day 286
©9-12-15 hannah mclean
questions repeating
beating
and beating
upon this strained mind
desiring to find
the answers to alleviate
and obliterate
the pain of not knowing.
what is happening to me?
i wonder as i blunder
from one day to the next
hiding
from the internal chiding
degrading me
as degradation plagues externally
determined to win
at convincing me
my brokenness is as much within
as without.
and daily i must
entrust myself
to the Truth
and to the Father
to which He leads.
o Jesus,
Healer of the broken
You have spoken
words over me
with authority
and i await
from this helpless state
unable to turn away
i lay
before You
forevermore.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Monday, September 7, 2015
Ugly moments and the beauty of God
I had a hard day this past week. In the middle of it, I stood in the shower and yelled at God.
I yelled at Him; I doubted at Him, I threw teenage-quality accusations at Him; I wept like a baby and the water washed my tears down the drain and muffled out the sounds of my sobs.
I’m not proud of it, my feelings were not in the right place (because God owes me nothing and has never wronged me, He has never done wrong in any capacity).
But I am not ashamed of it either; most importantly because I am in Jesus and my sins are covered, but also because my HEART was in the right place--raw and honest and in the presence of the One it longed for.
Because here is the thing, if we want to be with Jesus, and all we have to bring with us at the moment is anger or pain or frustration, He wants us to come anyway. He doesn’t say, “No, go get yourself together and then you can draw near.” Instead, He says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary...” And if all we have to offer Him is the ugliness of a broken soul, then He will draw near and receive it as an offering of worship. Not because He deserves it--no, He deserves alabaster boxes of sweet perfume, houses of extravagant beauty built to Him, gold, frankincense and myrrh, animals without blemish and songs of thanksgiving (to name a biblical few)--but because He is a God of grace who, in spite of His infinite worth, remembers we are "but dust" and rejoices over the widow’s pennies as they fall into the offering plate, receives food at the table of the outcasts of society and immortalizes the worship of Job.
As I stepped out of the shower that day, my heart landed upon Job and I opened up his book and began to read. And Job 1:20 reverberated through my body like a glorious, hopeful sigh.
“Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped.”
Job--a man the Lord Himself called “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil”--had just suffered a string of immense losses and felt within himself blow after blow upon his heart; he lost all that he had and almost everyone that he loved. His expression of sorrow was intense and aggressive; he tore his clothes, he shaved his head. He did not hide his feelings, he expressed them fully and fiercely.
And then it says Job “fell on the ground;” the weight of what he felt took all strength from him and he couldn’t stand beneath it. Perhaps he didn’t even try to because sometimes the burdens are just far too great to place upon our backs, the heaviness of the sorrow far too immense; so under the trials of life, he simply fell on the ground.
Job’s ground was solid; he fell onto the expanse of the One in Whom he trusted. And from this place, weak and weary and wounded, unable to stand, torn open...Job worshipped God. He offered his sorrow and he acknowledge his Lord. And to God, this was worship.
There was no exuberant joy required, no withholding of receiving until the heart was indeed thankful and accepting of the losses, no setting at arms length till the confusion was resolved...No. The Lord received his weakness and his sorrow and his acknowledgement as an offering of worship. We know this because He repeated His accolades of His servant Job in 2:3, calling him again “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil.”
And that is reason 14 gazillion why God is so incredibly glorious. Because I can yell at Him in the shower when anger, confusion and despair are all I have to bring Him at a moment when I just want to be near. I can acknowledge His holiness, love and kindness in the next breath as I speak His truth over my weary soul. And I can leave our interaction feeling as though He took my words and my tears and my weakness as worship.
These are the moments when I understand why the KJV bible often translates “steadfast love” as “mercy.”
I yelled at Him; I doubted at Him, I threw teenage-quality accusations at Him; I wept like a baby and the water washed my tears down the drain and muffled out the sounds of my sobs.
I’m not proud of it, my feelings were not in the right place (because God owes me nothing and has never wronged me, He has never done wrong in any capacity).
But I am not ashamed of it either; most importantly because I am in Jesus and my sins are covered, but also because my HEART was in the right place--raw and honest and in the presence of the One it longed for.
