spread of COVID-19 and the impact it's going to have. Social distancing, home isolation, testing and treatments are important and will help, but they can only do so much. Many businesses and organizations, including the church are asking how we can continue our work in light of the many restrictions. In a lot of ways, we feel like Jehoshaphat, "we don't know what to do." Again, these are unprecedented times. 

We may not know what to do, but we know who to turn to. "Our eyes are on you." We can follow the Lord into the unknown of the coming weeks and months, trusting that our God is sovereign and that He has good plans for His church. We can be salt and light in the midst of the uncertainty and chaos (Matt. 5:13-16). We may not know what's going to happen, but we know the One who will lead us through it. Jesus defeated the true horde that stood opposed to us: Satan, Sin and Death, so that in the middle of this crisis, we can be sure that He is with us through it all (Psalm 23:4). 

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, 

for you are with me; 

your rod and your staff, 

they comfort me."

Living in Desperate Places

One of our pastors recently preached on John 4:46-54. This is an account of an official who was so desperate to save his son's life that he walked a marathon to beg Jesus to come and heal him. Pastor Matt described the man as being in a desperate place--we all know that place. It is where life, as we know it, has been turned upside down and we found ourselves at the end of the proverbial rope, feeling powerless and unsteady. It is that place that we know only God can help us. As I listened to the sermon, I thought about a few of the desperate places I've been in that were similar to this man's.

One of the desperate places I experienced occurred the day I turned ten years old. My family was planning on celebrating my birthday, but an unexpected phone call radically changed our plans. My mom's aunt had had a serious stroke and was in intensive care in another town. Our celebration turned into several intense weeks as we traveled most evenings to the hospital she was in. Because they did not let children visit patients, my brother, sister, and I either sat in the car or in the lobby waiting while my parents and grandmother visited my aunt and uncle. The first night we went, my uncle came downstairs to visit with us kids and he cried. It was the first time I had seen him cry and his emotional pain scared me. And each time the phone rang at our house, my mom feared the worst and ran to answer it, choking back sobs before she knew who was calling.

I now know I experienced powerlessness as I watched the adults ride an emotional roller coaster that was full of ups and downs and scary turns. As a ten year old, I couldn't do anything to make my aunt get well and I couldn't do anything to take the pain away the adults were experiencing. All I could do was pray the simple prayers of a ten-year-old heart. I don't remember the prayers I prayed, but I do remember wanting her well and for things to be like they were before she got sick. I also remember desperately wanting God. I remember peace flowing through me as He met me in the fear of death, the fear of possible loss, the anxiety of seeing my caretakers hurting, and in my admitting I didn't know what to do.

The second desperate place that came to mind was when our son had an ATV accident. I met him at the hospital and we were told his collar bone was broken in several places. He had told the triage nurse he felt like he was bleeding inside and she noted it in his chart, but the ER doctor dismissed it as radiating pain from his collar bone. They sent us home and several days later he came out of his room an ashen gray. This time the ER doctor discovered his spleen had ruptured and his belly had filled with blood. When they wheeled him away, we assured him we would see him when he woke up, secretly fearing the worst. I was desperate and knew there was nothing I could do to guarantee the outcome I wanted. I was drawn to God and afraid of Him at the same time. I knew He had the power to heal him but in HIs sovereignty He also had the right not to. I was too tied up in knots too pray eloquent prayers, but felt His presence growing bigger, ever reminding me He was with us. There were complications and he remained in ICU for 12 days and the hospital floor for another 4. I left to shower and walk during the nurses' shift changes. In the shower tears flowed freely and on walks the prayers flowed directly from my heart to God's. I knew God was near.

The third desperate place that came to mind was when my daughter-in-law was put in the hospital on bed rest during her pregnancy. She and my son were on the other side of the country, making daily decisions that no parents should ever have to make to get their child here safely. As my son kept me posted, I felt the same feelings of powerlessness I had felt as a child. All I could do was listen and tell him I was available to him anytime he needed me. I daily poured out my heart to God, telling Him everything I longed for in regard to my kids and their daughter. And God met me there in the middle of passionate prayers. We were at the beach when my son called with the news that they had no more choices left, but to deliver our granddaughter early. She was three months a head of schedule and a very sick little baby. Our son's voice was so solemn as he gave us the news. My heart ached for them and I stayed up all night praying for them as a family, asking God to intervene and to let her live. Our son called back the next morning and said the x-rays that morning showed no sign of the infection that was there the night before. There was hope even though the next couple of months were critical for her. But our little granddaughter held on and was soon thriving and her parents found the strength to survive the ups and down of preemie life.

There have been several other desperate places for me. I could recount them, but for now they are not as important as the lessons I learned from them. I learned that God can always be found in desperate places, but to find Him I had to choose to lean into Him through radically honest prayers. I learned that desperate places have been the fertile soil for my faith to grow exponentially as those places brought me face to face with what I believe about myself and what I believe about my God. I learned that there is a very real Enemy and if I don't continuously pray, he preys on me, trying to convince me that desperate places are proof that God stopped loving me. I learned that deep intimacy with God happened as I leaned into Him in the hard, praising Him for who He is and what He has done, what He is doing, and what He will do in the future. I learned that my faith was purified in the hard as it brought me face to face with my limitations against the backdrop of His pure character and His powerful attributes, essentially reminding me He is God and I am not. I learned desperate places purify my heart as I have to decided if I really want Jesus or if I just want His benefits. I learned desperate places expose my tendency to make idols out of the things I desperately want and that idolatry is broken when I am put in a place that I have to give the desires of my heart to the Lord.

As I sat listening to the sermon, many people came to mind--people who have experienced desperate places in the past--people who stood over child sized coffins weeping, people who dealt with cancer in that came in its ugliest forms, people who suffered through horrendous abuses whose cries went unheard, people whose lives were turned upside down by someone's decision to drink and drive, people who watched their hometowns burn to the ground, people who watched homes being swept away by floods, and people who were suddenly laid off, wondering how they could feed their families. I wondered what lessons they learned about themselves and God. I wondered how they survived their desperate places on a daily basis and how their faith grew.

I thought of people who are currently living long in desperate places--people living with debilitating pain of chronic illnesses no one can see, people watching as their loved ones’ minds slip away, others watching loved ones with sharp minds whose bodies begin to cease functioning, those living with infertility and unfulfilled longings, displaced people who are beginning the long process of rebuilding, and those who suffer in the aftermath of mass shootings with PTSD and flashbacks they cannot control.

I also thought of those who will find themselves in desperate places this next year. Maybe they will be parents who will get that call from their soldier's commander because he won't be coming home because they sacrificed their life on the battle field. Maybe it will be the woman whose doctor calls to say her test is positive and the prognosis is serious. Maybe it will be the parents of a college student receiving news that their student has been missing for several days. Maybe it will be the business man whose auditor will tell him that someone swindled so much money from his company that bankruptcy is imminent. Maybe it will be the couple whose marriage begins to crumble under the weight of betrayal, untreated mental illness, or self destructive addictions.

I wonder, will they lean into Jesus or will they run from the very One who wants to minister to their heart? Will they see His infinite goodness or will they believe the lies the enemy speaks as he tries to destroy their faith and harden their tender hearts? I am praying for them because I know that as much as I care, we have a Savior that cares infinitely more who is longing to reveal Himself more fully to them. I know He is seeking to instill in them a hope big enough to allow them to fully live in the desperate places.

