Tag: hope

Not Ashamed to Wait

“Those who wait for Me with hope will not be put to shame.”

Isaiah 49:23c NLV

We love stories of overcomers.  We invite testimonies that end in victory.

We applaud members of the Body who have a “before” and “after” tale of how Jesus plus willpower took them from the dust of defeat to the pinnacle of spiritual success.

But we hide the strugglers and stragglers in the back pews.

If suffering lingers long, whether or not it is in the hands of the one who suffers to do anything about it, we cringe and pull back and hope they go away.

We don’t offer them the pulpit or the Sunday School hour to speak of how Christ continues to be the hope to which they cling.

Because deep down, we think there must be something wrong with them, something wrong with their brand or quality or strength of faith.  If they only got it “right”, they too, would have the victory.

We would rather shush the suffering than face the tension between God’s goodness and His sovereignty.

We shame them to silence by implying they have nothing to share until they are able to wrap their story with a perfect spiritual bow.

We add insult to injury when their need for help exceeds the allotted three weeks or six months or whatever arbitrary deadline we impose on the prayer list and our patience.

But maybe what God has for me and others who suffer long is not a victorious tag line that can be slapped on a photo or shared on social media.  

Maybe it’s only in the continued press of suffering that God reveals Himself in ways the non-suffering never see.

Maybe a dash to declare victory is actually rushing past what God has for us in deep pain and ongoing struggle.

Maybe waiting in hopeful expectation for what God is doing and will do in me and through me IS the victory.

We wait for Yahweh;
He is our help and shield.
For our hearts rejoice in Him
because we trust in His holy name.
May Your faithful love rest on us, Yahweh,
for we put our hope in You.

Psalm 33:20-22 HCSB

 

Set it Aside

Good is something you do, not something you talk about.
Some medals are pinned to your soul, not to your jacket.
Gino Bartali

Set aside the tweets and the memes

Set aside the scores and the football predictions

Set aside the latest greatest whatever.

Move it off the table of your heart 

And create space for the truly important:

The drowning people fleeing war torn countries where children are starving or being buried alive in bombed out rubble;

The families displaced-many forever-from homes that were nowhere near a flood plain and who never imagined they would watch a lifetime of memories float downstream;

The frightened ones trafficked for men’s pleasure-praying that someone, anyone, notices and steps in to save them;

The lonely teen unsure of where to turn until his thoughts become so unendurable that only one way out seems reasonable;

The old man or old woman, forgotten and alone, breathing stale air in a home that isn’t home-no one speaking his name, her name-as if they had already passed from this life to the next.

You think it doesn’t matter much.

You think someone else will take care of it

Until it’s you–

Waiting for light in the darkness

Looking for hope to hold onto

Begging for help as you’re drowning in despair.

As it is, you boast in your proud intentions.  All such boasting is evil. Therefore whoever knows the right thing to do, yet fails to do it, is guilty of sin.

James 4:17 The Berean Study Bible

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

A Little Extra Grace

Each day I am reminded by sights, smells, sounds and memories that Dominic is in Heaven and not here.  

But there are moments and seasons when his absence is particularly strong-when I can’t breathe in without also breathing a prayer, “Father, let me make it through this minute, this hour, this day.”

And that’s when I need grace-from family, friends and strangers.

Image result for everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about quote

Anyone who knows ANYONE that lives with loss knows that Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays and remembrance days are sure to be especially hard for those left behind.

What some may not know is that there are other, hidden, pitfalls on this journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

For many bereaved parents the beginning of the school year is one of them.

Even though my son  was long past school age when he left, that shiny penny newness and promise of another year of school, another step toward maturity and the rest of life, another marker on the road to what every parent hopes will be a beautiful future is a painful reminder that my child won’t be doing anything new here on earth.

And a little extra grace goes a long way toward making this season easier to endure.  

  • A bit more patience as I walk slowly across the parking lot, lost in thought and unaware you are behind me trying to get on with life or park your car.
  • A smile when I accidentally bump my cart into yours in the grocery aisle-having just passed his favorite food or smelled coffee and been instantly transported to his finicky passion for all things caffeine
  • Calm responses when I jump to conclusions, cut you off mid-sentence or answer a query with a less-than-kind tone of voice.

Want to be especially encouraging to a parent missing their child in heaven?

  • A text or message or a “thinking of you” card can turn a dismal day into one full of sunshine.
  • Do you have a special memory or memento you could share?  What a gift!

If you see us in these next few days and weeks as thoughts and hearts turn from summer to a new semester, be patient-we are once again reminded that our child’s earthly story has ended.