Because here is the thing, if we want to be with Jesus, and all we have to bring with us at the moment is anger or pain or frustration, He wants us to come anyway. He doesn’t say, “No, go get yourself together and then you can draw near.” Instead, He says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary...” And if all we have to offer Him is the ugliness of a broken soul, then He will draw near and receive it as an offering of worship. Not because He deserves it--no, He deserves alabaster boxes of sweet perfume, houses of extravagant beauty built to Him, gold, frankincense and myrrh, animals without blemish and songs of thanksgiving (to name a biblical few)--but because He is a God of grace who, in spite of His infinite worth, remembers we are "but dust" and rejoices over the widow’s pennies as they fall into the offering plate, receives food at the table of the outcasts of society and immortalizes the worship of Job.
As I stepped out of the shower that day, my heart landed upon Job and I opened up his book and began to read. And Job 1:20 reverberated through my body like a glorious, hopeful sigh.
“Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped.”
Job--a man the Lord Himself called “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil”--had just suffered a string of immense losses and felt within himself blow after blow upon his heart; he lost all that he had and almost everyone that he loved. His expression of sorrow was intense and aggressive; he tore his clothes, he shaved his head. He did not hide his feelings, he expressed them fully and fiercely.
And then it says Job “fell on the ground;” the weight of what he felt took all strength from him and he couldn’t stand beneath it. Perhaps he didn’t even try to because sometimes the burdens are just far too great to place upon our backs, the heaviness of the sorrow far too immense; so under the trials of life, he simply fell on the ground.
Job’s ground was solid; he fell onto the expanse of the One in Whom he trusted. And from this place, weak and weary and wounded, unable to stand, torn open...Job worshipped God. He offered his sorrow and he acknowledge his Lord. And to God, this was worship.
There was no exuberant joy required, no withholding of receiving until the heart was indeed thankful and accepting of the losses, no setting at arms length till the confusion was resolved...No. The Lord received his weakness and his sorrow and his acknowledgement as an offering of worship. We know this because He repeated His accolades of His servant Job in 2:3, calling him again “a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil.”
And that is reason 14 gazillion why God is so incredibly glorious. Because I can yell at Him in the shower when anger, confusion and despair are all I have to bring Him at a moment when I just want to be near. I can acknowledge His holiness, love and kindness in the next breath as I speak His truth over my weary soul. And I can leave our interaction feeling as though He took my words and my tears and my weakness as worship.
These are the moments when I understand why the KJV bible often translates “steadfast love” as “mercy.”
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
"O my Lord, I am not eloquent" and other faulty reasons for silence.
Has the enemy ever
told you something along these lines: “You can’t tell people what God is
doing in your life because you aren’t very good at articulating your
thoughts. Keep it to yourself. Let the eloquent speakers share; what
they have to say is of more value because it sounds prettier coming out
of their mouth. That person has letters behind their name, you should
just listen. If you want to speak, get some credentials. Until then, you
should ignore any inclination you have to speak about your walk with
Jesus...I mean, who do you think you are? Are you so proud? Do you
really think you’re so 'special' that you have something to ADD to the life
of the Church?! God wants you to be humble, that means you be quiet and
listen. A teachable person listens and doesn’t speak, you want to be
teachable and humble, right? Besides, that thing you were considering
sharing, in the whole scheme of things, it’s nothing; why would anyone
want to spend time hearing about your little struggles or your little
victories or you little life? Head down, mouth shut...that’s want
‘living a quiet and peaceable life’ means.”
If he has, I just want to remind you of one little thing: The enemy is a big, fat liar. Yes, a liar. And not just a slimy, twisting liar, but a being in passionate pursuit of destroying the people of God, stealing the glory of God and hindering the power of God from playing out in the broken world.
