Fault and chastisement

I have spent my entire adult life battling health issues. Literally less than 2 months after my 18th birthday I got a diagnosis that seemed to determine the course of everything that followed; and when a doctor associated it with Celiac’s Disease (an autoimmune disorder that I believe was triggered in me after the death of my little brother when I was very young), I took the blame for the catastrophe that was my body. At every bump and pit along my health journey, I have looked backwards continually at my 18-year-old self and said, “It's your own fault.”

When my body fell apart at the failure of my thyroid, it was my own fault. When I lost my ability to speak after complications with surgery, it was my own fault. When I had to work extra hard for the smallest step forward or when my body fell 10 steps back, it was my own fault. When my body couldn't recover after giving birth...when I miscarried my babies...couldn't regulate my blood pressure...my fault, my fault, my fault. For years and years, I have owned my body's weakness and failures as the consequence of my ignorant teenage choices to not stay off gluten. "It's your own fault," my internal drill sergeant reminds me, "suck it up and accept your consequences. You gave up your chance at health when you were young, so stop complaining. You didn't respect it while you had it, you don't deserve it back. Stand up and keep moving forward."

In some weird way, this acceptance of blame has sort of wrangled my emotions as I have rollercoastered through the ups and downs, reminding me to keep standing instead of rolling over and giving up. It has forced me to find my contentment outside of my circumstances.

And that’s not all bad.

But it’s also not good. Yesterday my drill sergeant’s voice started to bother me, some part of me that the last 24 years hasn't hardened, some part that hasn’t been snuffed out by my body's failures suddenly stood up and pushed back.

“I don’t think that's true,” this unusual spark of resistance called out over the familiar wrestle to quench my sadness. "I don't think it’s my fault."

I tried. I tried to get better. I did everything I knew how to for years and years. I have worked hard for my wellbeing (physically, mentally, spiritually, and relationally), and while I have laid hold of much holistic healing, my physical body still languishes in the dirt. I’ve learned how to rewire my brain toward it over the years; I’ve found moments I have actively felt compassion for it, I’ve intentionally reconnected to it (overriding a trauma response of disassociating) in spite of the emotional turmoil I endure by allowing myself to remain in it, I’ve actively painted it with dignity and value and reminded myself of its goodness by design. And every time I think I’ve got to be done, that the bottom of this gangrenous wound has to be uncovered, I keep finding more.

So today I have been processing my internal resistance. I’ve considered the little voice that stood in the face of the commander and said, “It’s not my fault.”

What is the truth?

The truth is that I have never looked at another sick or suffering person and thought, “It’s your own fault. Suck it up.” I’ve never bypassed compassion and commanded someone to get in line under their responsibility for their own weakness. Why would I judge myself with such harshness when I have never thought so harshly about another?

The truth is that there is much in my life that has affected my body that I have not chosen.

The truth is that association and causation are not the same thing. I don’t know why my thyroid failed me when I was 18-years-old.

The truth is that even if I had messed up everything in my life in regards to my health, I still deserve the basic human compassion that shelters the path of suffering.

“What is the truth?” I asked the Lord.

And He said to me, “Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed.” [Isaiah 53:4–5]

The word “chastisement” set itself on me, its definition laying out the reality of this lie’s root. To chastise means to censure severely, inflicting punishment on (as by whipping). A censure is a judgment involving condemnation. For 24 years I have carried the condemnation of my broken body; the sentence of a life in the dust has whipped me into line every time I have bucked beneath it. It has pressed upon my shoulders with such weight that I’ve given it permission to remain because I have owned it as a righteous judgment against me.

But He said to me, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” [Romans 8:1]

Break every chain, Lord. No more lies.

He has borne my grief and sorrow, He has been pierced and crushed and chastised and wounded for my peace and for my healing.

“It’s not my fault,” I said over and over again today. Practicing the truth so that the next time the lie falls from my mouth I can crush it before it lands. May the whip that has fallen so many times be absorbed by the One who lent me His body so that I can walk free.

The eager rose bush

I went out to look in my flower bed this afternoon, and found myself standing in front of my rose bush. I bought it this Spring at ALDI, a bare twig maybe 10” tall for $7 figuring that even if it flopped, it was worth the $7 risk because…what if it didn’t? And there in my flower bed stood the former twig. While it still had only 2 branches, it was now 3 1/2’ tall, boasting three 4” roses and 2 more in lesser states of bloom. It stretched itself toward the sky, straight upright, confident that it was capable of great beauty, and it opened up its blossoms into sweet aromatic pedals of many shades of pink, unaware that a single branch was not suppose to stand so tall nor hold so many roses.

Its two overflowing branches made me laugh as I thought, “I want the confidence of this rose bush.”

This rose bush apparently had not been informed that it had fallen into my uninformed hands; it was unhindered by its time of pruning, its season of waiting to find its garden, its time of not yet being planted in the right soil. In spite of its dormancy and its apparent dying, it was eager to flourish without hinderance the moment it touched the earth.

It seemed to call out to me, “Why wouldn’t I go all out? This is what I was made for!”

It didn’t know I would stand and admire its blooms, but it knew its blooms would hold all the beauty embedded in them by its Maker. It seemed to have the glorious understanding that to bud and to blossom and to burst into full bloom in the light of the sun was what it was made for….and so it threw its branches out into the open air and simply lived to the fullness of its potential for its age and stage of growth.

I want to be like the rose bush.

I was talking to the Lord this morning about my desire to learn how to dream by faith. I've learned in my 43 years that while I am a dreamer by nature—one who dreams big for the people in my life—I am crippled in my ability to dream for myself. Maybe it’s the remnants of disappointments of the past, or the lingering effects of being pressed down…maybe it’s the leftover shades of fear not yet washed from my nature… wherever it comes from, I find myself wishing to confront my limp.

