battle – Page 3 – thelifeididntchoose

The Power of Lament to Make Room for Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday.

I loved everything about it: the color scheme, the food (I love, love, love to cook-it was never a burden), family and friends gathered around the table, and the wonderful slowness of the day as it lingered into nightfall.

It was more flexible than Christmas for including all sorts of folks who otherwise didn’t have someplace to go. Living near colleges meant that we welcomed students from around the world-we might have two or three dozen laughing faces milling about.

It was wonderful.

And I loved going around the circle, tummies bursting, to share what people were thankful for and why.

When Dominic left us everything changed.

Oh, I was (and still am) so very thankful for so very many things-my family, daily physical provision, ongoing care and love of friends, the enduring faithful mercy of God.

But there’s something else too: there is deep sorrow at the unavoidable FACT that when God COULD have stepped in and changed an outcome, He DIDN’T.

And I’m having to learn to open my heart to thankfulness while also bearing witness to this pain.

Praise and lament in the same breath.

I have plenty of company.

The world we live in is full of pain and suffering. Injustice reigns. We make our way through thorns and by the sweat of our brow.

It is just plain hard.

The psalmist acknowledges that. He doesn’t rush past the pain. He doesn’t gloss over the broken places.

He empties his heart of the feeling that God has forgotten. But he doesn’t stop there-he chooses to bring the emptiness back to the only One Who can fill it up again.

Like the psalmist, I’m learning that I must exhale before I can inhale.

I must admit the burden of hopelessness to make room for the blessing of hope.

“With my voice I cry out to the LORD: with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD.”

I ADMIT I FEEL ABANDONED:

In the path where I walk
they have hidden a trap for me.
Look to the right and see:
there is none who takes notice of me;
no refuge remains to me;
no one cares for my soul.

AND YET I WILL CHOOSE TO TRUST:

I cry to you, O LORD;
I say, “You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.”

IN THE HOPE THAT GOD HEARS:

Attend to my cry,
for I am brought very low!

SO THAT MY TESTIMONY MAY BE ONE OF PRAISE:

Bring me out of prison,
that I may give thanks to your name!

Psalm 142, selected

As I sit at the table, cherishing the companionship of those I love and missing the one I can no longer see, I will embrace thanksgiving and lament.

I will exhale and inhale.

I will beg for grace and mercy because I can no longer beg to be spared from sorrow.

I will ask for eyes to see and a faithful heart while I wait.

Some Days, I’m Just a Mess

weakness1

The other day a conversation about the upcoming holidays devolved into a confrontation.

What I was trying to communicate came out wrong and one thing led to another until I fled- a crying, trembling mess.

I am trying so hard to manage this life I have left.

I work out plans in my head to navigate what I know will be challenging events or days or gatherings. I execute the plan as best I can and when I feel overwhelmed I try to escape to a quiet corner or a bathroom or outside for a moment to regather my composure.

But it doesn’t always work.

There are so many variables-people, lack of sleep, random added stressors, physical pain, grief triggers, and even low blood sugar-any one of which, or a combination of which, can sabotage the carefully constructed plan I’ve made.

I feel like there are no easy days. I feel like there are no moments when I don’t have to be on alert. I feel like I am constantly doing battle.

I stop by the store and meet someone I haven’t seen in awhile. They ask, “How are you?”

So I go down the line of my living children and give a description of what they are doing-leaving out how they are feeling. I don’t mention me. The person never notices but I’m reminded again of the disconnect between what others see and what I know to be true.

Sunday’s sermon is taken from a text that could be interpreted to mean that God protects His faithful people from physical harm. I’m hemmed in by someone on the end of the pew but I want to get up and run from the sanctuary.

Is my son’s death judgement on my unfaithfulness or on his?

It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to remain in place. No one is even aware of the battle raging inside.

I walk through each day pushing down the pain, shoving aside the rising tide of tears.

I measure my words, measure my reactions, measure my emotions-trying so very hard to keep it in.

I wish I could crawl in bed, cover my head with the blanket and just stay there until this all went away.

But I can’t.

So I muddle through the best I can-hoping that one day I will figure it out.