I think it is important to get a conversation going, this requires words. For me, because God made me introspective, I am completely uncomfortable when I don't understand how I am doing or where I am at. I confront my emotions and deal with the circumstances of my life because I am unable to stuff things (for better or for worse). Because of my reflective nature, I embrace the invitation to stand before the Father in Christ with boldness and without shame--just as I am--with great joy. I process through my emotions and pains and confusions and questions in the presence of the Lord and the Truth of His word. I know who I am before the Creator God who defines me. That means, if I can boldly stand without shame before God, I can express the things I am struggling with and learning about with boldness and without shame before people. And I have found that the more I see and understand about what God is doing in me and around me, the less I can hold it in. But the more I share it, the more I hear the reasons why many around me AREN’T sharing. They are silently living their lives with Jesus because they "aren’t very eloquent of speech," the things they’re learning "are just too insignificant," they "aren’t qualified" to have a voice in people’s lives, etc. etc. (I can understand believing all of these things, I’ve been silent because of them far too many times myself.) So I find that while many people will listen to my life and my revelations and my struggles and my victories, they hold back from sharing with me their own.
But what is unfortunate about this one-sided conversation (other than the fact that I desperately want to hear from them), is that I firmly believe that the act of articulating your thoughts and the work God is doing in you is a wonderful way of observing them fully and allowing them to solidify in your heart and mind. I honestly think it’s a vital step in completing the process of the work God does in each of us: Put it in words--eloquent or ineloquent is not the point--and share it.
I would encourage each of you to line up your excuses (such as the ones listed above) and shoot them down with Truth. Here is an example:
LIE: I’m not good at articulating myself.
TRUTH: In the book of Exodus, God told Moses He was going to use him to free His people from slavery, the largest exodus of all time. Upon hearing this, barefoot in the presence of a holy God, Moses presented Him with lots of reasons why he wasn’t the right man for the job; after all, he wasn’t just ineloquent, he was slow of speech and tongue. Was God’s hand shortened because of Moses’ deficits? Absolutely not. God took what Moses DID have (ie a simple staff and an ineloquent, slow tongue) and freed 600,000 male slaves (if you add the women and children, the number could have been around ~2,400,000).
Because here is the truth: The work of God in our lives belongs to Him. His work in us points to Him, magnifies Him, glorifies Him, and reflects Him. It is not self-exalting to share it because ultimately, it isn’t about us; it’s about Jesus. And the power of our testimony doesn’t lie in the eloquence of our words, it lies in Jesus. So we can offer up the words we do have--jumbled or stumbled or stuttered doesn’t matter--they are filled with potential because they are backed by pure, edifying power of our magnificent God.
All this was really just a very long way of exhorting you to fight your excuses! Put the enemy in his place, why should he get to dictate what comes out of our mouths and what stays in? Let's let the Lord direct our tongues. Can you imagine how much potential there is for growth and for an offering of praise and glory to the Lord if we would boldly testify to one another and invite each other into the inter workings of our daily walk with Him?! Jesus said, “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” If the work of God in your heart DOESN’T overflow out of your mouth, then I would encourage you to ponder it until it does.
And then tell me about it. :)
If he has, I just want to remind you of one little thing: The enemy is a big, fat liar. Yes, a liar. And not just a slimy, twisting liar, but a being in passionate pursuit of destroying the people of God, stealing the glory of God and hindering the power of God from playing out in the broken world.
I think it is important to get a conversation going, this requires words. For me, because God made me introspective, I am completely uncomfortable when I don't understand how I am doing or where I am at. I confront my emotions and deal with the circumstances of my life because I am unable to stuff things (for better or for worse). Because of my reflective nature, I embrace the invitation to stand before the Father in Christ with boldness and without shame--just as I am--with great joy. I process through my emotions and pains and confusions and questions in the presence of the Lord and the Truth of His word. I know who I am before the Creator God who defines me. That means, if I can boldly stand without shame before God, I can express the things I am struggling with and learning about with boldness and without shame before people. And I have found that the more I see and understand about what God is doing in me and around me, the less I can hold it in. But the more I share it, the more I hear the reasons why many around me AREN’T sharing. They are silently living their lives with Jesus because they "aren’t very eloquent of speech," the things they’re learning "are just too insignificant," they "aren’t qualified" to have a voice in people’s lives, etc. etc. (I can understand believing all of these things, I’ve been silent because of them far too many times myself.) So I find that while many people will listen to my life and my revelations and my struggles and my victories, they hold back from sharing with me their own.