While it is true that I sometimes do big (for me), uncomfortable things; I mostly just do them in obedience, expectation doesn’t usually have a seat at the table. I invite people to a Bible study without the expectation that anyone would come. I publish a book without the expectation that anyone would buy it. I write a blog without the expectation that anyone would read it. I share a testimony without the expectation that anyone would believe it. I sing a song without the expectation anyone (but my dad) would want to listen to my voice. And maybe it's not so bad a thing to be surprised from time to time if someone shows up or stops to listen or finds themself blessed, but I do think it is a strange position to be in to repeatedly reach out my hand assuming I will probably find only empty air and to have genuine peace at having reached out anyway.

I look around me and watch people in my life planning and dreaming with joyful expectancy; they start businesses, prayer movements and ministries that utilize their gifting and turn the fire that burns in their heart into a productive blaze. They sit behind tables filled with their creative endeavors and believe that someone would want one for their own. They walk into rooms and open their mouths with the expectation that someone will consider what comes out of them and choose to take part. And I watch them…marveling at what, to me, seems like magnificent boldness. Dreams and expectancy of possibility combining to gift the human soul.

Are you one of those people? A person who takes leaps of faith and builds with wild expectation? How did you become like the rose bush? Teach me your ways.

The Fear of the Lord

Psalm 111:10 "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever! 

I taught in children’s church this Sunday, and my meditation and study in preparation for this lesson was SO FRUITFUL that I am going to share it with you.

Every time I approach the passage that I am going to teach, I ask the Lord, “What do You want me to tell the kids?” There are so many lessons to be gleaned from every passage that I need to allow Him to direct me. This past week, I was preparing to teach Joshua 2 where Rahab hides the spies from Israel and then ties a scarlet cord in her window so she will be spared when Jericho falls by the Lord’s hand. I read and reread the passage, waiting for most of the week until finally He said, “Teach them about the fear of the Lord.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever read Joshua 2 specifically looking for what it teaches about the fear of the Lord (I sure hadn't)…but whoa. What a wonderful story to help bring to the surface what the fear of the Lord is and what it looks like lived out. So I am going to share the gist of my lesson for children’s church if you are interested in learning more about the fear of the Lord as it was displayed through the life of Rahab. Go read Joshua 2 before you keep reading (it’s only 24 verses, so it won’t take long).

Scripture says multiple times that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…” The word nerd in me requires us to define three of the words in that sentence:

YIR’â: Fear of God, reverence (to regard AND treat with deep respect)

BEGINNING: The point in time or space when something starts

WISDOM: Knowledge and understanding that give you the ability to make good judgements

Wisdom isn’t just knowing things, it is being able to take what you know and use that knowledge to live your life the right way. So consider that: Without the fear of the Lord, we have missed the BEGINNING of how to use what we know to live our life in the goodness that God intends.

THE FEAR OF THE LORD FOLLOWS THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF WHO GOD IS. In Rahab’s statement to the men in verses 8–12, she uses the name Jehovah four times; Jehovah is the formal name of the one true God. I was looking back through scripture, and while I certainly didn’t look on every page, I couldn’t find places where gentiles who weren’t believers used the name Jehovah. Rahab was acknowledging that the God of Israel was the true God. The others in her city were offered the same opportunity to fear God as Rahab was; she describes how they had watched Israel for 40 years—they saw God bring them out of Egypt, through the red sea, conquer kings—and the others in her city were terrified of Israel…but they did not acknowledge or revere Israel's God. But Rahab did, and she called Him by His name.

THE FEAR OF THE LORD DRAWS US TO GOD. Fear as we often think of it tends to send us fleeing and hiding, but the fear of the Lord has a different affect. When Rahah saw who God was, she drew near. She came close and tended to His people and spoke with the hopes that her voice would reach His ears.

THE FEAR OF THE LORD MELTS THE HEART IN BOTH HEALTHY FEAR AND HUMILITY. What happens when something melts? A hard thing becomes soft and movable. Rahab knew the God of Israel had the right to judge her; He had the right to give her city into the hands of His people. Her pride melted away in the face of the Lord, and she, with great humility asked for mercy. You can see her humility here in her plea in verses 12–13; she didn’t even ask for them to spare HER because of her kindness to them (she knew what she deserved), instead she asked them to save her family. All of Rahab’s pride was gone, she recognized that God could rightfully judge her and she humbled herself before Him.

THE FEAR OF THE LORD LEADS TO OBEDIENCE. Rahab obeyed. The men of Israel told her that she should tie a scarlet cord in her window to be spared Jericho’s plight and she did it…right away. They were barely out of sight and the scarlet cord was already being secured in the window. A heart that fears the Lord will look to Him with the posture that says, “I will do whatever You ask.” Rahab didn’t ask why a scarlet cord mattered, she didn’t ask when they would come back, she didn’t wait and see if she should bother doing what they said…she simply obeyed and put her hope in the God she had acknowledged as true. She would have done anything required of her. Her decisions showed that she had faith, and she is mentioned in Hebrews 11, a chapter known for presenting us with heroes of the faith. It says, “By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish with those who were disobedient, because she had given a friendly welcome to the spies.” Her obedience by faith, and the actions she took because of it, saved both her life and the lives of her family.

Here is the thing: When you fear God, it will change the way you live your life…it is impossible to fear God and keep living however you want because NOONE is more respectable and exalted than Jehovah. Because He is who He says He is, when we acknowledge Him, it will effect everything about us. The fear of the Lord is one of the biggest things missing from the American Church. This deficit allows us to remain apathetic, half-hearted, lukewarm, and polluted. If we really believe the Bible is true and that the God of the Bible is who He says He is, there is a clear path we will find ourselves on…and Rahab the prostitute shows us what that looks like.

to touch the Father

 the wrestle
©4-4-2024 hannah mclean

He is Jehovah-Rapha, the God who heals
we come to Him again and again
when the broken world breaks us
when the wounded world wounds us
when the fallen nature seeks to fell us  