Probably not today.

Appropriate Response

Tears of great grief have clarified my vision.

I don’t think clever arguments are the best way to effect change and I’m unconvinced that gathering the right group of people can guarantee an outcome.

But I know that God’s people, repentant and responsive to His will can do battle in the heavenlies.

donald-trump-vs-hillary-clinton

I am writing this BEFORE tonight’s scheduled presidential debate-I won’t be watching it–nothing the candidates have to say and no media spin can undo the knot in my stomach.

I am not surprised to find us here. But I am surprised that so many of my fellow believers are surprised.

Like captive Israel, we seem astonished that God does exactly what He says He will do.

Daniel understood his times. Daniel knew that the blame lay not on those “out there” but on us “in here”.

Pagans will be pagans.

They have no reason nor the power to act in accordance with biblical teaching.

But those of us called by grace and covered by Jesus’ blood-that’s an entirely different story.

So instead of lobbing political arguments across the aisle or pounding one another with snarky social media posts, I think we should follow Daniel’s example and storm the gates of heaven.

daniel-praying

An appropriate response to our current political predicament starts with prayer.

And that prayer starts with repentance.

Not a general, “We’ve been so bad, God. Sorry.”

But genuine, gut-wrenching, heart breaking acknowledgement of the degree to which the people of God-me, you, us–have turned from truth and pursued our own pleasure.

For generations, we have put our faith in a political party instead of a Holy God. We have been happy to accept leaders of questionable integrity as long as our pocketbooks didn’t suffer.

We have sinned. And we are reaping the fruit of the seed we sowed.

Our only hope is the mercy of God.

I am going to be fasting and praying and begging for that mercy, like Daniel.

So I turned to the Lord God and pleaded with him in prayer and petition, in fasting, and in sackcloth and ashes.

I prayed to the Lord my God and confessed:

“Lord, the great and awesome God, who keeps his covenant of love with those who love him and keep his commandments, we have sinned and done wrong. We have been wicked and have rebelled; we have turned away from your commands and laws. We have not listened to your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land.

“Lord, you are righteous, but this day we are covered with shame…The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving, even though we have rebelled against him;…The Lord did not hesitate to bring the disaster on us, for the Lord our God is righteous in everything he does; yet we have not obeyed him.

“Now, Lord our God, who brought your people out of Egypt with a mighty hand and who made for yourself a name that endures to this day, we have sinned, we have done wrong. Lord, in keeping with all your righteous acts, turn away your anger and your wrath…We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy. Lord, listen! Lord, forgive! Lord, hear and act! For your sake, my God, do not delay, because your city and your people bear your Name.

Daniel 9:1-19 selected NIV

I Will Not Be Moved

I’m not brave by nature.

If I have a choice, I will run every time. But there are just some things worth fighting for.

My family is one of them.

I will not let the enemy have them.

I will not allow despair to overtake us, fear to bind us, hopelessness to sap our strength.

I will not let death win.

And though he stalks me like a hungry lion, knocks persistently demanding attention, follows me as close as my own shadow-I will not let the evil one overtake me or find a home in my heart.

I refuse despair.

This night of loss will be longer than I can bear in my own strength, but I am convinced the Lord will restore my joy.

I am committed to cling to Christ even through my eyes are worn out with tears.

I fight fear.

There is no guarantee that my cup of suffering is full. It may yet hold more sorrow, but I will not worry about what tomorrow may bring.

God is there

I won’t give in to hopelessness.

I hold onto hope because hope is a Person. He is faithful and He is able. What I have given to His hands is safe and secure.

And though death is awful-it is not the end of the story.

When trapped between the Egyptians and the Red Sea, the nation of Israel was understandably frightened.

There WAS no escape-turn back and be slaughtered or move forward and drown.

They despaired of help and begged God to save them.

…Moses told the people, “Don’t be afraid. Just stand where you are and watch, and you will see the wonderful way the Lord will rescue you today. The Egyptians you are looking at—you will never see them again.
Exodus 14;13

They could never have imagined the miraculous answer to their desperate plea for rescue.