But what is unfortunate about this one-sided conversation (other than the fact that I desperately want to hear from them), is that I firmly believe that the act of articulating your thoughts and the work God is doing in you is a wonderful way of observing them fully and allowing them to solidify in your heart and mind. I honestly think it’s a vital step in completing the process of the work God does in each of us: Put it in words--eloquent or ineloquent is not the point--and share it.
I would encourage each of you to line up your excuses (such as the ones listed above) and shoot them down with Truth. Here is an example:
LIE: I’m not good at articulating myself.
TRUTH: In the book of Exodus, God told Moses He was going to use him to free His people from slavery, the largest exodus of all time. Upon hearing this, barefoot in the presence of a holy God, Moses presented Him with lots of reasons why he wasn’t the right man for the job; after all, he wasn’t just ineloquent, he was slow of speech and tongue. Was God’s hand shortened because of Moses’ deficits? Absolutely not. God took what Moses DID have (ie a simple staff and an ineloquent, slow tongue) and freed 600,000 male slaves (if you add the women and children, the number could have been around ~2,400,000).
Because here is the truth: The work of God in our lives belongs to Him. His work in us points to Him, magnifies Him, glorifies Him, and reflects Him. It is not self-exalting to share it because ultimately, it isn’t about us; it’s about Jesus. And the power of our testimony doesn’t lie in the eloquence of our words, it lies in Jesus. So we can offer up the words we do have--jumbled or stumbled or stuttered doesn’t matter--they are filled with potential because they are backed by pure, edifying power of our magnificent God.
All this was really just a very long way of exhorting you to fight your excuses! Put the enemy in his place, why should he get to dictate what comes out of our mouths and what stays in? Let's let the Lord direct our tongues. Can you imagine how much potential there is for growth and for an offering of praise and glory to the Lord if we would boldly testify to one another and invite each other into the inter workings of our daily walk with Him?! Jesus said, “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” If the work of God in your heart DOESN’T overflow out of your mouth, then I would encourage you to ponder it until it does.
And then tell me about it. :)
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Passionate ranting and sobering questions
We ran into a wonderful, godly man the other day. We had a moment to catch up, and he and my husband shared with each other some of the devastated lives they encountered in their work and ministry. As we unwound these broken situations, we looked behind the actions and considered where the cracks in their lives started; the young addict whose mother had shown him how to shoot up heroin, the 27-year-old man who was shown pornography as a 6-year-old boy on the playground at school, the suicidal young woman whose father walked out many years before...
As we spoke, questions arose. Questions like:
“Is there even hope to restore a life so broken?”
“Can someone emotionally and mentally come back from a place like that when they’ve never been equipped with the tools to cope?”
“Even if they’re freed from their addiction, could they live a normal life?”
To which I, perhaps annoyingly (at first), answered, “But we get to bring Jesus!”
We get to bring Jesus! The hope for a life broken beyond human repair; the hope for someone ill-equipped during their developmental years to live a purposeful life; the hope for redeeming the lost innocence of a child...that hope it Jesus. After my 3rd or 4th, “But Jesus,” we started to talk about Jesus. We talked about the power of Jesus to free; and not just to free, but to restore; and not just to restore, but to build up to bring freedom and restoration to others. Because Jesus’ healing power is thorough and amazingly beautiful to behold. We talked about how we don’t have to know the answer to details of the brokenness, we just need to love with the persevering, steadfast, redeeming love of Jesus poured out; how that love redeems the lives of the ones it lands on. We talked about how watching this process is “the greater thing” that Jesus told us we will see (He raised the dead, there’s no way you can get a bigger physical miracle than that), He was talking about us bringing His healing, redemptive, life-transforming love on the cross to a broken world and watching its power land upon needy souls bringing pure beauty from the ashes of the aftermath of sin.
Because THAT is what we bring when we answer the brokenness of the world with a relationship with Jesus. Scripture says we are “Ambassadors of Hope.” That fact should make our hearts leap; it should cause our feet to run into the darkness because the Light we carry has the power not just to dispel it...but to heal all that has been broken there.
Jesus is beautiful and He is enough!
And at the end of our conversation, the man was brimming with encouragement and he asked me,
“Have you told anyone this?”
And I can’t shake this question...”Have you told anyone this?”
I can’t shake it because he wasn’t asking me if I had told the lost, the bound, the weary in the broken world, he was asking me if I had told the Church.
