Sometimes people outside our experience toss Scripture at us who are suffering like confetti in a parade-as if we are heroes who only have yet to take the podium and declare the victory.
But what if there IS no victory in this life for some of us?
What if there is only endurance–which is a sort of victory but one not highly valued?
Read the rest here: What if My Testimony is Endurance?
Defiant faith scorns circumstances, obstacles, and impossibilities. This brand of faith challenges the fiends of hell to hurl their fiery darts, and when diabolical schemes seem to triumph, faith exclaims to God, ‘My times are in your hands’ (Psalm 31:15). It is that tenacious, unyielding trust in God that leads troubled hearts into immortal hopes. One’s sorrowful condition becomes the platform upon which the strength, wisdom, and beauty of God is revealed to a darkened world. Therein lies the consolation and power of the Almighty God.
~James Means, A Tearful Celebration
Just think-when our hearts hang onto hope in this Valley of the Shadow of Death, we are taking back territory from the enemy of our souls.
We are shedding light and spreading salt.
What a powerful testimony to the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ.
For every child of God defeats this evil world by trusting Christ to give the victory. And the ones who win this battle against the world are the ones who believe that Jesus is the Son Of God.
~1 John 5:4-5
What if, instead of hiding my pain, I allowed others to see it and offer it as a testimony of the power and grace of God in my life?
What if, instead of pretending that “everything is alright”, I admit that it’s not, but that God is still on the throne?
What if, instead of creating a gulf between myself and others by walling off parts of my life that I deem too messy, I throw open the door and invite folks inside-mess and all?
Read the rest here: Displaying Our Scars
Time, by itself, does not heal the pain of child loss.
But time, plus the work grief requires, plus God’s grace poured out on my heart and in my life, does bring a measure of healing.
I did not believe that in the first months or even years. But I can testify to that truth today. It has been a slow and very painful process full of stops and starts, one step forward, two steps back.
Am I still very broken?
Am I still limping?
Until the day I die I will never be the same.
But I have grown stronger and better able to carry this load of sorrow and God is helping me turn the ashes into something beautiful.
That something bears witness to my son, to my pain and to the truth that, with God’s help, I can endure faithfully to the end.
And God is no respecter of persons-He has not given me anything He will not pour out on every single heart that asks.
My prayer for each wounded reader is that you will feel the Father’s loving arms around you and that He will flood your broken heart with His grace, mercy and comfort.