“be who You say You are,” we plead

and sometimes in our seeking of healing,
the Lord reaches out and touches our body
or our soul
and we are well in a moment

but often times the healing is slow
we must squirm out from under our bondage
feel the pain of the washing of punctured flesh
our deliverance requiring time
the wait warranting a wrestle

and our hearts cry out, “Why?!”

this morning as i looked into the face of the raising sun
and pondered why the wrestle
the Spirit pressed on me
“it is in the wrestle that we get to touch the Father.”

healing in a moment feels the touch of God
but healing through a wrestle
finds the hands clinging to the Father’s arms
beating against the Father’s chest
winding around the Father’s feet

the wrestle is where we draw near:
near enough to feel
the breath of God upon our face;
near enough to feel with our fingers
the finished work of Jesus;
near enough to know not just the Father’s touch
but what it feels like to be with Him

with every reaching hand
and clinging grasp
we learn both the strength
and the gentleness
of the Almighty’s hands and heart

do not despise the wrestle
the wrestle is where we touch the Father

heralding the end of a reign

a broken reign
©11/13/2023 hannah mclean

a broken reign
my knees no more will bend
my King bent low
that death’s cruel rule would end
bound in His mercy I
find love a noble steed
now raised I ride with Him
as one who’s free indeed

a broken reign
sin’s barren throne no more
a royal carpet rolls
red paves the temple floor
bound in the Father’s love
peace spills across this stone
now wrapped in holy light
no more to walk alone

a broken reign
replaced by worthy King
righteous and just
His rule my joy to sing
bound in the hope of life
eternal courts I’ll stride
in heavenly unity
i even now abide

A Testimony: A Dignified Woman

I wrote the testimony below sometime last year; at the time, it was the gathering of words articulating where I stood in my journey of healing my wounded femininity. I sat on it for a long time, careful which hands I placed it in as the Lord faithfully brought it to completion. But yesterday I had an interaction that struck me in a way that opened the door to share it with you: I had a woman I am acquainted with take me aside and sweetly affirm and encourage me in my giftings and my walk.

This might seem simple and small, but it was sort of the cherry on the top of a heap of kind and affirming words that women have offered me over the last few years. I want you to understand that I have spent the majority of my walk with Jesus with my eyes forward and my hands extended; I have received from the Lord and offered to anyone who cared to accept whatever He placed in them. I had no doubts of the worth of His work in me, and yet, no expectations that anyone wanted what I held out…because, as you will read below, I was taught not only did I have nothing to offer the Body of Christ, but anything I DID have the audacity to bring would inevitably cause it damage because I am a woman. The majority of the time I have followed Jesus, I mostly have just quietly fixed my eyes on Him and done whatever He told me to do, setting my obedience and His faithfulness to me as the only desired outcome I could perceive.

At the beginning of this year, I printed a prayer booklet for the women at my church. I almost didn’t do it; I set the call down on a heaped up table to wait another’s direction and time. But the Lord picked it back up and set it back into my hands with the firm reminder that it was between us. So I completed the work and looking down into the box of bound booklets, I felt a wave of freedom wash over me.

Do you remember when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead? He came out of the tomb, fully alive but wrapped in grave cloths; the living being hidden beneath the bands of death. And Jesus said to his family, “Unbind him, and let him go.” It was the family that had wrapped him up, and it was the family that took part in the unbinding. I spent 17 years undergoing spiritual abuse of those who claimed the name of Jesus, they bound me up in clothes that were meant for the dead. But as the Lord has brought about deep healing in me over the last 6 years, He has brought along side me those who carry the name of Jesus to unbind me so that the life that the Lord has borne in me can be seen and known and bear witness to the redeeming power of our Savior.

If you have been among those voices, who have championed me forward, helped wipe the dirt off my face, stilled the shaking of my hands, tipped up my chin to speak encouragement, cheered me as I stumbled along, taken the time to speak worth over my walk…thank you. Thank you for affirming the healing work the Lord has done in me, for taking part in the redeeming of this broken woman and ensuring that what the enemy has sought to keep hidden is drawn fully into the light. I don’t know what all the Lord has in store for me, but He has restored my ability to dream, and I know that the testimony He has given me will roll out before me as I take each step of faith.
 
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Growing up, I did not know I had dignity.
It was whipped out of me with skewed teachings on scripture,
it was stripped off of me with the glares and disdain that grew as my body did,
it was erased from my personhood as effectively as my humanity was dismissed,
and it evaded me as surely as my womanhood did not.
I was taught to fear myself,
that the depravity of nature that came along with my femininity
was to be hated
and, if i knew what was good for me,
should cause me to tremble my way
right under the superior moral covering of angry men.

Growing up, I did not have a voice.
It was silenced when I questioned,
rebuked when I expressed thoughts that did not align with those over me,
dismissed because I was female.
I remember wanting to be heard;
for someone to believe that the ponderings that swirled behind
my peace-keeping eyes had value,
for someone to tell me that the brain I was given
had a greater use than knowing recipes and storing shopping lists,
for someone to allow my hopes, dreams and imaginings
to contribute to the living that was happening around me.
I wanted someone to let me speak
and to affirm my right to use my voice by taking the time to listen to it.

Growing up, I was taught to loathe the fullness of my femininity;
I was taught to minimize myself
to the tidy boxes of convenience and usefulness,
and to discard the rest of me at the door.
In my fullness I was simply too much;
I was to require nothing from the world around me
and to bring to it only what it wanted from me.
And the message was clear:
woman is an object to be used and taken from…
any part of her that pushes back against this message
is rebellious and wicked and should be subdued at all cost,
and every measure taken to ensure this message sinks in
is on the tab of her own conscience.

When I graduated high school at 17, I moved out of my childhood home a week later. I left behind religion and all things related to it in the hopes that I would find a better understanding of who I was and a better box of womanhood to climb into. But all I found was the same degradation in a different suit. Everywhere around me were voices and imagery shouting that dignity, value and purpose were measured by people “qualified” to make such determinations; the boxes I found had only enough room for my usefulness or my ability to offer what was wanted from my body. Everywhere I looked, it was confirmed to me that woman equated with object, not person.