I can’t shake this question. I can’t shake it, not because I don’t tell anyone who will listen to my passionate rants, but because my answer is simple. It is simple, yet so sobering I tear up every time it comes to mind:
“I thought they knew.”
As we spoke, questions arose. Questions like:
“Is there even hope to restore a life so broken?”
“Can someone emotionally and mentally come back from a place like that when they’ve never been equipped with the tools to cope?”
“Even if they’re freed from their addiction, could they live a normal life?”
To which I, perhaps annoyingly (at first), answered, “But we get to bring Jesus!”
We get to bring Jesus! The hope for a life broken beyond human repair; the hope for someone ill-equipped during their developmental years to live a purposeful life; the hope for redeeming the lost innocence of a child...that hope it Jesus. After my 3rd or 4th, “But Jesus,” we started to talk about Jesus. We talked about the power of Jesus to free; and not just to free, but to restore; and not just to restore, but to build up to bring freedom and restoration to others. Because Jesus’ healing power is thorough and amazingly beautiful to behold. We talked about how we don’t have to know the answer to details of the brokenness, we just need to love with the persevering, steadfast, redeeming love of Jesus poured out; how that love redeems the lives of the ones it lands on. We talked about how watching this process is “the greater thing” that Jesus told us we will see (He raised the dead, there’s no way you can get a bigger physical miracle than that), He was talking about us bringing His healing, redemptive, life-transforming love on the cross to a broken world and watching its power land upon needy souls bringing pure beauty from the ashes of the aftermath of sin.
Because THAT is what we bring when we answer the brokenness of the world with a relationship with Jesus. Scripture says we are “Ambassadors of Hope.” That fact should make our hearts leap; it should cause our feet to run into the darkness because the Light we carry has the power not just to dispel it...but to heal all that has been broken there.
Jesus is beautiful and He is enough!
And at the end of our conversation, the man was brimming with encouragement and he asked me,
“Have you told anyone this?”
And I can’t shake this question...”Have you told anyone this?”
I can’t shake it because he wasn’t asking me if I had told the lost, the bound, the weary in the broken world, he was asking me if I had told the Church.
I can’t shake this question. I can’t shake it, not because I don’t tell anyone who will listen to my passionate rants, but because my answer is simple. It is simple, yet so sobering I tear up every time it comes to mind:
“I thought they knew.”
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Love expanded: Part 2
to rest
©7-22-15 hannah mclean
He spreads out His love beneath me
and i feel upon my weathered skin
the softness of feathers
from the rocky place i lie
without strength
and yet
without condemnation
He asks but one thing of me
that i rest upon Him
He spreads out His love above me
like a canopy
creating a barrier between me
and the falling sky
His feathered wings
gather me in
He asks but one thing of me
that i rest in His shadow
He pours His love into me
like living water
rolling through a parched land
soaking Him in
He does not curse my desert
instead
He revives
He asks but one thing of me
that i rest in His life
©7-22-15 hannah mclean
He spreads out His love beneath me
and i feel upon my weathered skin
the softness of feathers
from the rocky place i lie
without strength
and yet
without condemnation
He asks but one thing of me
that i rest upon Him
He spreads out His love above me
like a canopy
creating a barrier between me
and the falling sky
His feathered wings
gather me in
He asks but one thing of me
that i rest in His shadow
He pours His love into me
like living water
rolling through a parched land
soaking Him in
He does not curse my desert
instead
He revives
He asks but one thing of me
that i rest in His life
Love expanded: Part 1
Before I launch into my thoughts, I want you to know that I am completely aware that in the scheme of human suffering and injustice, my struggles are not even a blip. That being said, they are still real struggles that, on an individual level, create a personal pain that I carry.
I was sharing some of my journey through my health problems with some of my sisters-in-the-Lord last night, and as I talked, God opened up a little window into some of His purposes for my pain.