Living with the Hope of the Resurrection

As I was thinking about Easter and what it means to live with the hope of the resurrection, I thought of my sweet friend, Daphne, whom I’ve known for over thirty years. Five years ago, she and her husband Philip lost their oldest child in an accident. At the time, I was the administrative assistant in Dr. Norm Wright’s Trauma and grief class and I reached out to Daphne even though we were miles apart. Over these last five years she has shared her thoughts, feelings, and the lessons she has learned through her loss with me. What I love about Daphne is that she is transparent and honest about her thoughts and her feelings and she courageously reaches out when she needs support. I’ve been amazed at the strength and hope that she has and her willingness to revisit her own pain as she goes to other parents who have lost a child as she speaks hope into their lives when they most need it. I’ve been so blessed by our conversations that I asked her if she would share about living with the hope of the resurrection as a mom who has lost a child. She graciously agreed to do it. So, pull up a chair and sit a spell and read her story and hear her voice…   

The day Larry died was a beautiful sunny day. It was the weekend after spring break and we had all been together as a family since our oldest daughter, Mary, was home from Mississippi College. All four kids were looking forward to Saturday so they could celebrate Stephen's birthday mud riding at the lake bottom. After they left that afternoon, Philip and I decided it was too nice a day to work in the yard so we went for a walk together in the woods. We stopped in a place with huge pine trees and talked while staring up at the sky. I remember how peaceful, calm, and relaxing it was to just be lying there in the pine needles. We had great conversation and then decided to head back to the house, eat supper, and watch a movie. Phillip hopped in the shower while I got supper ready. I was just pulling it out of the oven when we got the first phone call from Stephen. I could tell by Phillip's voice and the look in his eyes that this was not a good call. He kept telling Stephen to calm down and that we were on our way. All Stephen told his dad was that Larry had a wreck and for us to please get there as soon as we could. Stephen knew at that time Larry was gone, but he didn't want to tell us that over the phone.

We grabbed a few things and left the house in a matter of minutes. Phillip got another call from Stephen and he assured him we were on our way and encouraged him to just be calm and pray. I got a call from Sally and I did the same. I happened to think to ask her who else was in the vehicle and that's when we found out about the other boys and Ashley. I told Sally to pray for her brother and Ash, try to be calm, and reminded her that we were on our way. We knew we would have very limited cell service so I made as many phone calls as I could until I lost service. Then I texted, "Don't know details.  Larry has had a bad wreck. Please pray and ask everybody you know to pray." I sent this text to as many people I could think of. I started getting text after text saying prayers were being lifted and a lot saying they were praying for peace for us. I have to admit, I was a little aggravated. I had asked my friends to pray for Larry and they were telling me that they were praying for me to have peace. This would all make since in just a little while. 

It was so quiet on that 45-minute drive. I continued to text and pray and let my mind wonder what the following days would include. I pictured ICU with Larry hooked to machines and possible broken bones. I would put that quickly out of my mind and asked God to help me handle whatever state we found Larry.

When we finally got there, we came upon over a mile of parked cars. It was dark so there was just a steady stream of lights. We drove in the left lane around the cars until we saw where Stephen was parked. It was very quiet. I was expecting sirens and chaos but it was all so calm. I opened my door and jumped out before Phillip came to a complete stop. He was finishing a conversation with Ashley's dad so he remained in the vehicle for just a few seconds longer than me. As I came around the back of the suburban I saw Stephen running towards me. He threw his arms around me, crying he said, "Mama, Larry is gone". We knew Ashley had been airlifted to Memphis, and Dusty was being carried to the hospital so I wasn't sure where "gone" was. I grabbed his face, looked him in the eyes and asked, "What are you telling me?" He then said, "Mama, Larry is dead." At that point, his legs gave out from under him and I had his entire weight in my arms. I held him up and kept him from falling to the ground. I asked who told him that and he said everybody. I thought he was just listening to bystanders talk and told him not to think that until we knew officially. I then looked for Sally and Mary. Phillip had gone over to see if he could get information about Larry. I finally had my children and Ashley's brother in a circle around me all hugging. I asked someone to please pray. I don't remember what was prayed but I do remember that I had a feeling of peace come over me like I had never experienced. As I stood there with my arms around my children I knew whatever happened, we were going to all be alright. 

It had gotten chilly so I sent someone to get a blanket out of our vehicle. Philip hadn't returned with any news so we sat quietly in the dark. It wasn't long until he came and knelt down in front of me and held my hand. 

My husband is a kind, considerate, and compassionate man. I'm not sure how he had composed himself in such a short amount of time. He had just seen our son and had identified his body and now he had the task of telling his family the news. He told me about the others involved in the wreck first. Then with so much tenderness in his eyes and voice, he apologized to me. He said, "I am so sorry, Daphne, but Larry didn't survive the accident." Time stopped.

I heard someone screaming and realized it was me. My mind spun out of control and I wailed. I'm not sure how long that went on. Phillip just held me there. All this time I had been wondering where Larry was and what was happening with him. Suddenly, an overwhelming peace came over me. My screaming was hushed instantly. I realized in that moment that I knew exactly where Larry was. It is an indescribable feeling to realize that one of your precious children is in the presence of his Savior. I sat in awe of this place. God had been here. 

In the days after the accident, so many little details of that night made so much more sense. My friends had prayed I would have peace. Those prayers were answered in the exact moment I needed them to be. Our days were now a bit chaotic, but God had given us such a peaceful afternoon to get our thoughts together. Thing after thing happened that reminded me of what a merciful, gracious, and loving God I have. How did people who don't have a relationship with God handle this kind of situation? It's unimaginable to me. 

Larry accepted Christ as his Savior when he was young. He understood that when Jesus died on the cross, that He died for him. Because of this, I know one day I will see my son again in heaven. That gives me so much comfort.

1 Thessalonians 4:13 states, "I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with him those who sleep in Jesus." What a blessing! Jesus died but he didn't stay that way. He arose from the dead. He conquered death. Not only that, the Bible also promises me that one day He's going to come back, "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words." (I Thessalonians 4:16-18 NKJV) 

I am indeed comforted by these words and live, looking forward to the day I'll see my son again. 

                                                     

                                                   Daphne McKibben

                                                            4/13/17

The Beauty of the Semicolon

Recently I wrote about the importance of the ampersand to me. Well, there is grammar symbol that is quite popular right now. This symbol is tiny, but the meaning behind the semicolon is huge. A semicolon is used in writing when an author could end a sentence, but chooses to keep going instead. It is a way of keeping one's thoughts informally separate, but connected. Project Semicolon began in 2013 when Amy Bleuel wanted to honor the father she lost to suicide. Even though she, herself, struggled with depression, she saw the semicolon as a symbol of hope. Soon others began using the semicolon symbol in recovery because they were fighting a battle with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicidal thoughts and their will to continue on. The semicolon symbolized their belief that this is not the end, but a new beginning. Even faith-based organizations are beginning to refer to the semicolon as a way of telling others, "My story (Your story) isn't over!"

As a survivor I battled hard with depression, negative thoughts, and an unrelenting eating disorder that manifested in every possible way. I remember so many times feeling hopeless and wishing life would end to end the struggle, yet, choosing to hang on by a thread. And in choosing to hang on by a thread, I always found God was faithful to show me there was meaning in life after the hopelessness I experienced. And my story, His story in me, continued. 

As I've contemplated the whole movement of the semicolon I've realized the Scriptures are full of semicolons--you know those moments where those living the stories felt hopeless but God intervened with a God semicolon, providing hope, showing that the story continued. 

I don't know about you, but when I read about Eve with Adam by her side, talking with the Serpent, my chest tightens and everything in me wants to scream, "Stop! Don't listen to the Deceiver! Adam, stop her!" But she bit, and for a few moments I feel so hopeless. It could have been the end of the story, but God sought them out and sacrificed animals to clothe them, promising to send His Son to save them. And the Story continued.

