You know, I don’t expect those outside the Body of Christ to have good theology-that’s like expecting me to be able to explain thermodynamics.
Ain’t gonna happen-it’s outside my scope of understanding and practice.
I do expect those who have spent a lifetime reading Scripture, studying Sunday School lessons and listening to sermons to know better.
But many don’t.
Read the rest here: Exploding the Myth: God Doesn’t Give You More Than You Can Handle
My daughter is a quote collector like her mama.
Here’s the one she has taped to her dashboard:
That is challenging for me.
When the one thing happens you think will never happen, well, that opens a whole chest full of fears you thought you’d locked inside.
But when I wake up I get to choose: will I give in or fight back?
I’m learning that while I can’t stop the thoughts that fly around in my brain I can choose which ones I invite to make a nest there.
When fear threatens to undo me, I resist.
I refuse to react to what MAY happen. I choose to hold onto what IS happening, right now.
Truth is, either way, I have no control over the future.
I will not lose today because of what tomorrow might bring.
It’s nice to get flowers or chocolate or balloons or cards that say, “I love you”.
But true love can’t be bought.
True love is marked by sacrifice, ongoing support, genuine compassion and willingness to do whatever it takes to “be there” for another person.
It means standing with someone even when walking beside them includes bearing the unbearable.
So I have a radical suggestion for this Valentine’s Day-instead of lining the pockets of America’s merchandising gurus-take a moment to write a note to someone who has truly loved you.
Tell them how their love has changed your life.
How their patience gives you space to grow.
How their kindness sings hope to your heart.
How their refusal to envy, boast or brag allows you to rejoice in their blessings without feeling left out or less than.
How their humility and gentleness invites you to share the deepest things, certain your secrets are safe.
How their refusal to keep a tally of the ways you’ve disappointed them grants freedom to try again.
How their trust and hope shine light in your life and give your heart something to hold onto.
How their enduring love gives you a glimpse of heaven.
Let the ones who love you well know that what they do makes a difference.
Every. Single. Day.
Maybe you can relate: It is easier to do without if what I want isn’t close enough to tempt me.
I don’t shop if I don’t want to spend. I don’t get donuts if I don’t want to eat sugar. I don’t have soda in the house if I don’t want to drink carbonated soft drinks.
It’s much harder to deny my desires when what I long for is within reach.
Read the rest here: Life at the Intersection of Desire and Self-Control
“To win the contest you must deny yourselves many things that would keep you from doing your best. An athlete goes to all this trouble just to win a blue ribbon or a silver cup, but we do it for a heavenly reward that never disappears.” [emphasis added]
~ I Corinthians 9:25 TLB
I remember one particularly grueling semester in college. I had foolishly stacked five upper level political science classes on top of one another thinking that taking them together would be easier.
That was a dumb idea.
The end of semester assignments included 200 pages of written term papers along with essay tests and other random bits. For two weeks I fell asleep on my bedroom floor, pen in hand, legal pad underneath my head and surrounded by dozens of open books I used for reference.
After composing the papers, I had to type them, add footnotes and bibliography and deliver them. All back before computers and word processing programs made it easy and electronic!
Oh, how I wanted to give up and give in! I was certain that I was not going to make it. I just knew that my body or mind or both would give out before I completed the task.
But they didn’t and I did manage to make it through.
I was willing to put forth the effort and pay the price for a letter grade!
No one cares what I made on those essays. No one asks me about my college classes or grades. At 53 I can’t even remember what I wrote about.
Now I face a much more challenging task: Living without the companionship of one of my precious children. The “grade” I make on this effort has eternal impact.
This is the Valley of Weeping, yet Christ promises it will become a place of refreshing.
“When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of springs where pools of blessing and refreshment collect after rains!”
Psalm 84:6 TLB
I can’t see an end for this grueling work. There’s no “semester break” circled on my calendar.
But there will be an end to this toil and pain-just as surely as there was an end those many years ago.
“As for us, we have this large crowd of witnesses around us. So then, let us rid ourselves of everything that gets in the way, and of the sin which holds on to us so tightly, and let us run with determination the race that lies before us. 2 Let us keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from beginning to end. He did not give up because of the cross! On the contrary, because of the joy that was waiting for him, he thought nothing of the disgrace of dying on the cross, and he is now seated at the right side of God’s throne.” [emphasis added]
~Hebrews 12: 1-2 GNT
And the reward for faithfully completing this assignment is so much more valuable than a good grade.
“Yet, my brothers, I do not consider myself to have “arrived”, spiritually, nor do I consider myself already perfect. But I keep going on, grasping ever more firmly that purpose for which Christ grasped me. My brothers, I do not consider myself to have fully grasped it even now. But I do concentrate on this: I leave the past behind and with hands outstretched to whatever lies ahead I go straight for the goal—my reward the honour of being called by God in Christ.” [emphasis added]
~Philippians 3:12-16 PHILLIPS
This reward is eternal-a never-ending supply of God’s grace and love and joy that will overwhelm the toil and pain I’ve endured.
Reunion.
Redemption.
Restoration.