I realize that the answer to my cry for help is not going to be restoration of my son in this life. I know that I will have to wait for redemption of my pain.

But I am convinced that what the world regards as a final chapter is only the beginning of the story.

I serve the same God Who parted the Red Sea.

He is still on the throne.

He is not sleeping and He is not silent.

I can stand my ground between today and eternity confident that He is at work in all things.

He is an ever present Help in time of trouble.

I will not be moved.

Worship as Warfare

After [Jehoshaphat] had advised the people, he appointed people to sing to the LORD and praise him for the beauty of his holiness. As they went in front of the troops, they sang, “Thank the LORD because his mercy endures forever!”

2 Chronicles 20:21 GWT

I love worship music.

My heart is transported from here to there in a single note.

In a moment, I am before the Throne, inside the Holy of Holies, crying out for more, more, more of Jesus.

Worship makes me vulnerable to the Spirit’s deep work in my heart-I hear truth, I see beyond the pain and I feel God’s love.

But it also makes me a target for the enemy of my soul.

Yesterday I plugged in Pandora to my stereo and was lifted higher, higher until… in a breath I was brought low.

Leaning over to raise the volume of a favorite song I came eye-to-eye with my missing son.

The photo we chose for his memorial folder is hanging with his siblings’ on my living room wall.

And I was transported from here to there in a heartbeat-

from almost two and a half years past that awful day to the moment I first breathed in the truth that he was gone.

I covered my eyes with both hands and refused the whispers of darkness.

The tears fell and my heart hurt, but I hissed back, “He’s not dead. He’s just not here!”

And I cranked the Truth up higher and dared the devil to come back.

I raised my hands and chose to worship the One Who is loving my son until I get there, Who loves me even in my brokenness and Who will redeem this pain and restore what the enemy has stolen.

I took out my sword and declared “He is a Good, Good Father.”

Lessons From a Midwife on Life, Death and the Power of Presence

A fellow “waiting” mom wrote this and gave me permission to share:

“I coached my oldest daughter through natural labor and childbirth on Wednesday night. She stayed at 9cm for 3.5 hours.

Towards the end she looked at me and said ‘I can’t do this, I’m not strong enough!’

I looked at her and said, ‘You can because you have your husband and me right here with you to give you our strength.’

We held her up while she rocked back and forth moving her little guy down into position.

While I was holding my daughter through such physical trauma I thought about how God held me up after the loss of her sister.

I didn’t have the strength to stand. I felt like I couldn’t do it.

But He held me.

He didn’t take the pain away but He held me up when my strength failed me.”

Her words brought light to my heart.

Here was a mama who has faced life and death and learned something she was willing to share.

Her experience reminded me of this Brene Brown quote I had read months ago:

Faith isn’t an epidural. It’s a midwife who stands next to me saying, “Push, It’s supposed to hurt.” ~Brene Brown

As I reflected on my friend’s words and this quote, I realized there were some lessons here-for birth, for death and for grief.

A midwife does not deny the pain.

It hurts!

It hurts to give birth. It hurts to say good-bye. It hurts to carry grief everywhere I go.

When someone comes alongside and denies the truth of my pain, I shut down and stop listening.

But when they enter in and acknowledge my pain, I receive courage to continue pushing.

A midwife does not offer false hope.

She knows that there is no way through but through. A midwife bears witness and lends strength but she doesn’t pretend it will be easy.

There are no shortcuts to birth and no detours for grief. I can only face the sorrow, missing and hurt and keep going.

But the journey is easier when someone is willing to travel with me, to listen and to help bear the burden.

A midwife understands that though the pain is great and the process long, it will end.

It hurts. But it won’t hurt forever.

She doesn’t throw that truth in the hurting mama’s face. She whispers prayers for mercy.

For the profound wounds of life, there are no quick fixes. There is no easy healing.

We endure because God through His Spirit lends us strength.

We make it through because Jesus promises to redeem and restore.

And because friends remind us with their presence that God is near.

What a gift are those friends who stay near when life is hard,

who choose to stick it out when pain makes us both uncomfortable

and continue to love and lend their strength when mine is gone!

A Question of Trust: What About Signs?