In Genesis we read the story of Noah. The earth was full of sin and every thought of man was evil to the core. It was the end of the end, but God called on Noah to build and ark because He was going to judge the earth. Noah obeyed and through his actions He preached. Then the sky darkened, God shut the door, and the boat rocked as the floods came, destroying all life outside the ark. Eventually the lands dried and God gave Noah and his family a rainbow, a visual semicolon in the sky, to remind them of His mercy and grace and to remind us He saves His own through judgment. And the Story continued.

Oh, and there was Joseph, who was favored by his father, but despised by his brothers who sold him into slavery. He wound up in Egypt and chose to live a life full of integrity, only to be falsely accused and imprisoned. I am sure he felt like he reached the period in his life story several times; but each time God preserved his life and gave him dreams Joseph alone could interpret, and as a result he was able to preserve the life of the Egyptians through a long drought. Then one day it became obvious that the period he thought had ended his old life, when his brothers sold him, was really another semicolon in God's story. God used what his brothers meant for evil to preserve the life of Joseph and the nation of Israel. And the Story continued.    

There was Naomi who lost her husband and both of her sons while living in a foreign land during a drought. She grieved long and hard and the grief turned into depression and bitterness. She returned to her homeland for the end of her story; but God gives her a semicolon in the form of faithful daughter-in-law who was accepted by a kinsman redeemer and provided Naomi with heirs to love and a grandchild to be in the lineage of the Savior. And the Story continued. 

There was Elijah who God called to confront Ahab and the prophets of Baal who were stealing the hearts of His people. Elijah challenged them to a spiritual duel. The 450 prophets of Baal set their altar and called on their god to ignite the altar. They cried out from morning until noon and their god didn't answer. So, they continued to cry aloud and frantically cut themselves with swords and lances to prove their devotion, and he didn't answer. To the people who were following Baal and to the people who were torn between Jehovah and Baal it had to have been a moment they thought their story was ending; but God revealed Himself as Elijah called the people to himself. He built an altar in the name of the Lord with twelve stones and surrounded it with a deep trench. He put wood on the altar and cut the bull in pieces and laid it on the altar. Next he had them pour 12 jars of water over the offering, saturating the offering and wood and filling the trench with water. Elijah called upon the Lord so the people would recognize Him and turn their hearts back to Him and the fire of the Lord consumed the burnt offering, the wood, the stones, the dust, and the water. God showed Himself to be the true God of Israel. And the story continued.

There are other semicolon stories we could consider. There is the story of King David who had several moments he thought his life would end at the hand of Saul. He thought his kingship could end in moral failure when he abused his power, both taking another man's wife and murdering him in the aftermath. Emotional hurts like the death of his son and the problems between his children could have eaten the hope out of any parents’ heart, but God intervened, calling him the man after God's own heart. We could look at the story of Esther, Daniel and friends, and other prophets sent to Israel to warn them of sin and judgement. But instead, I want to move to the most significant semicolon in history, Jesus. 

Jesus came on the scene after a long period of silence in which God provided no prophets. I can't help but wonder if some feared God was done with them and viewed the long silence as a period to God's dealing with Israel. Then, God gave them what at first seemed like an unassuming semicolon in the form of a babe born in a manger. He grew. He taught. He called disciples. He confronted hypocritical, spiritually dead religious leaders. He cast out demons. He calmed angry seas. He healed the sick. He gave hope until He was taken captive, illegally tried, stripped, beaten, mocked, crowned with thorns, spit upon, and hung upon a cross for all the world to see. The world grew dark as our sin was laid on Him. And He died, but God! God, finding His sacrificial death a satisfactory payment for our sin raised Him from the grave, giving us all the living hope of the semicolon. 

The living hope of the semicolon means there is no sin too big or too dirty His blood can't cover it. Redemption means there is still a sense of purpose and meaning after moral failure. There is still life to be lived with joy after harsh painful losses. There is hope after each and every relapse. There is meaning for life lived with the anguish of mental illness. There is hope after broken relationships through reconciliation or with the invitation to repentance and restoration. And even in a life racked with a terminal illness there is hope, because for the believer death is the semicolon and the rest of the story is lived in glory--glory where there will be no more pain, no more sin, and no more tears. The beauty of the semicolon is that it places us face to face with Jesus who is the author of the redemption stories we live. 

Navigating Disgusting Times in a Godly Way

I was going to blog more on things God never said. But last week Trump's video stirred my heart in another direction. I've been victimized by that type of behavior. To get to my locker in high school, I had to pass a line of boys leaning against the wall looking girls over as they passed. And as the girl's PE teacher's assistant I was left alone in her office and several football players came in to talk. At first the conversation was fun, but it turned ugly as they crudely discussed someone's sexual conquest in graphic terms. I tried to take a stand, but the talk continued. I finally looked at one of the guys I respected who had a girlfriend who was beautiful inside and out and asked, "How would you feel if they were talking about your girlfriend like this?" He hung his head. So, I shook my head and went to the library. The teacher told my mom I disappeared and my mom told me not to leave like that. What my parents and teacher didn't know is I had already experienced sexual assault--the first time at the age of four and the guy's comments fed the shame birthed through abuse and fueled the hatred I felt toward my body. That shame that hindered me from feeling righteous anger that could have enabled me to more assertively confront the "Locker Room Talk."

Then during college our campus had several rapes reported and I was nervous when I left class after dark and walked to my dorm alone. One night when I got near the cafeteria, a group of athletes had gathered and one whistled and I started walking faster. Then the whole group started whistling and calling out things I didn't want to hear so I didn't respond and they began to curse me, getting louder and more verbally aggressive. During that time dates also ended in wrestling matches where "no's" weren't respected and shaming words were spewed when I wanted to go home. Guys exposed themselves and girls were groped in cafeteria lines. I didn't invite unwanted attention. I didn't give consent for touch. I didn't ask to hear the crude things spewed at me. I know women who have experienced this in work places and in churches as well. For awhile, I believed being born woman meant I had to bear with men's bad behavior and assume partial or full responsibility for it.

Even after marriage my husband's dad made comments about women's bodies and about my body in particular. His were along the line of breast size, booty size, and being too fat--too fat at 120, too fat pregnant, and too fat post pregnancy. People said it was no big deal, just to forgive him. But it never stopped and the problem was that he was constantly looking at my body, leaving me uncomfortable being a woman. That is not okay! I also had a male doctor grope a breast as he commented about the milk that size breast could produce. I had another male doctor whose time was more valuable than my comfort who sewed me up after childbirth without numbing me. He ignored my pleas to stop as he caused more traumatizing pain to an area of my body already hurting. A year later I had a panic attack as I walked in for my yearly check up and left. I avoided doctors for years until friends helped me find compassionate men and women and counselors taught me how to change doctors when doctors didn't listen to my voice.

Please hear my words! 

EVERY LEER, EVERY WORD INAPPROPRIATELY SPOKEN, EVERY ACT OF ABUSE, AND EVERY ACT AND ATTITUDE THAT SHOWED A LACK OF COMPASSION BY PROFESSIONAL MEN MATTERED. 

It mattered because it shaped my view of God, others, and myself in negative ways. It impacted my ability to give and receive love. It impaired my ability to trust even good men and women who meant no harm. The rape culture took away my voice and made me feel unsafe in my own skin. It hindered my ability to embrace the beauty of being created a woman and all of the joy that comes with that.    

