trustworthy

simple trust
©10-31-18 hannah mclean

in spite of the complexity of my thoughts
of the specificity of my words
of the odd angles of my view
i am simple

i trust the LORD

wholly

if He tells me something
i believe Him

if His Word says something it true
i believe it

when i encounter hard things
i expect Him to be who He says He is
i expect Him to do what He says He will do

whether i understand fully now
or remain confused for the moment
i trust Him to reveal in His time
or conceal is His wisdom

i trust the Lord

wholly

and sometimes i wonder why
why do i do that?
why does it seem to come easy when others struggle?
where did that trust come from?
how come i can wholeheartedly lean on the Lord with such simplicity?

and in this season of healing old wounds
i see one reason

for many years
the LORD is the ONLY ONE i trusted 
every other person failed
even my own hands came up empty

but there was the LORD

and He was trustworthy
and i was overwhelmed with fear
and the sight was such a comfort
that i cast myself upon Him
i lay myself before Him
i wound myself around Him
i placed myself within His mighty arms

and in that place of trust
i found peace

and in that place of trust
i still find peace

and in that place of trust
i will always find peace

because simply put
the LORD is trustworthy
and in that sweet simplicity
i can wholly rest

-----

Isaiah 26:3–4 “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in You. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD God is an everlasting rock.”

old wounds

To heal the wounds, we must be willing to look at them...and some of mine are straight up ugly.
---
my femininity and my childhood church
©10-29-18 hannah mclean

these big brown eyes
never changed size
whether they rested beneath my mama’s watchful gaze
or peered out from behind my papa’s leg
or wondered at the sights around me as i grew
or studied the floor in awkward discomfort
as i stumbled through ages and stages
or steeled themselves against the bombarding words
that sought control of what lay behind them.

it was these same big brown eyes
in my changing face throughout the years
you had to look into
as you declared to me
again and again and again
who i was
what i was worth
where i belonged
why i existed.

“sinful girl,”
you yelled into my innocent face
“you are the cause of all men’s sin;
and you must accept
these accusations and assaults against you
because to object is to admit your guilty conscience.”

“vile female,”
you slurred at my growing frame
“your place is one of servitude
because that is all you can be trusted with.”

“wayward woman,”
you proclaimed to my developing mind
“your voice, thoughts and feelings
will always be less than any man’s
because even if he is utterly wicked,
he still has more value than you
and the right to rule over you.”

“your
identity
is
sinner.”

“unfortunate one,”
you spoke with authority over me
“you are clothed in disgrace
because that is the only thing fitting
for the likes of your gender
until a man chooses to marry you
and raise your worth through bearing children.”

“fear me”
you said in Jesus’ name
“because whatever judgments men render true of you
based on your attire
or your obedience to them
will determine your eternal resting place.”

and had not the Lord
washed these big brown eyes with grace

i would still believe you

The greater pain.

I spent a couple of hours weeping today...hour drives to and from allow time for that. I’ve been confronted with some deep wounds this season and am reminding myself continually that the Lord’s intention of revealing is always to bring healing. So I brace myself; letting the waves of pain crash over me instead of bolting away in fear.


Throughout my entire childhood, I was hurt by men claiming to bear the name of Jesus but displaying none of His goodness, and I am afraid that I blocked out things then that I don’t want to see today. These men have left marks across the core of my womanhood in such a way that as I stand back to look at them with new eyes, I see that there are parts of me that are truly mangled. I feel raw and vulnerable, and I ache in such a way that sometimes I feel like my shoulders are physically pulled down and inward.


It’s a different pain...a greater pain...than the pain inflicted on me by men outside of the Body of Christ. That pain is far more bearable than this, because this pain is twisted in such a way that the men who wielded their weapons wore masks labeled “God” so as to create confusion about who was causing my pain. And the hammers used to pound me down did not just land upon my body or my soul but also upon my spirit.


In my mind, I look upon a little girl alone in a desert. So small and so confused about her worth, her position and her pain. Silent tears slide down her face, over lips pressed together, no longer willing to cry out. Barren landscapes on every side show there is no escape, no end in sight. She stands still, facing the first colors of a sunrise, daring to hope that light is coming.


And one of the reasons I wept is because of those rays beginning to peek over the horizon. God is so gentle and wonderfully kind; in this season of revealed wounds, He has surrounded me with good, godly men to take part in healing the pieces of me that have been broken by their own. And I am grateful for this, because I have known wholeness to melt away the pain of what has been twisted simply by being present. And sometimes when past pain feels so physical, visible strength and presence make for the best environment to not just heal, but to cause the redeemed heart to flourish.


----


"The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble bind on strength." 1 Samuel 2:4

To lack no good thing

I was talking with an older woman at family camp this past week; I asked her if there was a verse that she was leaning on through her season of suffering (her answer was Psalm 103) and I wanted to share the one that stands out to me lately.