And I accepted my lot.

When I encountered Jesus, I watched Him from a distance. He sat at a beautiful table where He had laid out a feast of wonderful things. There were chairs and people seated around Him, delighting in His presence and His benefits. I saw grace overflowing from the table, the crumbs of which fell onto the floor around His feet where dogs licked them up. My eyes bypassed the people who were seated and watched the dogs. I was struck with hope by the fact that He let them come near Him and I thought, “If He lets the dogs come, surely so can I.” I was fascinated by watching them take the crumbs as their own without being shooed away and I thought, “If I could just have a crumb of His grace, that would be enough.” I mustered up all the courage I had, and making myself as small as I could, I took my place with the dogs and crawled over to His table…but when I reached out my hand for a crumb of grace, it found instead His hand for He had bent down to the ground where I was, and touched my hand when it reached out. He looked into my dumbstruck eyes and drew me up from the floor, pulling out a chair beside Him with the invitation to sit in a seat at His table and partake in the fullness of His feast.

And that wonder…
that wonder at being lifted from floor to table,
from beast to person,
from intruder to invited,
from beggar to beloved…
that wonder has never worn off.

That was 17 years ago and I have spent those years “growing up” in Him.
But unlike the years before it,
THIS upbringing redeems and heals
as it brings about the undoing of the past
because I am accompanied by His Word and by His Spirit.

As I grow up with Him, I have learned that I have dignity.
It was placed into me by the hands that formed me,
it is written onto me by the words of Scripture,
it covers me as surely the blood of Jesus washes me
and the Holy Spirit declares me His own,
it is as certain as the imago Dei that cannot be erased from my being.

As I grow up with Him, I am learning how to use my voice.
A voice that I am not just invited to use, but compelled to use;
a voice that does not merely exist, but has something of value to say;
a voice that carries the power of life and death;
a voice with place, position and purpose in heavenly pursuits;
a voice that carries His authority,
brings forth His word,
gives vision to the treasures hidden in the quiet of His presence.
I have a voice that no longer bends to permission given or denied by man,
but speaks in obedience to the Father.
A voice that seeks not for glory of self,
but for glory of God.
A voice no longer silenced in kingdom purposes.

As I grow up with Him, I am learning to walk in the wholeness
and fullness of a female who bears His image.
Because I have come to believe this Truth:
A good God, in love, created woman in His image for His glory.
And I can stand upright, with an uplifted chin,
as a woman—
redeemed and set apart—
bearing witness by my life of the heart of the Father for humanity.
As a woman,
I am not a hinderance to the gospel,
but a conduit through which it can be more fully known.

I am still in the process of “growing up.”
But if any of this resonated with you, then I want to bear witness to you that in every way we have been broken as women, the broken body of Jesus will surely heal us.

The worship that lingers

It was an extravagant act of worship.
She took the expensive ointment and anointed the feet of Jesus.
The feet of Creator God clothed with the flesh of created man.
With great audacity, she unwrapped her hair and wiped His holy feet.
And with great audacity, He let her.

And it says, “The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” John 12:3b

It filled the senses of those who observed it.
It filled the home where it had been poured out.
It lingered on the clothes of those who were there and followed them to their own dwellings.
It stuck to Jesus’ skin, leaving imprints wherever His feet stepped.

Mary’s worship lingered.
It lingered upon her head as a fragrant crown of beauty
reserved for the ones who bring whole-hearted worship.
And when she lay her head down that night,
the fragrance would remind her that He had received her.

And yet
both Mary and Messiah knew,
that the ointment was for anointing
that when the fragrance wore off
there would be a burial
for the heel which held the fragrance
would be bruised for the one who wiped it with her hair.

Holy Blood for tainted flesh

deliverance
©5-7-2022 hannah mclean

i can feel the turning
of the tides that wouldn’t let up
i can hear the falling
of the chains that wouldn’t release
i can smell the changing
of the seasons that have brought perpetual decline
i can see the glories
of the hidden mysteries of His heart

who are you,
o enemy of Christ’s beloved,
to stop the Finished Work
from hitting its mark?

for what is it that poured with such a force
to push back the tide i couldn’t bear up against
to break the chains i could not pry apart
to change the days from barren to fruitful
to pull aside the veil to reveal the depths and heights?

it’s the Blood
Holy Blood for tainted flesh
Redeeming Blood for bloody curse
Blood that speaks a better word
the final word
with authority that makes you flee
carrying your workmanship away with you

and so i feel and hear and smell and see
i let the waters shift
the power move
the seasons transform before my eyes
where years of faith give way to sight
and endless darkness give way to light
and i lean in
into the wonders coming
from the fullness of the Finished Work
i have longed and labored to lay hold of

Rewriting the narrative

Woman
©12/14/2021 Hannah McLean

I am not a broken thing
I am whole
I am a healing woman
[Isaiah 61:4]

I am not a worthless thing
I am loved
I am a dignified woman
[Proverbs 31:25]

I am not a helpless thing
I am kept
I am a fortified woman
[Psalm 18:31-35]

I am not a forgotten thing
I am known
I am an intentioned woman
[Psalm 139:16]

I am not a shameful thing
I am redeemed
I am a beautified woman
[Psalm 96:9]

I am not a silent thing
I am sealed
I am a joyful woman
[Psalm 16:11]

I am not a useful thing
I am filled
I am a devoted woman
[Psalm 40:3]

A thing has been
But a woman will be
For my identity comes not from my woundings
But from my Maker

the undoing

un
©10-10-2021 hannah mclean

it’s the words
that buried themselves
in the deepest parts
of me
hidden in places
i haven’t thought to seek
emerging from the shadows
in the moments
of my own emergence
to convince me
to back down
to remain within the confines
of their hinderances

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

i know what it is
to be Lazarus
called out from my tomb
with new breath in my lungs
and grave clothes
binding what was once dead

but what of Jesus’ words before
the miracle of new life
“did I not tell you that if you believed
you would see the glory of God?”
a life redeemed is one of glory on display
the extent of which
is only fully seen in the unbinding
of the remnants of death