I for one am not surprised by Trump's tape; it totally fits with the character he has had on display over the years. We must remember Trump's words were more than words; they were a revelation of sexual assault. He is either lying now or he in some sick way thought he would look better in another man's eyes if he bragged about assaulting women. Either is sick. I find myself wondering why a guy like him and a man like my father-in-law think they are qualified to judge the value and worth of women by appearance.

We've had a lot of bad behavior from presidents over the years. So, I get why some think its okay to vote for him. But I become enraged when people, especially believers, negate what he said to justify voting for him. I get even more enraged when they try to guilt, manipulate, and shame others into voting for him as well, especially when throw in that Trump claims he is against abortion. As a survivor, I will not let anyone emotionally or spiritually abuse me by using guilt, shame, fear, or manipulation to get me to vote for any candidate.

I will pray and I will seek God's wisdom and I will vote as He leads me. I wish we could have healthy, godly  conversations about political issues so we can solve horrible problems like abortion, illegal immigration, terrorism, and refugees in need. I wish we could share information without coloring it and misquoting people and spinning the truth to get votes. Yesterday I listened to two videos side by side of Trump and Clinton speaking on immigration and the truth is they agree on that issue when they are not misquoting each other or putting words into each others mouths!

There is a high correlation between abortion and sexual abuse, rape, and the demeaning of women. I hate abortion with a passion. I held my granddaughter when she weighed two pounds and was fighting for her life, wondering how anyone could believe a baby at six months gestation is only tissue. Her gold-spun hair, her precious personality, her expressions, and her fight to live were proof she was human, not tissue. Her coming out of the womb didn't change her from a blob to a baby and I hate it that women are being lied to about that. There are a lot of things we need to change to change our abortion culture. One of them is the rape culture in which we live.

We desperately need men who passionately love God to rise up with integrity and pursue purity to say no more to this rape culture! We need men to understand the rape culture is not harmless! We need them to commit to treating women with kindness, respect, and care. We need them to hold themselves and each other accountable to godly character, behavior, and conversations. We need them to obey the Scriptures and speak words that build up those who hear. We need them to realize it is more manly to respect women than it is to participate in vulgar speech. We need them to realize they are never more attractive than when they teach their sons to respect their moms, sisters, daughters, grandmothers, and granddaughters. We need men to rise up and teach their sons that they aren't victims to their bodies and they can be attracted to women and still treat them with respect and remain pure. Believers don't have the right to ask for sex before marriage and sure don't have the right to touch without consent. As God's image bearers, men do not have the right to look women up and down and leer at them and make lewd comments. We need men to show their daughters how good men act so they don't settle for anything less than a good man.

We women are not off the hook either. We are buying into the rape culture when we get our value and worth from the attention of men. We need to go against culture and carry ourselves in ways that commands respect. We need to guard our hearts and be sure our behavior and words gives a clear messages for our desire for pure, godly relationships. We need to rise up and teach out daughters to find their worth and value in Christ, not in boys who aren't mature enough to always make the best decisions. We need to protect them from abuse. We need to believe them when abuse occurs and care for them even if it exposes family, church, friends, or teachers so they can move past it and not let it define them. We need to teach our daughters that it is okay for girls to say, "No!" It is okay for girls to break up with a boy who is pressuring them. It is okay to ask to be taken home if boundaries aren't respected. We need to teach daughters that no job and no man is worth selling out our integrity. We need to teach our daughters that it is not rude to disengage from conversation that aren't safe and godly. We need to teach our daughters to not to contribute to the tearing down of women by participating in bullying. We need to teach our daughters to respect their fathers, grandfathers, brothers and sons. We need to teach our daughters that it is more godly to work together at changing the rape culture than finding power over it by becoming abusers.

We need to teach our sons and our daughters that men and women were created to complement each other in function and in relationship, but that we were created to find our completion only in Christ.

So, how do we navigate these disgusting times? We stand for truth--all of it! We seek God's wisdom. We don't guilt or shame others into voting our way and we don't let others guilt or shame us into voting in a way that violates our conscience. Finally, we choose to trust God's sovereignty.

As Max Lucaddo said in a recent post, on November 9 God will still be in charge and His throne will still be occupied. His providence never has, doesn't now, and never will depend on the president of the United States. God has used pagan kings in the past and can certainly use pagan presidents in ways we can't even imagine. He has already used Trump's own words to help scores of women find their voice and tell their stories of abuse for the first time. God can humble prideful leaders as he did Nebuchadnezzar.

Resting in God's sovereignty restores a sense of peace. It restores peace in our relationships when we accept that God is sovereign no matter how you or I vote and that neither of our votes will dethrone the King of kings. God is the only being worth trusting and maybe, just maybe, one of the reasons we're stuck with two immoral people vying for office is that God wants us to see His goodness, wants to see where our lack of integrity can take us, and wants us to recognize He is God and they are not. We do have the responsibility to educate ourselves best we can, but the bottom line is: God is still in control! To live like I believe that truth is the way for me to navigate these disgusting times in a godly way.

Finding Purpose in Pain

I was an adult when I realized there is purpose in pain. I first noticed it in the physical realm when one of our little ones had an ear infection. I picked him up from the church nursery and he was his usual cheerful self. But, then I noticed this ugly mess oozing from his ear. The doctor said the membrane holding his ear drum had ruptured and the infection was oozing from behind it. I told her I didn't even realize he was in pain and she said she believed me because his other ear was ready to rupture and most kids with ears like his were screaming in pain. Yet, he acted like he wasn't experiencing pain. I realized then that physical pain could be good. It can signal an infection or a wound that needs treatment. The pain of a slight cut can keep us from slicing off a whole finger and an irritated  eye can keep us from permanently damaging a cornea.

Over time I also came to realize emotional pain can also be good. I went through several years of recovery work for an eating disorder and during that time I visited many painful memories. As I journaled letters to God about pain uncovered, I realized the same God who had allowed the deep pain was the same God who was loving me with a love deep enough to heal it. I also learned a lot about my heart and my sin and my God in that place. Since that time I've reread many stories in the Bible and become more aware of the painful places in which the people lived and the began to look for His purpose in the pain they experienced.

For example, There was Sarai and Abram who suffered the heart-wrenching pain of infertility while living in the midst of a pagan culture that worshiped false gods of fertility. Even after God called them out and promised them a son, they lived with their pain of longing--longing so painful they devised plans to help God fulfill His promise. But God had them live in their place of longing until they fully believed God was who He said He was--the life-giving God, the Keeper of promises. At the right time God resurrected their aged bodies to conceive, carry, and nurse a tiny man child called, "Laughter." God wanted them to know Him and He wanted their hearts undivided. So, He had them sitting in the pain long enough for their unbelief  buried deep to bubble up, allowing a firm belief to take root. He had them sit in the pain long enough that His power could be displayed, proving stone-cold idols don't give life--He does!

And there was the deceiver, Jacob, who had to flee after his deceiving enraged his brother. God said his brother would serve him and, like Abram, Jacob wanted to help God make it happen. He ended up in a painful place, working for seven years for a bride he loved only to have his father-in-law give him a taste of deceit by substituting his older daughter as a bride. So, Jacob worked another seven years for the daughter he loved and another six for a flock to call his own while he lived in the messiness of a two wife family. The deceit he experienced was a mirror of his own deceitfulness, revealing to him the pain he inflicted on his brother. God let Jacob sit in that painful place, dealing with a difficult person to show him something about his sin and his heart and to prepare him for the long journey home. His painful place was not proof of God's desertion, it was proof of His love. God wanted him to experience the beauty that comes with humility. He wanted him to draw near to Him in faith, see that God could fulfill His Words without his help. God is good and it is His goodness that led Jacob to repent and in this case the goodness that would draw Jacob to His heart and the center of His will came in the form of the discomfort of seeing his sin mirrored.