Many years ago, when I exited the valley that makes the one I am currently in too familiar, I entered it without Jesus and exited it following Him. I looked at the sorrows of my failing health with humility and gratitude because if He hadn’t physically swept my feet from beneath me, I could not see a way I would have bowed my knee to Him. I entered my valley as a stubborn, independent, self-centered girl who spoke too quickly (often in anger), cared only about myself and kept the disappointing world at arm’s length because I “could take care of myself.” I exited the valley a teachable, dependent on God, prayerful woman who was willing to look into the eyes of a hurting world, requiring nothing from it. I am grateful for the revealed weaknesses, the months of literal silence, the pains I persevered through because through them, God spoke to me, revealed Himself to me and drew me into His arms.
But as I consider my health and the last 15 years, I have observed and experienced them through a distorted lens given to me from the pulpit throughout my childhood. The view of God’s love that I left my childhood church with was this: “The Lord disciplines the ones He loves.” While this is true, this is so far from an encompassing view of the love of God that were a person to observe all the pains of life through this narrow scope, they would invariably find themselves with an incredibly skewed understanding of God.
Because here’s the truth...yes, when I got sick, I was not walking with the Lord; I didn’t lean on Him, I didn’t follow Him, I didn’t love Him, I didn’t want much to do with Him. To be fair, I didn’t know HOW to do those things or what it would even look like or why it would be desirable. God used my health to draw me to Himself and I am eternally grateful...literally. But who I was then is not who I am now. I have walked with Jesus for 12 years; I follow Him, love Him, delight in Him, lean on Him, trust Him; He has taken out the heart of stone and given me a heart of flesh; He has an open invitation to shape and sanctify and use me however He wishes; to my knowledge, I withhold nothing from Him and deal with my sin before Him without fear. My heart is freely moldable in His loving hands...I do not require discipline because I am not wayward; I am sitting in His palm, I am clinging to His feet.
And God is uprooting my view of His love; the narrow-minded, painful view of what my suffering means to Him. Because if I believe He is disciplining me when my heart is devoted and submitted to Him, what kind of father is He? To take a life that says, “I want things Your way,” and to treat it as one that is rebellious, that would not be loving or kind or good (all of which God is), it would be cruel and abusive (which God is not). His love fits His nature and His character; infinite, merciful, unchanging, just, patient, good.
Yes, God is uprooting my view of His love, and with it, the distorted, confusing view of what my suffering means to Him. And this time, as I face my valley with its familiar, dreaded pains and symptoms, He is pushing back against the lies the enemy planted (“If I only do this better, God will bless me...if I can just grow in this area, God will give me what I desire...etc."). To every claim of effort and earning, He speaks the truth that His love for me is not contingent on how good or bad I am; that the purpose of my suffering is not discipline because our relationship has already been restored through Jesus; that ease of life does not accurately reflect abundance of love; that real Love seeks the eternal good that sometimes requires the temporal waiting...
So I am learning a lot about the love of the Lord; about His affections, His fervency, His glorious zeal for my good. And though I don’t have words to articulate what it is, I am beginning to recognize it, beginning to feel it, beginning to believe it and beginning to delight in the effects of it landing upon me...just as I am.
I was sharing some of my journey through my health problems with some of my sisters-in-the-Lord last night, and as I talked, God opened up a little window into some of His purposes for my pain.
Many years ago, when I exited the valley that makes the one I am currently in too familiar, I entered it without Jesus and exited it following Him. I looked at the sorrows of my failing health with humility and gratitude because if He hadn’t physically swept my feet from beneath me, I could not see a way I would have bowed my knee to Him. I entered my valley as a stubborn, independent, self-centered girl who spoke too quickly (often in anger), cared only about myself and kept the disappointing world at arm’s length because I “could take care of myself.” I exited the valley a teachable, dependent on God, prayerful woman who was willing to look into the eyes of a hurting world, requiring nothing from it. I am grateful for the revealed weaknesses, the months of literal silence, the pains I persevered through because through them, God spoke to me, revealed Himself to me and drew me into His arms.
But as I consider my health and the last 15 years, I have observed and experienced them through a distorted lens given to me from the pulpit throughout my childhood. The view of God’s love that I left my childhood church with was this: “The Lord disciplines the ones He loves.” While this is true, this is so far from an encompassing view of the love of God that were a person to observe all the pains of life through this narrow scope, they would invariably find themselves with an incredibly skewed understanding of God.