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

my soul cries out
for deliverance from the pain
of these words
from their power to stifle
growth in me
from their enduring pursuit of
convincing me
to shut up the
wells of life
that begin to flow forth from
the places they seek to keep residence

the soul ties of silence
insist my knees bend
to their masterful reasoning
for only when my words
remain hidden inside my mouth
do these words
return to their crevices within

unwanted
unaccepted
unnecessary
unwelcome
unknown

but in the lifting of my ear
i hear resounding over
their degrading cadence
a different song
the sound of glad rejoicing
of love that quiets and
of exultation from holy lips
for He has tended to this broken
He has gathered in this outcast
He has taken on Himself this shame
He has brought near His side this one
who has stood wishing on the outside
and He has made known

for only in the presence
of the Lord my God
do the “un”s meet the silence
of their own undoing

wanted
accepted
necessary
welcome
known

 

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"The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty One who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by His love; He will exult over you with loud singing. I will gather those of you who mourn for the festival, so that you will no longer suffer reproach. Behold, at that time I will deal with all your oppressors. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. At that time I will bring you in, at the time when I gather you together; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes,” says the Lord. ~ Zephaniah 3:17–20

Reproach

REPROACH: An expression of rebuke or disapproval; a cause or occasion of blame, discredit or disgrace; one subjected to censure [judgment involving condemnation; the act of blaming or condemning sternly] or scorn.

 

I can feel the pain of my soul—the entirety of my person—as I read this word and its meanings. Clearly this word remains stamped upon me; it covers beauty never realized like the defacing of graffiti, and mars like the careless application of a stamp slammed down with force. Reproach. The cause of shame…The subject of disgrace…An object to be scorned…A person to be despised…The one to be blamed…I want to accept these reproaches, to rationalize why they belong to me, to justify the hands that stamped them there (even my own). I want to examine each mark to determine its validity to see if the merit behind it should allow—no, demand—that I keep it to wear as a badge of dishonor, a warning to my future ambitions. 

But You look down at me from Your hanging place, where your blood stains both the wood and the ground beneath it. You’ve already determined the merit of my markings. You’ve already sorted what has been cast upon me, what has rested upon me, what ways I am to be despised.

“I am the Lamb without blemish; My blood makes the marked ones clean; My love covers a multitude of sins and leaves the ones who receive it free. I’ll take it all— every marking, every declaration, every judgment, every disgrace, every ounce of blame…the sum of all your reproach.”

"You know my reproach,
    and my shame and my dishonor;
    my foes are all known to You.

Reproaches have broken my heart,
    so that I am in despair.
I looked for pity, but there was none,
    and for comforters, but I found none.

They gave me poison for food,
    and for My thirst they gave Me sour wine to drink."

Psalm 69:19–21

May I walk by faith, not by sight.

The Chasm and the Blood of Peace

I was in prayer the other night for our country, and my heart was drawn to the painful present overview of the response to the pandemic. As I prayed, I watched the land be split in two and the space grow between the 2 pieces of ground until a vast, bottomless chasm was left. In prayer, I saw on one side of the expanse the “haves”…the rich, the powerful, adults. And on the other, the “have nots”…the poor, the weak, children. As I watched the divide grow between the people, I looked at what was tearing them apart and separating them in such a grotesque way. Huge principalities of “fear,” “greed,” “pride” and “hatred” propelled the sides outward, and a call echoed throughout the divide, “Every man for himself!”

And as I looked upon the devastation of the “have nots” with even less, and the “haves” who had gathered more, I sat and wept before the Lord.

Eventually, I quietly, humbly asked Him, “What can heal such a divide?”

And He said, “The blood is the bridge.”
And He brought to mind this verse:

Colossians 1:19-20 (21-23)
“For in [Christ] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of His cross.”

There are ones who can bridge the divide…who can walk across the chasm as if on solid ground. They are the ones redeemed by the blood of Jesus.

Why the redeemed?
Two reasons:
1) They are at peace with the LORD.

I told Nathan the other day that the least appreciated piece of the armor of God we have received in Ephesians 6 are the shoes of readiness. They way I understand these shoes is different than I’ve ever heard anyone explain them, so I will try to articulate how I see them. Ephesians 6:15 says, “and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace.” The readiness given by the gospel of peace: What is this peace the gospel has given us? It has justified us before our righteous Judge; it has given us peace with the Father, through the work of Jesus so we can enter into the very presence of God, just as Adam and Eve did before the fall in the Garden of Eden. Because of the blood of Jesus, we are at peace with our Maker. Do you know how powerful a position that is? I hope you do. It’s like the apostle Paul is wrestling with in Philippians 1 where he’s setting life and death before him and stating simply, hey, both have their benefits for me, where God takes me doesn’t matter because for me, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” When we are at peace the the Lord, the demands of life, the opinions of people, and the dividing factors of fear, greed, pride and hatred lose their power over us. By the grace of God, we redeemed sinners carry with us the call to die to self and live out the love of Jesus in the world around us…come what may. Romans 16:20 says, “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” OUR feet.

Which leads us nicely into the second reason:

2) The redeemed carry with them the power of the blood to make whole.

Remember in Luke 4 when Jesus stood in the synagogue and read from the scroll of Isaiah (chapter 61), He read verses 1-2a and stopped abruptly with the declaration that Him standing there that very moment was a fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy.

It’s one of everyone’s favorite verses to quote, but they stop too soon. So Isaiah 61:1-4 says:
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
    because the Lord has anointed Me
to bring good news to the poor;
    He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, 

This is where Jesus stopped…declaring this portion was fulfilled in Him.

    and the day of vengeance of our God;
    to comfort all who mourn;
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

If you have been redeemed and raised up by the finished work of Jesus—brought from death to life—He has planted you as an oak of righteousness for His glory….and He has done it with PURPOSE!