And there was a lady I've come to love--the precious Samaritan lady Jesus met at the well. She was living in a pain-filled place, having been married five times and having each marriage end as she was dragged to the middle of town and declared unfit. Five times she'd been crushed by rejection and five times publicly labeled "not good enough." She'd was unable to live down her reputation and her loneliness ran deep, being ostracized by a community who judged her and made her the focus of gossip to deflect from shortcomings of their own. But Jesus sought her out at the right time when she was at the end of herself and the pain of her unmet needs ran so deep that she knew He and only He could meet her there.

I am thankful the Bible is honest about the stories people lived, especially the painful places in which they landed. The enemy wants us to believe pain is proof that God doesn't care. But, His Word shows repeatedly He sees us and He walks with us us through those tough places. He witnesses every tear spilled and every tear choked back. He's listening to every word cried out and every silent prayer our hearts can't find words to express. It is His goodness that allows us to come and to sit in the painful places--

    --places designed to expose unbelief and mature faith
    --places designed to allow His character and power to shine
    --places designed to expose and excise sin
    --places designed to bring us to the end of ourselves
    --places designed to surface longings etched deeply in hearts by God
    --places designed to show us the purpose of our pain
    --places designed to draw us to the center of His will and His heart.

Maybe one of the reasons God chose not to remove pain from this life is so that you and I can understand the love of God through the pain of the cross. It was at Calvary that Christ was beaten for us. It was at Calvary that He bore the shame for the sin we commit and the pain that that sin inflicts on Him and others. It was at Calvary that Christ died so that He could exchange our filthy rags for His righteousness. God is the author of redemption stories, not fairy tales. Every redemption story leads us back to Christ, where we have the joy of finding purpose in pain.

Suffering Well-- Part 2: A Man Like Joseph

There is a man named Jacob whose family was one hot mess. To start with he had fallen in love with a woman and worked seven years to marry her. But his father-in-law substituted his older daughter for the bride and he had to work another seven years for the one he loved. For several years the loved was barren and the unloved wife was birthing sons to earn love. Eventually there were twelve sons in all--two from the loved and 10 from the unloved.

So the family had two wives vying for one man's affection and Jacob who himself made some serious parenting mistakes. He loved one son, Joseph, more than his other sons and he made him a colorful coat, conveying his favoritism. Second, when Jacob sent his older sons out to tend sheep, he sent
Joseph to check on them and the reports he gave Jacob weren't always favorable and who likes a  tattle tale?.

Then there was a matter of dreams. God gave Joseph dreams, indicating his brothers would all bow in submission to him. Being 17, he did what teens would do--he bragged. In the midst of a family with two wives competing, a dad with rotten parenting skills, a son prone to bragging, and slew of sinful natures smoldering, the sibling rivalry grew into a great big, ugly hatred. 

After the coat giving, the dream bragging, and the hatred growing, Jacob sent Joseph once again to check on his brothers. When they saw him coming, they plotted to kill him and planned to tell their dad he was killed by an animal. But one brother with a smidgen  of integrity left suggested they  throw him in a pit instead. When Joseph arrived, they stripped him of his identity as the favored one when they stole his coat. They threw him into a pit and sat down to eat, which showed just how hard their hearts had become and how deeply rooted their hatred was When a caravan traveling to Egypt came, they pulled Joseph from the pit and sold him as a slave, showing his bloodied coat to their dad and Jacob grieved the grief parents grieve on losing a child.

That seems like enough hurt for one person to go through for a lifetime. But, there was more suffering in the story God penned. Joseph was bought by Potiphar, the captain of the guard and  Potiphar realized God was with Joseph and put him over his whole house. Potiphar's wife tries to seduce him and he runs away as she grabs his outer garment. Angered by  rejection,  she claimed he  attacked her and her lie lands Joseph in prison. He rose to leadership in the prison and ruled with integrity over other prisoners. Two prisoners dreamed dreams Joseph interpreted. One was released and promised to remember him, but didn't. Not until Pharaoh dreamed dreams no one in Egypt could  interpret. The freed prisoner tells about Joseph and Joseph is summoned to interprets the dreams that revealed seven years of plenty would be followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh makes Joseph a ruler and tells him to prepare Egypt for the famine and he does.

As I read, I wished the story were written by a woman because a woman would have told us what Joseph thought and what he felt. But the story makes Joseph seem super human. Initially, we aren't told about his grief and I wonder if his grief  was overshadowed by his need to survive. We aren't told about anger that would kindle in a human heart betrayed by one's own flesh, that was falsely accused of rape, and that was forgotten and left in prison. Maybe it was because he focused on the steadfast love of God and His blessings that were poured out on him in each circumstance he faced.

As a human, Joseph had choices to make. He could put his eyes on the injustices he experienced and the suffering he endured or He could put them on God who was at work in His life. He could choose to focus on people who did him wrong and grow a hatred of his own or he could focus on God who is sovereign and in control of what appeared a mess. He could choose to lie in bed at night and plot the revenge his brothers deserved or allow God to fill him with peace and grace freeing him to be who God created him to be. He could focus on the mistakes his dad made, showing favoritism and asking him to tattle or he could choose to forgive. He could focus on his dream-bragging ways and hate himself or he could focus on Gods grace and allow Him to grow humility that could dissipate the pride that had dwelled in his young heart. 

We eventually get a glimpse of the pain Joseph endured. During the famine his brothers knocked on his  door to buy grain. He recognized them, but they didn't know him. Joseph devised a plan to get them to bring his youngest brother to him. When they returned he invited them to a feast. When Joseph saw Benjamin, he was overcome by emotion and ran from the room to weep. When he decided to tell his brothers, he was so overcome with emotion that he wept so loud the whole household of pharaoh heard him. He revealed his identity and his brothers returned home to bring their dad and their families to live in Egypt under Joseph's rule. Joseph extended them grace, telling them what they meant for evil, God meant for good.  

There are several things we can  take from Joseph's story. First, God's plans will not be thwarted by man's schemes. The brothers bowed to the bother they sold. A modern story that also reflects this truth  is the Jim Elliot and Steve Saint story. God sent them to people as His witness and the people  murdered them. But God wanted these people's hearts and sent their wives and families back and  used them and their grace to win the people's heart. That abuser. That user. That slanderer. That betrayer. That murderer. They cannot stop God's plans.

Second, no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in God is a God who blesses. God blessed Joseph in Egypt. He blessed him in Potiphar's house. He blessed him in prison. When we take our eyes off of our circumstances, off those who wrong us, off those who hate us, off of the disease we have, off the broken relationship that stings, off the job we lost, and put them on God we will be able to see God's blessings.  

Third, God may take us to some places we don't want to go, so He can bless people as He blesses us. Potiphar was blessed. The jailor was blessed. Joseph's family was blessed--all because God blessed Joseph. My friend Mary Esther was taken through a cancer battle with her two year old son and she kept her eyes on Jesus and experienced His blessings daily. As they sat with their son after surgery and through chemo, the medical staff, their friends, their church family also experienced the blessings with which God was blessing them. In addition, someone gave her a journaling Bible and she share the pictures she began drawing during that dark time and her journaling has gone viral. More and more people are being blessed by their story and just as Joseph's trust in God saved people, her trust is showing people the way they can be saved.    

Fourth, there is nothing wrong with grieving losses and expressing pain. Joseph held his pain close until he could contain it no more and he grieved long and hard right in front of this brothers. I have a hunch his pain did a lot more convicting than anger ever could have. His pain, the grief their father experienced, and their fear of retaliation may well have been the chisels God used to soften their stone cold hearts. 