It’s a hard truth to embrace. 

Every. time.

Encouraging My Heart

It’s easy to be discouraged.  

Look around.

If I listen to the news, the world is falling apart. When I look in the mirror-I’m falling apart.  

And not a minute goes by that I don’t miss my son in heaven.

But the world-not the WORLD- nor my personal world rests on MY shoulders.

And it doesn’t rest on the shoulders of some ancient made-up god either.

It, and I, were created by and for Jesus Christ.  He holds it and me together.

Now Christ is the visible expression of the invisible God. He existed before creation began, for it was through him that every thing was made, whether spiritual or material, seen or unseen. Through him, and for him, also, were created power and dominion, ownership and authority. In fact, every single thing was created through, and for him. He is both the first principle and the upholding principle of the whole scheme of creation. And now he is the head of the body which is composed of all Christian people. Life from nothing began through him, and life from the dead began through him, and he is, therefore, justly called the Lord of all. It was in him that the full nature of God chose to live, and through him God planned to reconcile in his own person, as it were, everything on earth and everything in Heaven by virtue of the sacrifice of the cross.

Colossians 1:15-20 PHILLIPS

So when I lose courage, I will look to the Author and Perfector of my faith.  I will cling to the One Who has died, was buried, resurrected and rose to sit at the right hand of my Father in Heaven.

I will take my eyes off the storm and fix them on Jesus, Who calms the storm.  

Because He Who began a good work in me, will be faithful fo complete it.

began a good work

Who Needs Hope Unless They are Broken?

The gospels don’t hide the fact that Jesus came to a broken world.

Religious leaders who were supposed to be guarding and guiding God’s people were instead protecting positions of power and leading others astray.

The masses were beaten down-helpless under the burden of Roman occupation and hopeless that they could ever “measure up” under the system of customs and laws that had been imposed by the Pharisees.

Jesus spoke truth to this reality, He didn’t deny it.

Jesus looked brokenness in the face and promised redemption and restoration.

But He admitted that in THIS world, the one we walked on, there would be tribulation.  He didn’t promise a pain-free existence, He promised His Presence in the midst of pain.

And that is the power of the cross-that an instrument of torture became a symbol of hope.

What the enemy meant for evil, God used for good.

When we try to soft-pedal the struggles of life, when we try to shape our stories into victorious narratives with tidy endings, when we deny the presence of pain, we diminish the power of the cross.

Read more here:  denial

Adjusting to the Darkness

A precious friend sent a small book through the mail just after we buried Dominic.  Lament for a Son-the title was enough to draw me in-and the pages ministered to my soul.

Here was someone who, like me, was wailing for what was lost.

Someone who was declaring out loud what my heart harbored in secret: that the darkness of child loss is unrelenting and horrible.

Will my eyes adjust to this darkness? Will I find you in the dark – not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness? Has anyone ever found you there? Did they love what they saw? Did they see love? And are there songs for singing when the light has gone dim? Or in the dark, is it best to wait in silence?
Noon has darkened. As fast as they could say, ‘He’s dead,’ the light dimmed. And where are you in the darkness? I learned to spy you in the light. Here in this darkness, I cannot find you. If I had never looked for you, or looked but never found, I would not feel this pain of your absence. Or is not your absence in which I dwell, but your elusive troubling presence?

Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament for a Son

I comprehend Wolterstorff’s question-“Will I find you [God] in the dark-not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness?”

I had long followed the light of Christ.  Walked boldly even when the light was very dim. Trusted the smallest flicker of a tiny candle of hope when night closed in and began to speak fear to my heart.

But this-this unrelenting, palpable darkness that swallowed any light and even the promise of light-this was new to me.

I understood David’s cry:

“How long, O Eternal One? How long will You forget me? Forever?
    How long will You look the other way?

How long must I agonize,
    grieving Your absence in my heart every day?”

Psalm 13:1-2a VOICE

But time is helping my eyes adjust to the darkness.

I am learning to feel my way around in this new room, to navigate days that feel more like night.

I know in my heart that this night will not last forever.

I will be able to say:

“But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with me.”

Psalm 13:5-6 ESV

God has promised that Jesus is the Light and even this darkness cannot overcome Him.

In the beginning the Word already existed. The Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was already with God in the beginning. Everything came into existence through him. Not one thing that exists was made without him. He was the source of life, and that life was the light for humanity. 5The light shines in the dark, and the dark has never extinguished it.

John 1:1-5 GWT

 

 

The Shadowlands

 

Isn’t God supposed to be good? Isn’t He supposed to love us? Does God want us to suffer? What if the answer to that question is, ‘Yes'”? I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that He makes us the gift of suffering.