We find that purpose in verse 4:

They shall build up the ancient ruins;
    they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
    the devastations of many generations.

At this moment, we stand in verse 4. Right now, through the Church AT THIS TIME, this verse is to be fulfilled.

We are to BUILD and RAISE UP and REPAIR. Looking out over this chasm, it is not the result of just the Pandemic…it is the result of ancient ruins and generations of devastation. We look upon the culmination of years of ruin and devastation; wickedness has taken it’s filthy hands and ripped apart the fabric of society and civility and dignity, it has celebrated the violence and violation of humanity because we are marked by the image of God, whom it detests.

The redeemed must rebuild upon the divide, because we carry the healing properties of the blood of Christ upon the white robes that cover our sin scarred bodies. Every place our feet tread should leave the mark of hope…the promise of possibility because we are the ones who KNOW the power of the blood…we’ve received the good news, our broken hearts have been bound up, we’ve been freed from the captivity of our side and released from our prison chains, we’ve been comforted, we’ve seen the Lord bring beauty from ashes, and praise from our fainting spirits…and we’ve known the utter glory and wonder of being made righteous by God Himself poured out for us.

And so, He says, Build up…raise up…repair. Because contrary to the call echoing across this charm of “every man for himself,” we do not seek self, we seek the eternal good of those around us, no matter which side of the divide they stand upon. We don’t have to bow to fear because He is with us; we don’t have to be consumed by greed when the One who provides for us has called us to pour ourselves out; we can humbly bear up under the disapproval of others because we’re at peace with the One who sees us clearly; we don’t have permission to hate because we are called to love with the greater love of Jesus that we have mercifully received.

The blood is the bridge. And if you are covered in the blood, you carry the materials for the bridge. So RISE UP, Church! Rise up and stand in the power of the God of Peace who will crush Satan under your feet.

You know

knowing
©6-1-2020 hannah mclean

You know
the details of all light shines upon
and the actuality hidden in darkness

You know
the heights of glory’s reach
and the depths of evil’s roots

You know
the multitude of chaos’ tangled web
and the paths of its unweaving

You know
the balance of justice’s scales
and the measures of its opposition

You know
the words and silences the ring out 
and the hearts that offer them up

and when my mind 
my heart
my understanding
cannot fathom the situations
i behold
i have but one place to rest

i know 
You

Insecurity and Impending Freedom

I’ve been feeling really insecure lately. This is unusual for me; I have found that if I know where and how I stand before the Lord, the things around me that could have the capacity to make me feel insecure lose their power to press me down. So I have been eager to identify the source of my faltering and to reposition myself on the Rock that doesn’t waver when I do.

I started reading a book the other day about freedom in Christ, and felt the urge to stop and share with you my insecurity. It’s something I have struggled with off and on for years, and perhaps now--if I will let Him--God wants to uproot the lies that feed it once and for all.

I am a very intense person; I feel things deeply, I process things deeply, I articulate things deeply (and oddly...sometimes everything comes out in the form of poetry because, let's be honest, I’m sort of weird), and I have no qualms about sharing openly all the things I am walking through AS I am walking through them whether they are good, bad or terribly ugly. For better or for worse, that is how I am built. Correction: All but the last one fall into the category of "how I’m built," the last one showed up after I started following Jesus.

My biggest insecurity is that I overwhelm people...like an unwelcome hurricane crashing into a coffee drinker while they are relaxing on their peaceful patio, or a massive gust of wind rushing on an unsuspecting picnicker just wanting to take in some fresh air. As I just wrote them, I notice that these analogies both produce the same result: Their nature and presence push away the things they meet.

So when I go through seasons of being bombarded by this insecurity, I find that I shut up, and I shrink down, and I withhold my thoughts and myself because of my assumptions of how I will be received.

I think somewhere at the core of my fear is the familiar pain of being alone. I grew up alone; the environment I was raised in was super exclusive, I was very cut off from people and developed an identity of being a misfit in the world around me. No place to belong, no people to belong with. When I discovered fellowship in the Body of Christ, I delighted in it like no one else I have ever met...I grabbed ahold of it SO hard that the lies that could have kept me from it didn’t stand a chance at holding me back. And when I learned how to build friendships in my mid 20s, I relished the privilege of walking through life with others; shoulder-to-shoulder, learning from each other, helping each other, weathering life in the intimacy of the highs and lows we encountered. I love people; I love getting to know who they are and how they are built and what makes them tick. I love watching them change and grow and remain. I love discovering their unique quirks and getting to understand them. I love learning from them and getting to glean from their presence and purpose in the world. I love connecting to and with people from any age or walk or place.

All that to say, I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to return to the loneliness of my past. I don’t want to miss out on the people around me (because let’s be honest, people are the most important thing in this world). And so, when my insecurity rears its ugly head, it holds a lot of power over me because it calls out to me that the cost of my voice and my presence and my nature is too much...it will simply push away the opportunity for relationship or fellowship. And I find myself back in the familiar (yet painfully uncomfortable place) of being an observer of life, not a participant.

So there it is. I haven’t processed and prayed my way out of this and into freedom yet, but step one is to bring it into the light, right? I hope I will get to share with you the end of this journey, not just the beginning. :)

Perfect Love Casts Out Fear: Part 3

I have found that pregnancy after a miscarriage has some unexpected twists; for example, my heart cringes every time this child is referred to as Baby #4. It took me a month longer to realize that I was pregnant with this child than with the others; it never dawned on me because I’ve been praying for another baby for two years and my body had failed in many ways that made it impossible. When I found out I was pregnant, I freaked out. Not because I wasn’t overjoyed (I was and AM), but because after I lost my last baby, I distinctly declared this statement as true about myself, “A baby put in this body will die.” My pregnancy with Evelyn scared me; it was a day-to-day assessment to determine if it was more dangerous for me to remain pregnant or to deliver a premature child into the world. And when she was finally born, the tiniest thing I’d ever held, I wept with relief that she was ok in spite of the fact that my blood pressure was slowly killing the placenta that was suppose to be sustaining and nurturing her.

