There has never been a 24-hour-period in my entire life that I have lived so in the face of Darkness, never a time when I have done such serious, heart-rending battle with that which seeks to destroy us. Though I would very much like to tell the whole story, for now, I think it is best in this public forum to remain a little vague out of respect and honor for the individual lives and stories those involved.
It was nine days ago that things began to go awry for our family. I've never in my life felt such a cold sense of muted evil under our roof (and let me be clear - I believe that THOSE FORCES, not the people involed, are what we are battling). I don't think I slept much that night, and usually, I am plagued with self-doubt about decisions. I play conversations over and over in my head, thinking about what went wrong, about what I could have / should have done differently, and I think with grave concern about what the consequences will be - I am really a border-line obsessive-compulsive personality living only in the life-giving grace of the Lord. This time, for whatever reason, was different.
Nine nights ago, I cried out to God in each moment of waking restlessness. For hours and hours, I cried. "Please, please, be what I cannot be. Please rescue us from our own despair. Please let your grace extend to each of us in our weakest moments. Please forgive us of our deepest wrongs, and let us see as you see." And by the time morning dawned, I had more peace than I have ever felt in my entire existence. Peace about the future, peace about my children, peace in that I truly, truly have surrendered my control, released my painfully inflexible grip on MY life, MY future, and MY family, and gave everything up to the controller of all things. What freedom, what peace, what joy is offered in knowing that I don't have to (and in fact I can't) carry it all. And in that moment of waking in the joy of the Lord, I sang praises to him, as I have all throughout this week, for the goodness that He is, and I believe on the Word that He inhabits our praise, and therefore cannot be far when I praise Him.
At this point, I have no idea what the outcome of this particular struggle not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual forces in this world will be. Because Satan is powerful, and because God I believe that God rarely, if ever, forces Himself on us (though in this case, I really wish He would - for all of our sakes), I don't know for certain that our result will look like I desire it to look. Whatever it is, though, I will sing for joy; even at my saddest, I will sing for joy. In the words of my sweet spirit-filled friend, "God may not change your circumstances, but He will change how you see, engage, and respond to them completely."
"And I'll praise You in the storm, and I will lift my hands, for You are who You are, no matter where I am." - Casting Crowns
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Who am I?
"Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." James 1: 2 - 4
I've thought for a long time about joining the blogosphere, and other occupations have continually trumped this desire. The time has come, though. For the first time in twelve years, my writing outlet is not occupied by papers, due dates, deadlines, or grading, and two months after my dissertation and first book was completed, I found myself - mother of four children (one with very special emotional needs), foster parent, director / grant writer for a fledgling non-profit, and woman struggling to overcome an overwhelming and sometimes debilitating disease - unbelievably...ridiculously...bored. And I wondered, how could this possibly be? How could I have such a wealth of things to do in front of me, how could I have so many interests and passions,how could I know in my soul how short this life really is, how could I be surrounded by such beauty and still be so selfishly dissatisfied?
And then I started doing what a dear friend of mine encouraged me to do: "Listen to what God is whispering to your heart." My heart, my heart...What is God whispering to my heart? And when I listened hard - really, really hard - I could hear what God has been whispering to me since I was a little girl sitting in a closet, a corner,or anywhere quiet writing stories and poems in my cow-print journal, "You are a writer; you have always been a writer." So I write.
Now, God gave me all of the necessary implements to physically produce sound and to communicate through speech, but in the written word, He has given me my voice, and I am forever and ever grateful.
So who am I? This me, this mom, this wife, this daughter, this sister, this teacher, this learner, this writer is not who I am but is the He in me, and in these various trials, in the pressing darkness that makes us desperately, painfully ache inside, I consider it all joy as the He in me makes me, and will ever continue to make me, complete.
I've thought for a long time about joining the blogosphere, and other occupations have continually trumped this desire. The time has come, though. For the first time in twelve years, my writing outlet is not occupied by papers, due dates, deadlines, or grading, and two months after my dissertation and first book was completed, I found myself - mother of four children (one with very special emotional needs), foster parent, director / grant writer for a fledgling non-profit, and woman struggling to overcome an overwhelming and sometimes debilitating disease - unbelievably...ridiculously...bored. And I wondered, how could this possibly be? How could I have such a wealth of things to do in front of me, how could I have so many interests and passions,how could I know in my soul how short this life really is, how could I be surrounded by such beauty and still be so selfishly dissatisfied?
And then I started doing what a dear friend of mine encouraged me to do: "Listen to what God is whispering to your heart." My heart, my heart...What is God whispering to my heart? And when I listened hard - really, really hard - I could hear what God has been whispering to me since I was a little girl sitting in a closet, a corner,or anywhere quiet writing stories and poems in my cow-print journal, "You are a writer; you have always been a writer." So I write.
Now, God gave me all of the necessary implements to physically produce sound and to communicate through speech, but in the written word, He has given me my voice, and I am forever and ever grateful.
So who am I? This me, this mom, this wife, this daughter, this sister, this teacher, this learner, this writer is not who I am but is the He in me, and in these various trials, in the pressing darkness that makes us desperately, painfully ache inside, I consider it all joy as the He in me makes me, and will ever continue to make me, complete.
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