I’m not sure that God wants us to be happy. I think He wants us to be able to love and be loved. He wants us to grow-up. We think our childish toys bring us all the happiness there is and our nursery is the whole wide world. But something must drive us out of the nursery to the world of others and that something is suffering.

You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which the sculptor carves forms of men. The blows of His chisel, which hurt so much, are what makes us perfect.

C.S. Lewis

Lewis referred to this life as “The Shadowlands”.  The place where we see the shape of the promise but not its substance.

I am caught between the world I live in and the world to come.  There is beauty in both, but only in Eternity will my heart be at home.

Right now, I am Living Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection

not your best life

 

 

 

 

 

How Do You Breathe?

It was the question I asked the bereaved mother that came to my son’s funeral.

It was the question a mother asked me as we stood by her granddaughter’s casket, surrounded by family and flowers.

And it is the right question.

Because when the breath leaves the body of your child, and you look down at the shell that used to be the home of a vibrant, living soul, you simply can. not. breathe.

What should be an autonomic, automatic, don’t-even-think-about-it bodily function escapes you.

When your lungs finally scream for oxygen, your body takes over, against your will.

And even more than two years later, it’s where I still live-between the conscious world of aching loss that drains me of the will to go on and the unconcious biology of a body still functioning without my permission.

I live in a no-man’s-land with one foot in the HERE AND NOW and one foot in FOREVER.

But there are no bright flags to mark its borders, no crossing guards to give warning to the people I mingle with every day that they are over there- outside my world of hurt-and I am stuck in here.

And so they wave from across the way, cheerful and unburdened by the weight of sorrow I drag around.  They give me odd looks now and then, vaguely unsettled by my inability to plunge unrestrained into their fun.

Memory escapes them-what happened? how long has it been? shouldn’t she be over that by now?

They can’t understand, and I’m thankful for that.

“How do you breathe?”

Only the ones who share the secret knowledge know the answer to that question.

You learn to will your heart to keep beating and your lungs to keep filling because there are others who depend on you and who need you to stay.

You can’t hold your breath forever, even if you want to.  

You lean harder on the hope you have in Christ.

You recite verses and hymns and fill your mind with the promises of Jesus.

And you beg the Spirit of God to fill you to fullness with His breath, His life and His hope.

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Romans 15:13 NLT

 

 

 

Safe Friends

I hope you have one.  

That one person who knows your greatest joys and deepest pain and keeps it locked in her heart as if the secrets were her own.  

She is a gift from God to me, that friend.  

She’s the one I call when I’m wracked with sobs and the words won’t come.  She knows it’s me and just waits on the line until I can speak. She gets my jokes, knows my weaknesses, my strengths and helps me steer a better path on this hard road called “Life”.

She is a safe friend.

listening is a postive act

A safe friend listens.  

Just listens.  

She isn’t formulating an answer while I am talking, she isn’t rounding up cliches or Bible verses or platitudes meant to make her sound wise and shush my sharing.  She hears my heart even when my words might not make sense.

A safe friend sees.  

Really sees.  

She looks in my eyes and pays attention to my expression. She notices when my smile doesn’t match the tone of my words or the silent language of my hands.

She won’t let me by with a quick, “I’m fine!” meant to brush off the real need to spill my guts.

A safe friend stays.  

As long as it takes.

She doesn’t leave in the middle of a hard conversation.  Even if life gets in the way, she will come back and pick it up.  She checks in with me and doesn’t let time unwind the threads that bind us together.  If I don’t contact HER, she contacts ME.

 

 

A safe friend walks with me.  

No matter how steep the path, no matter how rocky the road. We might be hobbling along, broken together, but she keeps going and she keeps me going.

 

 

A safe friend encourages me to look to Jesus.

She admits that she doesn’t have all the answers.  She agrees that there are many things we will have to wait to understand.  But she reminds me that for this, we have Jesus.  We have a High Priest Who was tempted in every way yet was without sin.  We can enter boldly into the Holy of Holies because by His blood the veil is rent.

She doesn’t issue spiritual ultimatums that undermine, instead of strengthen, my faith in Christ.

friends pick us up

 

A safe friend doesn’t cut me out of her life when my life is a mess.  

Even if the mess is of my own making.  She helps me untangle the knot, own up to the sin, reach out to Christ and make amends.

 

A safe friend doesn’t just “happen”.

She allows the grace and mercy and love of Jesus to mold her heart so that He can use her.

Everyone NEEDS a safe friend.

Anyone willing can BE that friend.

kindness