Finally, there is  no offense so big that a heart in the hand of God can't forgive it. Joseph was hated. Joseph was thrown into a pit. Joseph was stripped of his identity. Joseph was taken from the pit only to be sold as a slave. Joseph taken to a foreign land, falsely accused of rape, cast into prison, and forgotten by someone he helped. Yet, he worked hard, rose to power, and saved lives, preserving the line of Jesus.

Suffering well allows God to do his work in us, in our families, in our church, in our community, and even in our nation. Suffering well allows us to experience God's love and blessing even in the hard. Suffering well allows us to see how God works in and through us. Suffering well produces patience, which endurance, which produces hope.

They said, "Yes!"

A couple of weeks ago our nation experienced another mass shooting. This shooting was different, in that the shooter had victims lie on the floor and then asked them to stand up one at a time. When one stood, he asked if he or she was a Christian. If the answer was yes, he shot to kill; if the answer was no, he shot to injure. It reminded me a little of the shooter in Columbine High School who also had asked his victims if they were believers, shooting them when they said yes.

As I viewed the news stories about Umpqua, my heart hurt because a small community suffered so many losses and it will hurt for years to come. I also grieved because those who were present that day suffered a horrible trauma and trauma forever changes the lives of those who experience it. Many people will have to work way harder at living because of one person's hate-filled actions.

I found myself contemplating many things that day--What drives a person to hate believers enough to shoot them? What gives people the courage to say, "Yes," when it will cost them their life? How will those who denied their faith deal with their shame? And how do I deal with this seizing fear that wells up in my own heart as I think of those I love possibly dying because of their faith?

There is and will continue to be a lot written about the psychology behind mass shooters by people way more qualified than I to write on that topic. I find myself drawn to write about the questions I have been pondering, but I do so with fear and trepidation because when lives are lost for the sake of Christ, I feel like I am standing on Holy ground and want to write in a way that honors God, honors those that were martyred, and honors those who suffered tremendous loss.

First the hatred people feel towards believers goes way back. The Bible is full of accounts of hatred, first, towards Israel and then towards Christians. Some who hate believers may have cause for their anger--some may have been spiritually abused by legalistic people who covered their own shame by shaming them. Some may have been victimized by believers who judged and shamed them for their sin, rather than showing them God's grace. Some may have been  sexually, psychologically, emotionally, or physically victimized by someone claiming to be a Christian while church leadership remained passive in the face of their pain. Maybe they had the gospel forcefully crammed down their throats with out experiencing Christ's love through those bearing the message. Maybe they were simply overlooked and ignored and treated as invisible individuals, not worthy of acknowledgement.

On the other hand, maybe they hate believers because we remind them of the God-hunger etched in their hearts by the Creator. Maybe, that hunger is what triggers shame that they cover with anger and hatred. Maybe that shame was inflicted on them by others or maybe they donned it themselves by the choices they made, choices they regret and can't undo. Maybe they hate believers because their shame runs so deep they can't face the pain of it long enough to look into the loving face of the Savior who frees humans from the shame they bear. Maybe they hate believers because they see something in them they desperately want, but are afraid to seek. Maybe they hate believers because giving up the pride of trying to control life is too scary. Maybe they hate believers because admitting they need a Savior feels too vulnerable and unsafe. Maybe believers lives expose the darkness in their own souls and they hate that. So, they hide, they blame, they hate, and they murder.

There was also the very real possibility that the shooters hatred was fueled by the Enemy who is ever seeking to devour, destroy, and demolish God's people. Unresolved issues in people's lives  leave them open to all sorts of demonic influences that distort the thinking, causing destructive thoughts, destructive patterns of behavior, and the making of ungodly vows that drive hateful behavior. Those distorted perceptions blind people to the Truth.

When I think of the courage it took for the students at Umpqua to stand and say, "Yes," I feel  humbled. I thought of a guy I was interested in during my sophomore year in college. He asked me if I was a Christian. I admitted that I was, but I played down the importance of my faith, because I feared he would reject me. The guilt and shame I experienced afterward have helped me stand firmer in my faith since that time. But here were students the same age as I was who were staring down the barrel of a gun when they were asked the same question and they did not waver. When the first person was shot for saying yes, I think it would have required even more courage for the second person to say yes, and then the third, and then the fourth...

When I think about what gave them the courage they displayed, my thoughts are drawn to Stephen who was also martyred for his faith. In Acts 6 Stephen was described as a man who was full of grace and power. He was known for speaking with wisdom and for having a bold Spirit that offended nonbelievers who were in rebellion against God. Acts 7 tells us those nonbelievers responded to Stephen's last sermon by becoming enraged to the point that they were gnashing their teeth at him and they immediately dragged him out of the city where they stoned him. But the Lord  graciously  gave Stephen a vision of the Jesus standing at the right hand of God. As they stoned him he commended his spirit to Christ and then in a gracious act cried out for mercy to be shown to the crowd. That same Spirit that indwelled Stephen indwelled the believers who stood firm in their faith at Umpqua. I wonder if God gave them the same vision?

The Bible says the death of the saints in precious in the sight of the Lord (Psalm 116:15). It says that the spirit who is behind the martyrdom of believers will ultimately and completely be destroyed (Revelation 17)! The believers who were killed in Umpqua join a great cloud of witnesses found in Hebrews 11:35-38. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release so they could rise to a better life. Some suffered mocking, beatings, imprisonment, and death by stoning, sword, being sawn in two, and we could add guns. Some lived destitute. Some were afflicted. Some were mistreated. And God said of them that the world was not worthy to have them.

I also believe the precious Saints at Umpqua are with those mentioned in Revelation 6:9-11. John saw them in His vision when the fifth seal was opened and he wrote, "I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne. They cried out with a loud voice, "O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth? They were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been." (ESV) God will honor both their faith and their deaths. The last part of that passage seizes this grandma heart of mine. It indicates there will be more deaths of believers who bear witness of Jesus. It could be me or you or those we love.

A part of me prays for my loved ones' protection, and another part of me prays that God will instill in them and in me a faith so strong we could stand firm and say, "Yes!" even while looking down the barrel of gun.

The faith of martyrs in precious to God. It stands in the Faith Hall of Fame with-- the faith of Abel and his acceptable sacrifice, the faith of Enoch who never saw death, the faith of Noah and his life-saving ark, the faith of the nomadic Abram, the faith of Sarah and little "Laughter" who suckled her post-menopausal breast, the faith of Isaac and blessings he spoke over Jacob and Esau, the faith of Joseph and his bones returned to Israel to wait for the resurrection, the faith of Moses and the first born Hebrew children who escaped death by keeping the first Passover, and the faith of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel and the prophets all of which conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, received promises, stopped mouths of lions, quenched power of fire, escaped death, or became made mighty warriors despite plaguing weaknesses, and the women who received back their dead by resurrection.

It remains a mystery why one's faith results in a miracle and another's faith results in death. But we know God notices faith. He saw the martyrs Umpqua and He cared. By their testimony they showed that God is real, that God saves, and that this life is not all there is. The enemy would have us believe he won that day and that their deaths prove that God doesn't care. But, the truth is because of their faith the enemy has lost yet another battle in the war he has waged on God.

I will be praying for those who lost sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, teachers, or friends. I long for God to fill them with His peace and His love. I long for Him to make His presence very real as they grieve their losses--the loss of people, the loss of a sense of safety, the loss of future holidays, graduations, weddings, children and grandchildren.  I pray that they would be able to work through their anger and fully forgive, not because the shooter deserves it, but because they want to honor the faith of their loved ones and the God of which they testified. I pray that in spite of the deep pain they experience they will be able to eventually reconnect to joy. I pray they will be surrounded by people who understand grief, who won't rush them or speak wounding platitudes to them.