It comes up often in bereavement groups:

What about signs from loved ones who have gone on to Heaven?

What about books that tell stories of people who have been to Heaven yet “allowed to return”?

What about cardinals and butterflies and feathers and dreams?

It would be so very easy to allow my feelings to rule my heart and to reject the truth of Scripture. It would be less of a struggle to walk this Valley of the Shadow of Death if I could “talk” to Dominic while waiting to join him.

But the Bible is plain: I cannot trust in anything or anyone but Jesus Christ. Every thing and every one else is fallible and will eventually lead me astray.

I wrote this a few months ago and hope it’s helpful to other grieving parents:

Read the rest here: Signs

Reminding My Heart of Truth

Last week was hard. Partly due to missing Dominic and partly due to things that had no direct link to him, but were made harder because of grief.

I try to do two things when that happens: I withdraw as much as possible to create space for rest and renewal and I remind my heart of the truth:

Preaching Gospel to Myself

Surrender

“Follow Me,” Jesus said to the twelve.

“Follow Me,” Jesus said to me when I was just a child.

“Yes,” I replied-not knowing or counting the cost.

If it was a single commitment without opportunity for turning back then it would be easy.

But it’s not.

Every day I have to face the question, “Did God REALLY say?” Boy that serpent knew just where to aim the spear of doubt so it would cause the greatest damage.

Can I believe that God is in control? Can I believe that He is good? Can I believe that He loves me?

Can I believe all those things when my circumstances scream, “NO!”

But I HAVE to believe.

Because if I can’t trust God, then I am without hope. If I can’t rely on His Word then there’s no foundation and no future. If He is not Who He says He is, then I should just quit now.

So I find myself at the foot of the cross, again. Facing my fears and having to choose: Who shall I serve?

Surrender is hard. Daily surrender is harder.

I cannot remake my heart. I cannot breathe life into my own breathless soul.

I can only place myself on the altar and allow God’s Spirit to do it for me.

So here I am.

Again.

Brothers and sisters, God has shown you his mercy. So I am asking you to offer up your bodies to him while you are still alive. Your bodies are a holy sacrifice that is pleasing to God. When you offer your bodies to God, you are worshiping him in the right way.

Romans 12: 1 NIRV

Can’t Hide the Ugly

Yesterday I was impatient and ugly with someone I love.

When you are hurting, physically or emotionally or physically AND emotionally, you just don’t have the energy to hide the ugly.

But the pain didn’t create the ugly-it just revealed it.

And I am sorry to say that even burying a child did not cleanse me of some ugliness I wish I didn’t have in my heart.

I keep asking God to fill me with His love, mercy and grace. And I am more full of those things than before.

But there is still plenty of (if not hate then) less-than-love, judgement and impatience. Trials don’t automatically lead to refinement or stronger faith.

Tribulation can drive someone away from God as easily as it can drive them to their knees.

If I’m not careful-if I’m not very careful-I can use my pain as an excuse for all kinds of bad behavior.

So I’m here to confess: I am so, so sorry.

I’m sorry that when my glass gets tipped, anger and bitterness spills out. I’m sorry that I’m not more faithful to extend grace when I hope grace will be extended to me. I’m sorry that speaking truth so that I prove my point and wound a heart is sometimes more satisfying than speaking truth in love.

I wish every deed I did and every word I spoke was full of life and never full of death.

I hate death. I. HATE. death.

It has taken enough from me. And I want no part of it.

Father, I want to be a beacon of light and life. Lord, make me so. Fill me to overflowing with YOUR love, YOUR life, YOUR grace, YOUR mercy. Left to myself I have no hope. But by Your Spirit, it can be so.

When all kinds of trials and temptations crowd into your lives my brothers, don’t resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends! Realise that they come to test your faith and to produce in you the quality of endurance. But let the process go on until that endurance is fully developed, and you will find you have become men of mature character with the right sort of independence. And if, in the process, any of you does not know how to meet any particular problem he has only to ask God—who gives generously to all men without making them feel foolish or guilty—and he may be quite sure that the necessary wisdom will be given him.

James 1:2-5 PHILLIPS

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