So while I wait, I encourage my heart with these truths:
“Even more, I consider everything to be nothing compared to knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. To know him is worth much more than anything else. Because of him I have lost everything. But I consider all of it to be garbage so I can know Christ better.” [emphasis added]
~Philippians 3:8 NIRV
“We are cracked and chipped from our afflictions on all sides, but we are not crushed by them. We are bewildered at times, but we do not give in to despair. 9 We are persecuted, but we have not been abandoned. We have been knocked down, but we are not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our bodies the reality of the brutal death and suffering of Jesus. As a result, His resurrection life rises and reveals its wondrous power in our bodies as well. 11 For while we live, we are constantly handed over to death on account of Jesus so that His life may be revealed even in our mortal bodies of flesh.” [emphasis added]
~ 2 Corinthians 4:8-11 VOICE
“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” ~Jesus
~Matthew 28:20b NKJV
Our family has a reputation: If it’s broke, sick or something just plain hard to do–call us.
We are not miracle workers but we are hard workers. We can’t fix everything, but we will try to do something.
But there’s one thing we can’t fix.
One thing none of our skills can shape into a victory in the shadow of defeat. One thing that will not give in to elbow grease or commitment to persevere.
We can’t fix Dominic’s being gone.
We can’t make it better.
We can’t undo the deep hole his absence has carved in our hearts and our lives.
And that is very, very hard to live with.
I first wrote about this a few months back when I was pondering the FACT that no matter how wonderful the moment, how beautiful the gift, how marvelous the fellowship of family or friends, I am simply unable to feel the same overflowing abundant joy I once experienced.
Since then, I’ve been thinking about the great heroes of Scripture and studying their stories in detail.
I may be wrong, but I haven’t found one whose life did not contain pain.
It appears that sorrow and suffering in this world is one of the chief tools God uses to help the hearts of His people long for the world for which we are made-the eternal city whose Builder is God:
It was by faith that Abraham obeyed the summons to go out to a place which he would eventually possess, and he set out in complete ignorance of his destination. It was faith that kept him journeying like a foreigner through the land of promise, with no more home than the tents which he shared with Isaac and Jacob, co-heirs with him of the promise. For Abraham’s eyes were looking forward to that city with solid foundations of which God himself is both architect and builder.
Hebrews 11: 8-10 PHILLIPS
Some point to lack of abundant joy as proof of a weak faith.
I counter that obedience, in spite of the lack of abundant joy is proof of rock-solid faith.
Walking on in spite of my empty bucket means that I am trusting God to fill it even when I can’t see how.
Here’s the original post: There’s a Hole in My Bucket
(A psalm by David.)
Listen, Lord, as I pray! You are faithful and honest and will answer my prayer.
~Psalm 143:1 CEV
There are days when I am not interested in a deep dive into Scripture or a lengthy conversation with myself or anyone else about faith.
Days when I’m too tired to try to tease out the meat from the fat or the subtle from the obvious.
On those days I hang on to HOPE by remembering some basic truths:
In my own power I am lost, but God promises not to abandon me to my own resources.
He made me, He called me and He keeps me.
He hears my cry for mercy. He collects my tears. He turns His face toward my suffering and doesn’t look away.
When my heart is overwhelmed, He is my Rock, my Refuge and my Very Present Help in time of trouble.
He will not abandon me.
There’s a common misconception about grief among those who have never experienced the loss of a close loved one.
It goes something like this: The first few weeks, months and the first holidays celebrated without them are the hardest. But once the bereaved make it through THOSE, things get EASIER.
I’m here to tell you that, at least for me, it’s just not true.
Read the rest here: Stronger
It surprised me when I felt anxious after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Not that the doorbell startled me, or that passing the place of the accident was hard nor that hearing motorcycles made my skin crawl.
But that every single day for many, many months anxiety crept up my backbone and made a knot in my neck.
It surprised me that I felt like I was literally going to explode. I would walk and walk and walk just to push the negative energy out of my body.
I was also surprised by what seemed to be random triggers-smells, sights, foods, voices, places-that could send me into a tailspin of rapid heartbeat, hurried breathing, sweaty palms and a feeling of abject terror.
I didn’t know it then, but my experience is common.
It shouldn’t be surprising, really.
We all operate in the world as if it is predictable, as if it follows rules. It’s how we stay sane.
If our minds perceived that most of what we experience has at least a small element of the random, we would sit frozen, terrified to move.
Who can live in a world where you never know what to expect?
When Dominic left this life suddenly, unexpectedly and without warning, my sense of safety and order was violated.
The illusion of control was stripped away. The grid through which I viewed the world was ripped to shreds. What I thought I knew about how things worked was proven unreliable.
Truth is, I never really had all that much control, but burying Dominic made that undeniably obvious.
This brutal disruption in worldview created a kind of internal panic.
I wasn’t conciously aware of it at the time because I was overwhelmed with sorrow and the pain of loss. But my mind was trying to wrap itself around a new understanding of how the world works.
I needed to learn to live in a world where I couldn’t predict outcomes, I couldn’t guarantee safety (even if I did everything “right”) and I couldn’t REALLY plan for tomorrow because tomorrow might very well never come.
I had to figure out how to get out of bed instead of cower under the covers. To get in the car instead of stay at home. To continue to love the people God gave me even though they may be taken any time.
Anxiety is an outward expression of the inward reality of this disruptive process. My body was screaming what my mind was silently sorting out.
As I have worked on incorporating my experience of losing a child into my worldview, the anxiety has decreased.
I don’t expect to ever live free of anxiety again-how can I when I know by experience what most people only imagine?
But I’m learning ways to deal with it when it rears its ugly head.
And I’m learning that every time I triumph over it, I’m stronger and better able to do it the next time.
thelifeididntchoose 