Psalm 34:10 “The young lions suffer want and hunger; but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.”

To me this profoundly comforting. So many time in my seasons of suffering, loss and affliction, I find myself grieving. I grieve losses of persons, dreams, hopes, comforts, possibilities, dignity, strength, voice, relationship, health...whatever in those moments has been removed from me. And yet, as I stand before the Lord; seeking Him, looking to Him, clinging to Him, weeping to Him...poured out and raw before Him...I am confronted with this lovely truth in Psalm 34:10 and I know: No matter what I have lost in this world, I will leave my posture of prayer lacking “no good thing.”

Young lions are strong, powerful, full of possibility and life. They face their futures on top of the food chain and victories lie before them. Physically speaking, I do not relate. But this verse says, even they fail, even they need, even they will go without.

But I, in all my clumsiness and weakness, certainly qualify for the second half of this verse.

The word “seek” here is translated from the word “Darash,” which means to go to a place, to frequent it, to tread a place with your feet making a path, to go to one in prayer, to implore the aid of, to resort to.

This describes my walk with Jesus through my suffering. I have tread a path to Him in my need; I have crawled that path, run that path, trudged that path, laid upon that path, walked that path. I have frequented it; day after day or moment after moments...whatever is required. I have cast myself upon the Lord in my seeking; acknowledging Him as my Hope and my Help.

And this is why this verse brings me such comfort. Because no matter what my situations, circumstances or sin have robbed me of, they have no power to take from me even ONE good thing. The Lord is mine; all that He has promised me will come to me. And the losses in this life, the suffering, and even the strength of the lion are under His feet.

Questions in Suffering

I was just at a family retreat this past week, and a lot of the teaching was on standing firm through suffering and affliction. It got me thinking about some of the lessons I have learned as I have withstood the storms of life; I woke up each night thinking of the one I’m about to share, I never had a chance to share it while I was there, but I figured I would write it down in case someone needed to hear it.

I think it is a normal thing that in the face of loss, trial or pain we raise our voice and cry out, “Why? Why is this happening?!” Perhaps we search to find comfort in an explanation that will justify what we are enduring...As though, perhaps if we could get on board with the “whys,” we could more easily take on the loss, trial or pain. In the beginning of my adult life, this was the question I sat in.

Then I started to walk with the Lord and I bumped into the Truth that every moment of suffering has purpose (1 Peter 1:6, Lam 3:33, Rom 8:28, etc). That wherever the suffering stems from, God desires to use the painful moments of life to do great work within us. And I stepped past the “Why?” and began to ask, “What? What are You doing?” Perhaps if I could understand what refining work was happening in me, I could find within the explanation the strength to walk through it. So I would walk into my waves with my eyes open for the good work of my good God.

And many years went by. 

The last 3 seasons of suffering for me were excruciating. There were times I could not lift myself off the ground because the weight of it was simply too great. And I found that my question had changed once more as I would hear my voice cry out in raspy weakness, “Who? Who are You?” And the Lord would answer my cry with loving kindness and say to me things like, 
“I AM El Roi; I see you in your suffering." 
"I AM the Prince of Peace; I have peace for you here." 
"I AM Jehovah Rapha; the Lord who heals."
"I AM your Creator; you are not an accident or mistake, you were made with My intention."
"I AM Jehovah-Jireh; all that you need to be sustained through this season is found in Me. 
"I AM the Lord and I am with you.” 
And there we would sit in my ashes together until I could stand.

Because over time and rocky valleys, I have learned that knowing the whys and the whats will not sustain me. It is only in knowing the One who is with me in my suffering that will keep me to the end.

It is Miscarriage and Infant Loss Awareness Month

My Mother Love
©10-5-18 Hannah McLean

it’s a lonely grief
to lose a child 

who has never breathed the air

around me

who has never occupied the space 

outside me

who has never entered into any heart

besides my own

because my Mother Love

is different than another love

it begins the moment

that I know my child exists

as though the heart had already

prepared a place

for them to occupy

one that will now remain 
unfilled

because that space is meant

to contain a lifetime

of moments shared

but will forever echo

with the emptiness 
of what never was

the first miscarriage
was accompanied by eager expectation
anticipated fulfillment of prayer and promise
6 days of knowing, praising, delighting
but all he had was 6 weeks inside me
before I felt the pain of my womb as it snuffed out his tiny life
and of my empty arms

the second miscarriage
was far more recent and far more messy
at 12 weeks they looked inside
my growing center
and found that the heart was no longer beating
for nearly 2 weeks I walked around
a fragile tomb
waiting for my baby to emerge
an excruciating wait
ending in a pool of blood
that nearly drained me of my own life
I gently washed that tiny child
and buried him under
my freshly planted linden tree
and looked down once more into my empty arms

it's a lonely grief
because no one got to love
those babies
like I did
and the expectation is
that the grief be as small
as the life that was lost
but that is not
the measure of my Mother Love