Because here’s the truth...yes, when I got sick, I was not walking with the Lord; I didn’t lean on Him, I didn’t follow Him, I didn’t love Him, I didn’t want much to do with Him. To be fair, I didn’t know HOW to do those things or what it would even look like or why it would be desirable. God used my health to draw me to Himself and I am eternally grateful...literally. But who I was then is not who I am now. I have walked with Jesus for 12 years; I follow Him, love Him, delight in Him, lean on Him, trust Him; He has taken out the heart of stone and given me a heart of flesh; He has an open invitation to shape and sanctify and use me however He wishes; to my knowledge, I withhold nothing from Him and deal with my sin before Him without fear. My heart is freely moldable in His loving hands...I do not require discipline because I am not wayward; I am sitting in His palm, I am clinging to His feet.
And God is uprooting my view of His love; the narrow-minded, painful view of what my suffering means to Him. Because if I believe He is disciplining me when my heart is devoted and submitted to Him, what kind of father is He? To take a life that says, “I want things Your way,” and to treat it as one that is rebellious, that would not be loving or kind or good (all of which God is), it would be cruel and abusive (which God is not). His love fits His nature and His character; infinite, merciful, unchanging, just, patient, good.
Yes, God is uprooting my view of His love, and with it, the distorted, confusing view of what my suffering means to Him. And this time, as I face my valley with its familiar, dreaded pains and symptoms, He is pushing back against the lies the enemy planted (“If I only do this better, God will bless me...if I can just grow in this area, God will give me what I desire...etc."). To every claim of effort and earning, He speaks the truth that His love for me is not contingent on how good or bad I am; that the purpose of my suffering is not discipline because our relationship has already been restored through Jesus; that ease of life does not accurately reflect abundance of love; that real Love seeks the eternal good that sometimes requires the temporal waiting...
So I am learning a lot about the love of the Lord; about His affections, His fervency, His glorious zeal for my good. And though I don’t have words to articulate what it is, I am beginning to recognize it, beginning to feel it, beginning to believe it and beginning to delight in the effects of it landing upon me...just as I am.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
"If I make my bed in the depths, You are there."
Life has been bumpy lately...like I’m sliding down a hill and hitting jagged rocks on the way down. I feel bruised and my eyes can’t see the top of the next mountain, only the darkness of the pit in which I reside. I’ve been here before, I recognized the rocks on the way down. It’s dark and I can’t see my feet; I dread the next step because I don’t know how much farther I have to go before the Lord lifts me up.
So some days are harder than others, and I have been grateful for the hands of Jesus that reach out to grab hold of my grasping hand; assuring me that I am not alone and reminding me that “though I fall, I will not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds my hand.” (Psalm 37:24)
Let’s be honest, my health sucks. I have been sick for 15 years. It’s true, I’ve had a stretch of probably 5 years in there where my body balanced out and I felt pretty good, but it doesn’t take more than the slightest breeze to send it back into chaos. It doesn’t help to tell me I look fine, I am not fine. And no, I can’t explain what is wrong because even the professionals can’t. Aside from my health, I’m not an unhealthy person; I exercise, eat healthy food, take my vitamins, have solid relationships and love Jesus...but my body just laughs at the science of living a healthy lifestyle.
To be honest, I’m in a hard place; I am worn out as I wait on a miracle from the Lord. I believe He is my Jehovah Rapha (the Lord who Heals), and I expect Him to be who He says He is. Most days I find peace in hope, because I’m hoping in a God who is always faithful to His word; some days I sincerely rejoice as though I have already received what He promised. But some days, I simply doubt; gut-wrenching, devastating hopelessness threatens to sweep me off of everything I stand on with the force of a tornado of fear, pain and the sense of abandonment. And those days, those days are the hard days where I have to make choices: Am I going to choose faith? Am I going to hold up the truths I know of God beside the facts of my health and choose to believe what I can’t see? Am I going to shout the name and mercy of Jesus in the face of the enemy’s accusations that His love and His blessing are not for me? Am I going to agree with the Truth or with the lies when it is the lies that make sense when one considers my physical well-being? Those days, those are the days I have to make the hard decisions: faith or fear? Truth or lies? Love or hate? Jesus or self?