I wonder if there might be victims who denied their faith to preserve their lives. I fear that if there were some, they might bear much shame. Some will say they could not have been "real" believers because they denied the faith, but I suggest that Peter's story tells us something very different. He denied Christ three times in one night and the Lord Himself sought him out and restored his calling. If some denied Him, I pray their faith would be strengthened and their shame transformed. We can all learn from their stories just like we learn from Peter's. God can use this event to strengthen their faith--just as He used Peter's cowardice to help him become a humble preacher who went on to preach some of the most powerful sermons ever voiced in the face of great adversity. Our God never  gives up on His children.

Finally, I pray for us who believe and still live--that we would be strengthened by the testimony of the witnesses in Umpqua whose testimonies included the giving of their lives--that we might live with hearts fully devoted to Christ. I desire for others to see our "Yes!" by our words, by our actions, by our attitudes, by our lives, by our deaths, and by our loving obedience to Jesus, who gave His own life for us.

And This is Christmas -- Christmas 4

In a Garden long ago, the crafty serpent made his entrance known
By enticing the woman Eve through his lies sown.   
Pride took hold of her heart, birthing in her the desire for more.
The fruit was beautiful to see and promised more...so she bit.
She turned to her man, handing him the God-forbidden fruit and he joined her in her sin.
The Serpent smiled as dark shame permeated their souls.
His wicked chuckle could still be heard as they hid from their God.
But God came near with arms of grace, stitching animal skins to cover their disgrace.

After that day, the darkness grew and perpetrated the whole earth,
And every thought and intention of mankind was governed by sin.
And the violence grew rampant on the earth,
And human blood was being continuously spilt.
But Noah, he found favor with God and built Him and Ark on dry desert land.
The winds blew, a cataclysmic storm brewed, and animals accumulated two by two. 
And God came near, shutting the door, sheltering them from the raging storm.

And then there was a time that men worshiped fertility gods made of stone.  
It was in that culture that Sarai grew old, suffering the shame of her infertility, 
The man who had taken her as his bride remained both faithful and true. 
He chose to love her in spite of  her empty arms,
As he lived with his own unmet desire for a son.
God called them away, promising them longed-for son, but they laughed continued to wait.  
But God came near and she birthed and nursed while holding little "Laughter" close to the heart.

Then there came a day when Israel sinned and Babylon took her captive.
The finest young men were taken and groomed to serve the foreign king. 
In a fit of pride, the king built a statue demanding all to fall and worship at its feet.
Three young captives chose to remain loyal to their God,
And they courageously refused to bow.
They were bound and cast into burning hot flames, facing a certain death. 
But God came near and stood with them in the heat, honoring their public display of faith. 

There came a day when Rome ruled, prophets were silent, and Israel desperately longed for her Messiah. 
An angel came in the middle of the night, awakening a young teen with glorious news,
She was betrothed to a man who held integrity in his heart, 
The angel said God had chosen her to bear His Son and, by faith, Mary worshiped God.
By faith Joseph remained committed as he chose to raise the Babe as his own.
At the right time the baby was born and placed in a manger as shepherds bowed and angels sang.
And God came near in human form, born a Savior, a Shepherd, and a King. 

There came a time when Jesus walked among mankind, inviting all to experience God's love. 
A woman caught in adultery was cast at His feet and experienced both mercy and grace.
A woman was rejected by five men and found that only God's love could satisfy the unquenchable thirst.
A woman had suffered long as blood continuously flowed long from her body, 
Rose up and by faith reached for the hem of the garments He wore and was healed. 
And a man born blind was given sight; lepers were cleansed, and demons cast out.
And God came near with a missions of grace, offering love and a solution for sin. 

There came a time when religious rulers felt threatened by this God wearing flesh.
And a greedy disciple fulfilled prophecy by betraying the Master with a single kiss. 
The Messiah who was taken and illegally tried throughout the long night was found guiltless,
And He remained silent as He was sentenced to die. 
Stripped, beaten, mocked and scorned, He was hammered to a tree.
The world grew dark, His blood was spilled, our shame was covered, and God's wrath was satisfied. 
And God came near, love conquering hate, trampling the Enemy beneath His feet.

And there came this time when God dwells  in the hearts of those He calls His own. 
And people work, people play, people watch, and people pray.
And God's people find themselves longing for their King's return,
As couples grieve the babies lost, husbands watch as cancer claims their spouse's life,   
And Soldiers fight for our freedom, while people here at home are senselessly killing each other.  
Parents pray for runaways, addictions exert control, marriages crumble, and boys girls are preyed upon. 
Yet, God remains near, carefully mending each heart ripped in two, one love-stitch at a time.

There will come a time when the heavens open, revealing our King called Faithful and True.
And we will live with Him in the dwelling place He is now preparing. 
And God will forever be our God, the victorious Christmas story finally complete. 
He will be the wiper of tears, the destroyer of death, the eraser of pain, the remover of grief!
But today He is the purifier of hearts, the satisfier of longings, the giver of Life, and lover of souls. 
And God came near, He is the Alpha and Omega--the Beginning and the End,   
And He is completing redemption stories, one life, one heart, one victory at a time.    


  

God Meets us in our Deepest Pain

"He was despised and rejected by men;

a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;

and as one from who men hide their faces

He was despised, and we esteemed Him not."

Isaiah 53:3



The recent death of Robin Williams touched my heart deeply because he was able to touch our human hearts at a deep level with both laughter and tears. He always presented himself as a kind and decent person in interviews that he granted in the midst of the crazy Hollywood culture. The death of someone so well known triggers grief in each of us even though we didn't have a personal relationship with him and that is OK. Because his death was classified as suicide, the grief is more complicated, leaving us with all sorts of questions and all sorts of judgments.

As saddened as I was by his death, I was more impacted by the responses of believers who blogged expressing thoughts and opinions. Some of the blog posts were full of compassion and hope as was Ann Voskamp's. Her blog gave me a lot to think about, brought up parts of my own story I hadn't thought about in a while. She talked about things I too had experienced within the church and I was sad that she had experienced those, too. It was a good sadness because it reminded me of how to respond in a godly way to hurting people.

Others bloggers, like Matt Walsh, wrote posts about William's death that made me cringe and grieved my heart. Ironically, it is because he reminded me of the same things Ann had. The difference was that Ann pointed out those things from her personal experience and she imparted hope and a challenge to love as Jesus loves. Matt wrote from a critical perspective that sounded judgmental and shaming, which didn't offer hope and my fear is that it will silence those who are hurting and don't want to be judged.

I became deeply acquainted with depression after the birth of my third child. The pregnancy was tough because a man broke into our home in the middle of the night. I woke up with him touching my night clothes. Even though my husband woke up and the man ran, it did trigger PTSD which kept me from sleeping through the rest of the pregnancy. If I did fall asleep, I would awaken my two preschoolers and my husband by screaming when I was dreaming or having flashbacks of traumas I previously experienced. During the day, when one of my little ones approached me from behind, I would screamed in terror instead of turning and sweeping them up playfully in my arms. We sold that home and moved right before the baby was born. I was excited and thought the move would solve everything. But the fear I felt wasn't a fear of a certain place, it was a fear of being unsafe in my own skin.

After the baby was born, my husband was studying at the college and I walked into our home and put the kids to bed after church one night and I sat down and started crying and couldn't stop. I was confused and kept telling myself I had everything I wanted--a relationship with God, a great husband, three beautiful children, a new home, and yet somehow I couldn't shake the dark feeling of dread and fear I lived with for several years.