I don’t think it was unreasonable to freak out. I have been waiting for 2 years for the Lord to heal my body, and I had assumed He would heal it before He put a baby in it. But He didn’t...so the same body that put Evelyn’s life in the balance and was unable to carry Theo, that body now houses a new child.

So I went and stood before the Lord and I told Him all my fears. I praised Him because I was excited, and I wondered at His curious ways, and I told Him I was confused and afraid and I didn’t know what to do about my medication or my emotions. And He listened.

He didn’t tell me what to do, or why He did things the way He did, or when He was going to heal my body...nor did He rebuke my fear. Instead He told me two things: He told me WHO He is and He gave me a hope to hang onto. He said something along these lines (this I will paraphrase), “I am the Creator and Sustainer of Life. This child’s wellbeing does not depend on your body’s performance, it depends entirely on Me.” And He also said (and this is not a paraphrase), “This child is for your joy, not your sorrow.”

And that has proven to be enough.

All the fears I walked into this pregnancy with flee before this truth--God is the creator and sustainer of life--and this promise--this child is for my joy, not my sorrow. The fear that my body could not sustain this baby fled at His words to me; the fear that my body had failed again when I started bleeding at 9 weeks--and again at 17 weeks--fled when I reminded myself of this truth and promise; the fear of heartbreaking disappointment fled with this permission to be excited; the fear that should have swelled up in me when my doctor listed off all the dangerous things she was anticipating could happen during this pregnancy could not take root in my mind; the fears that should understandably roll through my mind cannot gain momentum...and the whole things leaves me marveling at the work God has done in me over this season I am leaving. He has opened up new depth and understanding of His perfect love for me, and the result is shown in the fruit my life now bears: I have been fearless in this pregnancy. And any of you who know me well know this is no small miraculous work of God.

-------
1 John 4:10,16,18,19
In this is love, not that we have loved God but that He loved us and sent His son to be the propitiation for our sins...So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him...There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear...We love because He first loved us.

a grateful heart song

“But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” 2 Corinthians 3:16–18

forever free
©4-1-16 hannah mclean

You have torn the veil that i may
see You face-to-face
You have torn the veil that i may
touch the throne of grace
encompassed by Your Spirit
i am made forever free
oh my Jesus
what a wondrous work
Your blood has done for me

You have torn the veil that i may
know that You are mine
You have torn the veil that i may
know the One divine
my righteousness, but filthy rags
but Yours has made me free
oh my Jesus
what a wondrous work
Your blood has done for me

the veil no more before my eyes
Your glory let me see
transformed by Your mere presence
Lord, Your love has set me free

You have torn the veil, Lord
You have torn the veil
torn from top to bottom, Lord
You have torn the veil
where, o death, where is you sting?
o grave, your victory?
my Lord has made a way for me
and i’m forever free
oh my Jesus
what a wondrous work
oh my Jesus
what a wondrous work
oh my Jesus
what a wondrous work
Your blood has done for me

“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:54b–56 

“Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. I am speaking in human terms, because of your natural limitations. For just as you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness leading to more lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness leading to sanctification.For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death. But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 6:16–23

The Deep Work of 2015: Part 3

I trust the Lord. I trust Him a thousand times more than I trust myself or any other human being. I trust Him with my life, with my heart, with my soul. He is utterly trustworthy. I don’t know if you know how comforting it is to have something to place your trust in that NEVER fails you; never falters, never messes up, never does wrong...NEVER. The Lord does not crumble beneath my full trust, and there is nothing else in all the world that can achieve that. 

If He tells me to do something, I do it. It doesn’t matter if I know what I’m doing, I know Him...and He DOES know. I would be perfectly content to live my entire life directed daily by the Lord. It’s safe to follow His direct guidance.

But I don’t get to live there...and that’s not a bad thing. 

After the seasons of self-confrontation and complete surrender comes seasons of newfound freedom and flourishing. I said (in part 1 of this string) that I am face-to-face with freedom that I have never known, I wanted to expand on that a little bit.

I have found that there are stages to growing in faith. After I surrender my life to him in various matters, there follows a process of what scripture would probably refer to as “crucifying the flesh.” During this stage of growing, I am directed entirely by the Lord. And then comes the next stage that always takes me awhile to realize I have entered: the Lord is silent and I have to trust that the work He did in me is real, and I have to exercise my newfound faith to move forward in my life.

This verse best describes what I mean: 

Psalm 83:11 “He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights.”

The feet of a deer are secure, allowing them to scale the sides of mountains and cliffs, effortlessly and fearlessly moving between valleys and heights. 

When I hit this stage, it’s like God whispers to me, “It’s your turn. I did a good work in you, you are not the same as you were when we started this journey. I have made your feet like the deer’s...Walk. Leap. Run. It’s your turn to make the decisions. Trust My work. I am with you.”

And at this moment, I am looking down at my new feet. I am marveling at my peace. I am delighting in my security in the Father...and I am trusting Him enough to stand and walk in the newfound freedom He has given me.

Yesterday I made a decision about my medication: I felt no fear or need for control. I felt only peace and complete trust in the Father who loves me into such beautiful freedom. And I think I can honestly say that in 15 years, I have never made a decision regarding my health from this position. 

His work is deep. His work is lasting. His work is worthy of praise. Praise Him with me, will you?

The Deep Work of 2015: Part 2

I’ve told you before that I am fearful by nature. And because I am also an intensely emotional creature, that can be an overwhelming and overpowering thing. Over the years, I have (apart from Jesus) found self-preserving ways to work with this part of me; as my fear level goes up, my need for control follows. (This does not lead to freedom from my fear, it simply binds me to it.) 

