Five Years

I've been thinking about my dad a lot this year. I always think about him, but he's just been on the forefront of my mind more. This September marks the fifth anniversary of his death. Five years is a long time. So much has happened. But, yet, the memory of him seems so much closer.

I have been missing him. Mainly, I've been missing him missing out on our lives. I know he doesn't feel that way. He is in perfect health, free from sin, and in the presence of Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:8). He is at home in every sense of the word. But for us here, we miss his presence, and, from our earthly perspective, he has missed out on so much. Both me and my sister got married the year after he passed away. He wasn't there to walk us down the aisle or dance with us at the reception. I have trouble imagining what that would have been like - what he would have said, if he would have teared up - and it's something my heart will never know. This is something I realized I have never truly grieved over until this year. In the moment of wedding planning and all the changes that go with getting married, the busyness hid the reality. I actually did not even know who was going to walk me down the aisle until the week of my wedding due to things going on amongst my relatives (which was painful for several reasons). As I was looking through our wedding album earlier this year, these things hit me. I wish it could have been different. I wish my dad could have been there. But he wasn't and I have to trust God's Word that He's working in that for my good (Romans 8:28).

And then there's Justus. I think that is what has really been prompting me to think about my dad. I wish he was here to meet him, play with him, know him. My dad loved babies and he would have loved Justus so much - enough to even travel to visit us here in AL (and my dad was not one to travel). Now I can only show Justus pictures and videos of his grandpa and hope that that somehow makes him think fondly of him down the road.

Loss is hard. Its effects are far reaching, rippling into events unforeseen and surprising you with grief when you least expect it. The passage of time helps. It gives perspective and distance, but it doesn't lessen the loss. The grief may not be as raw as it was five years ago, but sometimes the pain can be. But, as a Christian, I can grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Because Christ died and rose from the dead, I know that the same will be true of my dad. Because Jesus lives, he lives too. And one day we will worship Him together.

Photo Credit: Sarah Mesa Photography

Photo Credit: Sarah Mesa Photography

Lessons in Motherhood and Faith: Brokenness

The past few days have been exhausting. I have been playing single mom while Daniel has been away on a work trip. Justus hasn't been sleeping well, which means I haven't been sleeping well (though I usually don't sleep very well while Daniel is away). And a lot of my plans haven't worked out quite right, which has added to the stress.

But I have enjoyed the quiet evenings to myself, which has allowed me to journal and think through some things. Hence, this post.

Today marks 17 years of walking with the Lord. That means that half of my life now I have been a Christian. (This also marks the 10th year since I first blogged about this.) That's crazy to think about. Seventeen years is a long time. I have changed so much since that time and learned so much more about God and salvation and Jesus Christ as well.

Last year, continuing into this year, was a year of breaking and refining for me. Motherhood has tested my faith and stretched me in ways I could have never imagined. God has used this new role to chip away at my self-sufficiency and independence in new ways. It really is a daily dying to self for the sake of another who is completely helpless. But isn't that the gospel? Jesus died to pay for the sins of those who could not help themselves so that they could be restored to a right relationship with God. I should rejoice that I get to identify with His sufferings in such a small way.

But I don't.

I complain. I baulk. I doubt. I get discouraged.

One of the problems I realized I have - shamefully - is that I don't have a high view of motherhood. I have this underlying feeling that I should be doing more (as in more ministry outside of the home - my view of that is too exalted). I don't think this feeling comes from God. I think it comes from me finding my worth in things I do - especially things that people can see. (It was really hard to write that last sentence).

But what the Lord has been showing me is that I should be content with what He gives me and where He has me. "The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance" (Psalm 16:6). The influence I have on my son is an awesome privilege and responsibility. He needs the gospel just as much as anyone I might meet in an outside-the-home ministry. Motherhood is a high calling and a gift. And it's hard. It's constant and demanding and there's no manual. But there is God. And He promises to equip us with everything we need to do His will.

I recently read two articles from Desiring God that spoke into my situation and encouraged my faith. You can find them here and here. I was reminded through them that God wants me to be broken and humbly dependent on Him and that knowing Christ (which comes through brokenness) is better than any gains I could perceive (like sleep, ministry, down time - did I mention sleep?). The breaking has a purpose. It's to make me a better disciple and mom and wife and friend, etc. I often think I have a better idea of what would make me "better" and it usually doesn't involve anything uncomfortable. One of the articles stated, "Though it feels like we [mothers] are being killed all the day long, [Jesus] is renewing us inside." She reminded me that "death precedes life," something that I had forgotten. I was so consumed with how much I was dying that I lost sight of the fact that in Christ a resurrection is coming. He brings death out of life, and only in knowing Him in His suffering and death will I be able to know Him in His resurrection. This is hope. This is what I needed.