I visited the church library at one point and found a book called Happiness is a Choice.  A few things  helped a little, but try as hard as I could, I couldn't resolve the darkness I experienced and felt even more ashamed because I even failed at choosing happiness. After another pregnancy, I told two doctors and one corrected nutritional deficiencies and one corrected a minor thyroid problem which helped a lot. I also began to run, boosting my brain chemistry and felt hopeful. God also put some key people in my life that listened to me and encouraged me as a mom, a believer, and gave me the gifts of friendship and fellowship centered around God.

After the birth of another child and two moves across the country, I went through another season of pain and darkness I thought would never end. No amount of trying to choose happiness worked. I tried to silence dark thoughts and I functioned, but I hurt down to the deepest parts of my soul. In addition to the depression I was experiencing broken relationships, two things I thought Christians weren't supposed to have. I struggled with an eating disorder in which I bounced back and forth from anorexia to obesity and back again and the thoughts were as dark as the self-loathing was deep. I believed my family would be better off without me and construed plans that would lessen their pain. One wise friend I confided in told me honestly he didn't know how to help me, but believed God wanted to help me through counseling. After a couple of years of wrestling with the shame attached to going to counseling, I did seek it. I began to find some relief and hope in the office of Christian counselors. Sadly, I heard many negative comments about believers who sought counseling from Christian leaders. I even had one person shove a Bible in my face and tell me if I spent more time in it I wouldn't have depression or an eating disorder. I was reading, praying, and attending church. I was hurting and wondering why this God thing seemed to work for everyone but me. I hated the fact that as I woke up day after day, pleading God to either heal me or take me home. I hated that I could love another and care about them so deeply, while the loathing of myself was destroying my heart.

I want to make it clear that even though I had some bad experiences during the dark time, I did have some people in my life who were believers who spent hours encouraging me in the work I was doing with counselors. Some may have wanted me to get done quicker, but others were patient and understood depressed wounded people are suffering and their minds move slowly. I didn't choose to be happy anymore, but I did choose to quit trying to please the critics and allowed the healing process to be what it was--slow steps and tiny victories overshadowed by slips and grief. I chose therapists that understood I believed Jesus was the healer and I chose to dive in and work hard, because I knew for me it was a matter of life or death.

The counseling office was the first place I shared the hurts of the past that drove my disorder as well as the hurts I was presently experiencing. I expected to hear the Christian admonition to forgive, but what I experienced was compassion and having someone enter the trenches and cry with me, get angry over the sin perpetrated against me, and then rejoice with me as I began to move forward. I had the gift of someone who listened to the words I needed to say to get well and someone who made it safe to cry tears I needed to cry.

I also learned the difference in being self-centered and self-aware so I can take care of myself and love others in healthier ways. I learned to confront in godly ways so I didn't live as a human doormat. I learned to forgive from my heart, acknowledging events, pain, and grief rather than living in denial and stuffing pain.

I was encouraged to spend time in the Word especially Psalms so I could learn to express emotions and thoughts to God in the way the man after God's own heart did. I filled journals with letters I wrote to God, processing traumatic events and painful emotions as well as the goodness of God. I also chose to spend a time studying the names and characteristics of God and found that some of those names were ascribed to Him by hurting people just like me. I began to explore in minute detail the gospels and gained glimpses of how Jesus talked to people and how He treated them. He never shamed broken people, but He confronted harshly those who thought they weren't. I learned that He experienced and expressed all the same emotions I felt, but stuffed. I came to realize that unbelief isn't just not believing what the Word says about God, it is also not believing what God says about me.

During the time of counseling I wasn't shamed for my concerns, but taught to cast my cares upon God by naming them to Him rather than pretending they didn't exist. I learned that the person who told me tears were a sign of weakness was wrong and herself deceived. I learned that I could face the past and that God was big enough to heal it and to hear my questions, thoughts, and emotions about it. I learned all emotions are God-given and serve as a good indicator that I am alive. I learned to read the messages the emotions tell me and to manage them. I found a courage in the midst of my fear that I didn't know I had.

I've said all of that to say, I am deeply saddened when someone takes their own life. I understand first hand  the desire to end the dark feelings of hopelessness, despair, and shame. I understand the desire to end the pain I believed would never end. I feel sad that people have written things in the Christian community that is so judgmental. I believe God is the author of life, but also believe there is a huge difference in being sad for a few days or grieving for a season and in suffering clinical depression that is debilitating and clouds one's perceptions and decisions making processes in the same way drugs or alcohol can. I believe it is only by the grace of God that I didn't take my life. I know some have sought every kind of help possible and didn't make it. Rather than judging them I will simply acknowledge that I don't know why. I refuse to judge the validity of another's salvation, another's strength or lack there of, or another's character at a time like this.

I want you to know I found great joy and purpose in doing the work I did to overcome depression and trauma. While, I will never be like someone who hasn't had those experiences, I have found in facing the pain of those experiences I have had the joy of seeing God intricately involved in my journey and experienced first hand His comfort. I have experienced His strength in my weakest moments. I have experienced the truth of His Word taking form in my heart through the wrestling I've done with God.

Most importantly, as I read through the Gospels I realized Jesus experienced every emotion I have felt, even sorrowing unto the point of feeling He would die from it. He was abused, lied about, misunderstood, falsely accused, hated, rejected, and yet He loved and He obeyed God by taking on my sin. I began to find solace in the truth that the Savior I had embraced so long ago was a traumatized Savior, a man troubled deeply by sorrow. The scene of Him in the garden shows He understood the struggle, the sorrow, the aloneness, and even the despair. The scene also taught me to hang on to God knowing that what looks bad is often the vehicle through which His goodness, grace, and mercy are delivered. As I came out of that dark season, I began to grasp the truth that my story as painful and ugly as it was at times is a beautiful story of redemption, restoration, and healing. Out of the ashes, He has given me a ministry of comforting other women who have been deeply wounded and I can say today, that the joy in watching precious ladies find Jesus in their pain is overwhelming and the privilege of seeing them leave our groups as women no longer defined by their pain and their pasts is indescribably rewarding.

I learned so many beautiful and powerful things about Christ from my dark season. I have come out of it finding profound joy. I think of the cross and what that must have looked like to the world. It grew dark, the ground shook, the Savior died, and the flock scattered. It looked like the end. But what they could not see at the time was that during the darkness, human sin was overcome by God's righteousness. Hatred was defeated by God's love, The Deceiver was silenced by the Truth. Death was overcome and the light shone through the darkness erasing every nook and cranny. I fear the  tendency we have as a church to judge those who take their own lives or who struggle will emotional pain will keep us from being transparent, compassionate, and loving. I fear it will keep us from being the hands and feet and voice of Jesus to those in pain. I fear it will leave us stuck in our miserable pride rather than foster humility.

I know when I find myself judging another I am experiencing fear, struggling with insecurity, avoiding pain, am uncomfortable with something or someone, or am trying to fit God into a box so He and His ways make sense and feels comfortable and safe to me. But to be honest, I want a God who is bigger than comfortable. I want a God who is bigger than my perception of safe. I want a God who refuses to be boxed in by my simple human mind. I hope we, as believers, use Williams' death to do some soul searching and heart correcting so we love as He loves. Maybe compassion and a willingness to understand the mind of someone in so much pain can teach us to love in tangible real ways and to speak God's hope into a heart filled with despair. Shame only causes their pain to be intensified and then buried deeper where it festers.

Thank you, Robin, for making me laugh and making me cry and making me think. Thank you for talking so transparently about your struggles. Your death and its circumstances deserve to be treated with dignity and compassion...its the least we can do for one who has impacted us in such profound ways.