As a result, when I (united with Jesus) surrender something to the Lord, it has to be accompanied by a laying down of all my weapons, a forfeiting of all my rights to make decisions, and permission to break down my self-made protective walls. When I surrender to the Lord, I give Him control and I am utterly exposed--confronted with every fear and every weakness; I steady my eyes on Him (and yes, freak out at Him) until it loses its power over me in the presence of the One whose perfect love casts out fear. The casting part, that part is really hard; I have to see the fear and feel the fear and let the fear hit me with all its force so that the Lord can prove to me that He is greater than it is. I have spent hours in prayer that have consisted almost entirely of weeping.

This process from bondage to freedom can take years. But the beauty is, that if we stick out the surrender for as long as it takes, the freedom that follows is permanent because God is thorough and He uproots/heals/conquers the source. Transforming and renewing in entirety, He makes us new.

That being said, fear surrounding my health has lost its power over me. Hope for wellness does not depend on doctors or medicine or answers or fixes or MYSELF...my hope is the Lord. And yes, the Lord uses doctors and medicine and fixes and even myself sometimes, but the success or failure of any of these things doesn’t get to dictate my life or my health or my ability to heal; God does.

And do you want to know something beautiful? When fear creeps its ugly head into my thoughts these days, I don’t even WANT control...I only want Jesus.

The Deep Work of 2015: Part 1

It was a deep work, friends.

The work He has done in me over the last year, it is so deep that the weightiness of it just hit me the other evening like a ton of bricks.

I feel like a new believer. Seriously, the only other time I have felt like I do at this moment is a year or 2 after I gave my life to Jesus, having experienced the heart and life renovation that followed, I found myself standing face-to-face with freedom I had never known. The depth of that identity shifting work matches what I feel right now. 

It’s a deep work; the purifying and establishing of identity in the face of deep and lengthy patterns of belief and circumstance. Identity travels through the heart and soul and mind of a person; it defines them, it is foundational, it is the determining factor of mindset and belief, it flows through every cell of the body and permeates every single thought and step. 

Do you know who you are?

Because I am still discovering who I am in Christ; the Lord is faithfully purifying my understanding of my identity. And it’s a deep work.

2015 was a hard year. I describe it as excruciatingly painful and overwhelmingly glorious. While that may seem like an odd combination, I think it is to be expected when traveling into the depth of the pit hand-in-hand with Jesus. Psalms speaks of deep crying out to deep, and I have found in my life that in the deepest places when I have cried out to the Lord, He has shown me greater things than I have ever seen or known in the heights. 

So I went there with Him. We traveled into some of the deepest pain I have experienced; unraveling web after web of lies. We disassembled thick walls I had built up around some of the most vulnerable places inside of me to protect myself; heavy stone after heavy stone until my back ached and my hands bled. We shook off the shackles of fear; chain after chain grating across my heart and mind until they were so raw I wondered if I would make it out in one piece. And we did it all as my physical body crumbled around me, fighting my every move.

But then, I felt the pleasure of watching the webs burn and the stones pulverize and the chains disintegrate. And I find myself once again standing face-to-face with freedom I have never known.

It was a deep work, friends.

But it was worth it, because as I write this, I know who I am:

I am no longer “sick,”

I am “loved.”

A prisoner of hope

“Return to your stronghold, o prisoners of hope; today I declare that I will restore to you double.” Zechariah 9:12

I don’t even know how to begin writing my thoughts on this passage; I am at a place where these words hold such weight and promise that I just have to sit for a moment when I am finished reading them to gather myself before I can proceed.

When reading this verse in the past, I was struck by the phrase “prisoner of hope” and considered it with curiosity. At one point it even inspired a poem, but the phrase never resolved in my heart and I moved past it with a sense of wonder that a generally negative word like “prisoner” could be used in relation to such a lovely word as “hope.”

But during a time of prayer the other day, this phrase set upon my heart with affirmation on the depth of identity. I am a prisoner of hope.

I am a prisoner of hope: I am bound to it, I cannot shake it, I cannot move beyond it, I cannot ignore it...I find myself with conviction of promise in the face of real impossibilities. And as I have looked back over my life since I began walking with Jesus, I see my beautiful "chains" again and again. Let me explain.

Over the last 12 years of my life, I have learned Who God is. I have discovered through His word and prayer and people what are His character, His nature and His promises. I have learned to recognize His voice and to trust the Spirit. I have found Him to be proven and sure and the ONE thing that is certain.

I have also become convinced of His worth, His goodness, His power, His beauty, His faithfulness...and I have found that no matter what life has thrown at me, He has held me and drawn me both to Himself and through the fires where I have emerged victorious and fortified on the other side. And even the battles that currently rage around me have found themselves unable to separate me from this true and magnificent God.

If the Lord has said it, it will be/it is true/it will stand. I am certain of this; not because I can tell you how He will do what He says He will do, but because I know who He is and that He is able to accomplish what He has said He will accomplish.

So here I am, 10 days till the new year begins; my health is worse than it has ever been in my entire life, the state of my body more devastated than it has ever been, the solution to how it can even be repaired from the pit it slumps in is beyond my understanding. But I find myself encouraged, excited and eager. My journal no longer is counting up (Day ___ of praying/waiting/praising for healing), it is now counting down (____ days till healing). And sometimes I feel crazy, because looking into my situation, WHY should anyone in their right mind think healing would come? When there aren’t even answers to the problems that lie inside me, WHY would I think that my health could be resolved?

But Zechariah explains it, I am a prisoner of hope. I cannot shake the promise of the Lord to me. I can’t stop believing that what He said will be...and instead of looking at the 10 days before me and the 15 years of damage done to my physical body and curling up in a hole of despair, I for some reason am feeling uplifted and excited that this is almost over. Why?! Because I know who God is and what He said and what He is able to do...and no matter how much I or life or well-meaning people try to adjust my expectations, here I am.

Because “faith is the ASSURANCE of things HOPED for, the CONVICTION of things NOT seen” (Hebrews 11:1). And I am assured and convicted...a prisoner of hope in the faithfulness, promise and love of the One True Living God.

My season is changing, come January 1, 2016, I will either be healed or healing. And in that, this prisoner of hope rejoices at the utter kindness of her loving Father.