Because, honestly, the last year or so, I have not been in a good place spiritually. And I've hated it. But the truths from these articles have been like fresh water to a dehydrated soul. Instead of giving into complaining and grumbling because things don't go the way I'd like, I have been fighting to trust that God is working for my good (this has been especially hard the past few days, but the Lord has been helping me). He breaks us to bind us. He humbles us to exalt us. He reveals His strength in our weakness. He refines us so that we may know Him more. Therein is true life and joy.

My faith may not be where I would like it to be, but that's not where my focus should be anyway. It should be on the One in whom my faith rests and He will hold me fast.

Slow to Anger

So much has happened since I last posted. The holidays came and went. Daniel graduated with his PhD. A new year begun. Justus turned one (!). It's been a whirlwind in many ways and between my daily duties and trying to squeeze in a nap, writing has fallen by the wayside.

But there's something deeper than busyness that's kept me at bay. I haven't had motivation to write. I haven't been inspired. Which says more about my heart than anything else. I have been numb spiritually for quite awhile now and when that happens, thoughts and words feel stifled.

I can pinpoint where the apathy began to take root. It was almost a year ago. Justus was in the hospital with an infection, and I was beside him, watching him suffer. I felt abandoned by God. I felt that God didn't hear my prayers, let alone care about me. I felt that things were unnecessarily hard. I felt alone.

I should listen less to my feelings.

The seeds of bitterness took root during those lonely, difficult days in the hospital, and they continued to grow throughout 2017. I began to tally every disappointment, every hardship, and every loss and add them to the pain. It's hard to want to draw near to God when you keep a record against Him.

But God did not leave me in this state. Even now, I can see how He pursued me in different ways during that time. He didn't answer my "why" questions, but He did beckon me to come to Him. He showed me in His Word how He is near to the broken hearted (Psalm 34:18) and walks with us through the Valley of the Shadow of Death (Psalm 23:4). He reminded me over and over not to depend on my own understanding (Proverbs 3:6) and not to look at the seen things (2 Corinthians 4:16-18), but to trust in Him because He is good and does good - always (Psalm 119:68).

Still I wavered.

During the last few weeks, while studying James 1:19-21 and then listening to a sermon on it at Safe Haven Church, I saw a familiar verse in a new light. Verse 19 says, "Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger." I had always thought about this verse in regards to relating to other people. But when I read it this time, I was struck by the fact that this verse is in relating to God. The Apostle James is writing to a group of suffering Christians. He had earlier in his letter told them to count suffering all joy (v. 3), that those who remain steadfast in suffering are blessed (v. 12), that every good gift comes from our Heavenly Father (v. 17) - even the ones that come in difficult packages, -and that God saved us according to His own will (v. 18). Now James tells them to be quick to listen to God's Word in suffering, to be slow to speak (rashly) to and against God in suffering, and to be slow to anger against God in suffering.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

I had been slow to listen to God's Word, even when I knew what I was reading or hearing was addressing my heart attitude towards the Lord. I had been quick to speak against God in my heart, doubting His goodness and promises, as well as His disposition towards me. And I had been quick to be angry and resentful at God for all the hard things He was allowing in my life. I was full of pride, thinking that God was getting it wrong and not trusting that His ways are higher and better than mine because He can see the whole picture and because He has my ultimate good in mind.

James goes on in verse 20 to say that the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. He is not talking about righteousness by justification, as in trying to make oneself right with God. Jesus alone accomplished that. He makes us right with God. He is our righteousness. Rather, James is talking about a righteousness that leads to living according to God's standards. Man's anger doesn't do that. My anger doesn't do that. What does? A life lived by faith in Christ.

After hearing the sermon on this passage, my heart was pricked and exposed. I could see how I had put God on trial, demanding Him to answer my questions and answer to His ordering of my ways. I was foolish and prideful. But God in His mercy was patient to continually speak to me through His Word until, by His Spirit, I had a breakthrough. He opened my eyes to see His truth and my sin.

Verse 21 gives me the way out: "Put away [i.e. repent of] all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive [believe] with meekness [an attitude of humility] the implanted word, which is able to save your souls." "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). I have repented and, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I am trying to trust God's Word over my feelings and circumstances. I am trying to choose thankfulness. There is still much healing to be done in my heart and much fighting to be done to trust in the One who alone is trustworthy, but He fights for me and with me and He will see me through.