Up from the Ashes

     I've never lost a home to a fire, but I’ve witnessed my grandmother's possessions burn to the ground leaving almost nothing behind. All those years of stored memories and treasures were gone in an instant; their charred remains lay unrecognizable on the ground. As my family stood helplessly by wondering how they could surmount such a loss, I was confident that over time, with God’s help, they would find healing and renewal.
     That hope, or certainty, that God will step in and restore what’s been lost is what propels me on each day as I wake up in a place that’s not my home with an ache for our daughter who is thousands of miles away. As our older daughter, who is now a senior, dashes about trying to get out the door in time for school, I’m reminded that she too will be off to college soon, leaving me with an empty home and heart. As these scenarios play out in my mind, it’s only through God’s promises that I find comfort and understanding. God is good and overflowing with compassion. I believe that with all my heart. I know that He looks upon my losses with tenderness, but the house continues to burn. So I struggle to make sense of it; I wrestle to merge the reality of life’s disappointments with his promises.
        At the moment, I’m standing outside looking up at the smoke, watching much of what I’ve worked for seemingly disappear into nothing.  The fumes burn my eyes as I strain to assess what’s salvageable. I see remnants of memories scorched by the fire, too damaged to keep but still reminding me of life in that place we once called family. I can’t sit here forever. God is calling me to come, to rise up from the ashes and to follow him, my husband and my daughters as they continue on their faith journey.
     The sun shines brilliantly over the horizon as I finally pick up my suitcases and turn to follow. Mark keeps calling and motioning for me to come; I hear the girls’ laughter and see their dancing figures ahead. With each step the air becomes fresher, clearer. The dread that held me back gives way to a sense of courage as I look upon the beauty and freedom in the distance.  On the ground just beneath my feet tiny flowers are starting to bloom. Tips of pink, yellow and violet peek from under their dusty brown covering, promising new life. I glance at the sunshine sparkling on the water and the trees peacefully swaying in the wind, then back down at the delicate buds on the verge of something miraculous. God reminds me that he’s got a good plan for my future, one I didn’t see or understand, but one filled with meaning and purpose. Hope is calling me up from the ashes-- not to forget the past, but to turn my gaze upon his promises so that I can be fully alive in the present and future -- free to build new memories and experience his joyful restoration.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer 29:11

Freedom Comes in Letting Go

This is one of my favorite lines from J.J. Heller’s new song Loved. She’s singing about releasing hurt and pain and embracing the reality that we’re extravagantly loved by God in Christ. Knowing God’s love is the only catalyst that can motivate us to truly let go of hurt and ironically it’s only as we surrender our hurts to him that we can fully experience the depth of his love for us. Yet some trauma penetrates so deeply into the recesses of our souls that it almost refuses to budge. Like a cancerous growth, it zaps more and more of our strength and energy and leaves us feeling less than whole.

I’ve experienced this kind of trauma as a child and left it buried for almost twelve years. In fact, I’d spent so much energy denying that it happened that the act of finally facing it down, giving the trauma a name and talking about it, was like having open heart surgery. I still remember the first time that I shared my story of being sexually abused with a counselor.  Fear and shame had worked for so long to keep me silent, but God’s love prevailed, giving me the desire to expose the darkness and let the secret out

The healing process was slow, but the more I looked at the truth in light of God’s love and acceptance, the more I was able to move forward in hope that I could be healed. Talking it out, praying and memorizing God’s promises all helped me to see and believe that it was not only over, but that God planned to use it for good if I’d trust him. Letting go of the pain after facing it was a process that involved turning over my abusers to the Lord’s judgment with confidence that they would be held accountable by him, even if no one on the earth besides me knew about what they did. Once I released them, I was finally free to heal.

I thought that living through something that horrible meant I wouldn’t have to experience any further trauma in life.  But I was wrong. I don’t know where I got this idea– it certainly wasn’t from the Bible where God shows mankind often suffering multiple traumatic events in the course of a  lifetime. On center stage, of course, is Jesus who was repeatedly rejected, chased down, finally captured, beaten and crucified. His resurrection is God’s guarantee that while trauma can momentarily defeat us, it ultimately won’t destroy us if we’ve found our hope in him.

Over the course of the past few years I’ve allowed new trauma to stir up fear and shame in my heart once again. And I’ve stuffed so much of it, that until recently I didn’t even know what was wrong except that I felt intense sorrow. Instead of expecting God to do something amazing, I've found myself expecting something terrible to happen, waiting for the bomb to drop any second. Yet, God is encouraging me that no matter how much trauma I’ve endured, he doesn’t want me to live in a state of fear and shame. He’s reminding me that he’s able to bind up my wounds and bring healing regardless of the depth of the scars. He’s the great physician who made it a point to find the most wounded people on earth and touch their lives with his power.

I look at the pain that has recently surfaced in my heart and wonder how it can be healed; he looks at it and knows that he can transform it into abundant blessings. Right now, I’m in the process of letting go of the hurt and asking him to reach down and, by the power of his Spirit, bind up these wounds and bring healing. I’ve seen him do it in remarkable ways before, and I’m confident that he’s going to do it again.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Ps 147:3

"Apart From Me You Can Do Nothing"

     For the past four weeks I’ve been busy planning for my classes, printing out charts, lists and lesson plans, reviewing grammar and reminding myself of past challenges so that I’m prepared to overcome them this semester. And I’ve been praying – that the Lord will go before me into each classroom and bless my efforts. It’s been me doing the job with the icing of God’s blessing on top – something I rely on, no doubt, in order to succeed.

     Then something happened. I lost my rhythm last week and began feeling like a failure. Maybe it was an unresponsive class or disorganized day, but it left me feeling empty. While I couldn’t put my finger on what caused it, I began acting out what I felt like. Instead of going into the class with confidence that something great was going to happen because God had called me there, I went in expecting nothing, looking at my watch and hoping that the hour would soon end. What had fueled me the week before was zapping my energy now, threatening to drain the life out of me. My job hadn’t changed, the students were the same. God was still with me. But, something had changed in me.

     As I was plugging in the CD player for my sophomore English class this verse came to my mind: “Apart from me you can do nothing.” Just like the CD player, I'm dependent on Christ's power in order to be truly alive and fruitful. I remembered that all my efforts and contributions were never any guarantee of fruit and blessing, but that my confidence has to be grounded in Christ and his ability to work in and through me. Not my gifts, my talents, my charisma, my ability to do a good job with God’s help. But me with nothing, absolutely nothing to give apart from him.  

     With this reminder I felt a fresh surge of joy. God’s goodness and his desire to use my life brings purpose to everything in life, even the dull tasks that I'd otherwise have difficulty enduring. The emptiness that was gnawing at my heart gave way to the expectation that God is at work in and through me. With him, through him, and by his Spirit I can abound in every good work with a sense of power and purpose, bearing much fruit unto his glory.

I hope you'll take a minute to listen to this song by Sara Groves. It's one of my favorites as it deals with this daily struggle to abide in Christ's love rather than living life in my own strength.
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5zkOfSJSn4