Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for July, 2012

I always wanted to be the chick singer in a band. My first stab at stardom took place in the 2nd grade. I really should have known better than to form a rock band with the most rambunctious boy on our block. We called ourselves The Super II (using Roman numerals in our name somehow added an air of cool-ness). Unfortunately, we never landed a recording contract, or even a gig for that matter. I blamed my partner for the band’s difficult and very public break-up when he put a hole through the skin of my snare drum during our first front porch rehearsal. It was a shame too, because we had some serious potential.

While I’ve spent the better part of more than 40-something years still dreaming about sound boards and stage lights, I guess I’ve been booked for the one gig NOBODY wants. I find myself cast front and center on the stage called grief, playing out what looks like just another tragic drama. But, deep in the recesses of my shattered soul I know that I know that I know this one thing:

While I do not like the way this particular scene has played out…

I am in the midst of a Greater Story whose triumphant end I know.

“Let them who sow with tears, reap with rapture.”

Psalm 126:5 The Septuagint

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

What’s a woman to do when…

The basket on the table contains the ashes of her brother…

 And sorrow comes parading…

To bid one last goodbye.

When she weeps as those who loved him…

Reach in for one last touch.

When words are few…

But, tears are many.

Just what IS a woman to do?

A woman must surrender at sunset…

 

And exchange his ashes…

for His beauty.

“To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.”

“In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.” Isaiah 61:3

Read Full Post »

I wish the sun would stop setting.

If, even for just a moment, God would stop it from going down…

Right here in this very place.

Image

But, the sun will set…

And, tomorrow’s ache will come long before I’ve dealt with today’s.

Because grief waits for no one.

But, then again…

Neither does love. 

“Certainly the faithful love of the Lord hasn’t ended; certainly God’s compassion isn’t through! They are renewed every morning.” Lamentations 3:22-23a

Read Full Post »

My life passage is Isaiah 61:1-4.

Powerful? Yes. Purposeful? Absolutely. But, on nights like this…when grief grabs at my gut and anguish atrophies every muscle of faith I can muster…I don’t care about power or purpose. 

I just want God to pick out a different life passage for me.

Please.

Why is it that in order to bind up the brokenhearted, I must know what it means to have my own heart shattered?

And, to comfort all who mourn, I must know what it means to bawl my guts out on the bedroom floor?

And, to restore the places long devastated, I must know what it means to sit among the ruins?

Because, in order for me to fully proclaim these things…

I must also fully bear them.

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:31-32)

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’ ” (Romans 8:35-36)

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37-39)

Read Full Post »

“The people who survived the sword, found grace in the wilderness…” Jeremiah 31:2 NKJV

What does grace in the wilderness look like? It looks like…

A morning message that stirs the Spirit.

A gift from someone who has walked THIS road.

 A symbol to hold out Hope’s light.

A word to keep carrying on.

A card in the mail from a friend.

A text of tenderness and blessing.

What does grace in the wilderness look like?

The shedding of a brand new light…on a very old promise.

Read Full Post »

Some say, “GRIEF IS LIFE’S GREATEST TEACHER.”

But, I’m not far enough along to agree or pass judgment…

My heart-wound raw and gaping.

Because frankly…if I had my way in the world tonight…

I’d alter the anguish of my journey. 

I’d pick a different teacher.

Because on night’s like this…

When all seems lost and dim…

Grief burns a hole through the center of my chest and I want an easier way.

I want to turn back time and cut death off at the pass.

Until I cease my anxious striving…and sit alone with God in the silence of my soul…

Then and only then, do I hear Him faintly whisper,

“You didn’t pick grief.”

“Grief picked you.”

“Just as it is written, ‘FOR YOUR SAKE WE ARE BEING PUT TO DEATH ALL DAY LONG; WE WERE CONSIDERED AS SHEEP TO BE SLAUGHTERED.’ But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us.” Romans 8:36-37

Read Full Post »

Then Jesus shouted, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out, his hands and feet bound in graveclothes, his face wrapped in a headcloth. Jesus told them, “Unwrap him and let him go!” John 11:43-44

I love the story of Lazarus because, well…Jesus raises a dead man from the grave. I mean …what’s not to love?