I am grateful as I write this. I am grateful because I am proven...I want Jesus’ face more than His hand.
I am grateful as I write this. I am grateful because no matter the ugliness of my doubt and the fruit it bears, God presents me with His word where He declares His affection for me whereever I stand...or sit...or wallow:
Psalm 139:8–10
If i go up to the heavens, You are there;
if i make my bed in the depths, You are there.
If i rise on the wings of the dawn,
if i settle on the far side of the sea,
even there Your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast.
Oh the beautiful Jesus:
He is with me always.
He is with me when I worship Him; when from my earthly post my soul rises up to the heavens and my voice joins the hosts around His throne. He is there.
He is with me when I clamor in the depths of the pit; when I wallow in despair, unable to lift up my voice or my feet, doubting I can hope another day. He is there.
He is with me whether I am early or whether I am late.
He is with me whether I wander far or stand near.
He is there, His hand guides me because He is faithful.
His right hand holds me fast, because He is my anchor.
And my Anchor holds.
My Anchor holds when life is bumpy;
when everything around me is dark and the only light I can find
lies in the hope that the One who is sure is with me,
and when He deems the moment right,
He will lift me out of this desolate pit.
And between this moment and that one, perhaps you will put me into your prayers?
So some days are harder than others, and I have been grateful for the hands of Jesus that reach out to grab hold of my grasping hand; assuring me that I am not alone and reminding me that “though I fall, I will not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds my hand.” (Psalm 37:24)
Let’s be honest, my health sucks. I have been sick for 15 years. It’s true, I’ve had a stretch of probably 5 years in there where my body balanced out and I felt pretty good, but it doesn’t take more than the slightest breeze to send it back into chaos. It doesn’t help to tell me I look fine, I am not fine. And no, I can’t explain what is wrong because even the professionals can’t. Aside from my health, I’m not an unhealthy person; I exercise, eat healthy food, take my vitamins, have solid relationships and love Jesus...but my body just laughs at the science of living a healthy lifestyle.
To be honest, I’m in a hard place; I am worn out as I wait on a miracle from the Lord. I believe He is my Jehovah Rapha (the Lord who Heals), and I expect Him to be who He says He is. Most days I find peace in hope, because I’m hoping in a God who is always faithful to His word; some days I sincerely rejoice as though I have already received what He promised. But some days, I simply doubt; gut-wrenching, devastating hopelessness threatens to sweep me off of everything I stand on with the force of a tornado of fear, pain and the sense of abandonment. And those days, those days are the hard days where I have to make choices: Am I going to choose faith? Am I going to hold up the truths I know of God beside the facts of my health and choose to believe what I can’t see? Am I going to shout the name and mercy of Jesus in the face of the enemy’s accusations that His love and His blessing are not for me? Am I going to agree with the Truth or with the lies when it is the lies that make sense when one considers my physical well-being? Those days, those are the days I have to make the hard decisions: faith or fear? Truth or lies? Love or hate? Jesus or self?
I am grateful as I write this. I am grateful because I am proven...I want Jesus’ face more than His hand.
I am grateful as I write this. I am grateful because no matter the ugliness of my doubt and the fruit it bears, God presents me with His word where He declares His affection for me whereever I stand...or sit...or wallow:
Psalm 139:8–10
If i go up to the heavens, You are there;
if i make my bed in the depths, You are there.
If i rise on the wings of the dawn,
if i settle on the far side of the sea,
even there Your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast.
Oh the beautiful Jesus:
He is with me always.
He is with me when I worship Him; when from my earthly post my soul rises up to the heavens and my voice joins the hosts around His throne. He is there.
He is with me when I clamor in the depths of the pit; when I wallow in despair, unable to lift up my voice or my feet, doubting I can hope another day. He is there.
He is with me whether I am early or whether I am late.
He is with me whether I wander far or stand near.
He is there, His hand guides me because He is faithful.
His right hand holds me fast, because He is my anchor.
And my Anchor holds.
My Anchor holds when life is bumpy;
when everything around me is dark and the only light I can find
lies in the hope that the One who is sure is with me,
and when He deems the moment right,
He will lift me out of this desolate pit.
And between this moment and that one, perhaps you will put me into your prayers?
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