But, what should you do when death doesn’t rise? What should you do? 

What should I do?

Almost every post I’ve written over the last 9 months has been penned from a place of deep pain and desperate hope. Living in the shadows of Heaven’s silence. Lazarus getting sicker and sicker and still, no Jesus. Mary and Martha panicking and praying their guts out.

“Where’s the miracle? Why hasn’t Jesus come? When is He coming? Why, of all things, is my brother getting worse? So much worse?”

Like Lazarus’ sisters, these are the honest questions that I’ve cried out to God and wrestled with everyday. Every single day of my brother’s troubling illness.

While there is much I won’t pretend to understand, this I know: God has used this painful season to teach me to come alongside, more intimately, the suffering of others…those precious ones grieving the loss of a marriage…a dream…a family as family was intended to exist. And, this I also know…my intimacy with Christ has grown in breadth and depth beyond all confines.

These are all good things. I know that. Redemptive things. And, I’m grateful for each one. I am. I really am. But, the reality in which I now find myself is that…

I didn’t get what I wanted for Christmas this year…or the last three years, for that matter. I fasted, prayed, worshiped, wept…even slept with my Bible night after night. For three long years my heartcries only became more dramatic as each day passed and still…no “visible” or “tangible” answers. No healing. Nothing.

We tried everything to save my brother. Did everything. Prayed everything. And, still…so much pain and suffering. Too much. Everyday, his mental condition robbing him of dignity. Stripping him bare.

Every conversation…hearing him slip further away from me, the way a song slowly fades down low, until it comes to a silent end. And then…just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse…Heaven’s silence grew all the more deafening.

On December 11th, I got the one thing for Christmas that I never, EVER wanted.

Since Jay’s passing, I’ve found myself floundering in a greater measure of grief than I ever thought possible…the loss of his young life sucking the breath from my chest. My heart throbbing hot with the stark realization that his pain became far too much for him to bear, even for one more moment.

A pain he could not express, nor contain.

God, how can this be? While I know Jay is at rest in Heaven’s peace now, the reality of things gone seemingly awry has turned me upside-down and inside-out. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. His healing was supposed to happen on THIS side of Heaven, not the other.

I share this with you as I weep and grieve and groan–the computer screen blurred by endless tears–only because I know that God never intended us to hide our wounds–as much as we might like to–especially when they’re gaping wide open and bleeding out all over. Jesus didn’t try to cover up His blood. Instead, His blood covered all.

No doubt you’re longing for healing to happen on this side of Heaven too, as were we. That’s what drew most of you to our blog and to our marriage restoration story from the very start. But, as one year closes and another begins, we’re faced with learning to live out the sobering fact that…

Sometimes Jesus comes before death…

Sometimes Jesus brings life after death…

But, sometimes...death just comes. And stays.

Death has come and it is staying and amidst all my fighting and flailing, I know that I know that I know that I will drown in the massive waves of grief unless…

He trains my eyes and I strain my eyes…not to look, but to see. Because when I let God take me beyond the looking and into the seeing, I realize that…

Jesus did come.

Jesus came. 

I only know this because in the days since I got the one thing for Christmas that I never ever wanted, I’ve seen Jesus in unfathomable ways:

Jesus came in the person who left a candle on the porch of our childhood home.

Jesus came in the neighbor who consoled my father’s grief.

Jesus came in the memorial symbols that were definitely ALL THINGS JAY.

Jesus came in the sojourner who held me as I wept.

Jesus came in the smudgy sentiments of little hearts laid bare.

Jesus came in the dear ones who lent us hands and feet.

Jesus came in my Grammy, who wore Jay’s treasure with honor.

Jesus came in the red and green, hung against our mourning drab.

Jesus came in the sunlight, through the windows of the chapel.

Jesus came in the flowers, carried one-by-one.

Jesus came in the faces of the mourners, standing room only.

Jesus came in Hope’s candlelight, soft and glowing.

Jesus came.

Jesus comes.

Jesus will come again.

Read Full Post »