Everything Beautiful

"He has made everything beautiful in its time..."

Ecclesiastes 3:11

This verse is everywhere lately. And I don't think that's a coincidence. 

This last year and a half has been hard. The loss of my mom has been no less than unbearable most of the time. I have learned to live without her, but life never seems to feel the way I think it should. He is making this beautiful. 

It's easy to feel as though we've been forgotten in our heartache, when the truth is we are still very much facing loss. As we deal with my mom's estate, as we go through her things and decide what to keep and what it's time to get rid of, as we still smell her on her clothes, we are forced to feel the loss over and over again. He is making this beautiful.

Relationships have come and gone. Jobs have been harder than ever. Babies have been born who will never know their Gran-Jan. He is making this beautiful.

I can say this with confidence, because I have learned that the God who allows darkness in this life is also the God who brings light. The God who often seems silent in my heartache proves that He's been listening to my cries. He's taken more than I would ever willingly give up, but He's giving me more than I ever knew to ask for. The losses have been devastating, but what He's restored has been a beautiful glimpse of the glory that is still to come. He is making this beautiful.

The tears. The sorrow. The physical pain of depression. The loneliness. He is making this beautiful. He is making me beautiful. He makes everything beautiful in its time. And His timing is beautiful. 

I serve a big God

I serve a big God. 

I serve a big God, who saved me from big sins.

I serve a big God, who comforts me through big heartbreak.

I serve a big God, who has bigger plans for me than I have for myself.

I serve a big God, who gives big blessings.

I serve a big God, who sees me through the scope of His big gift, not my big failures.

I serve a big God, who promises me a big reward.

I serve a big God.

Tusting in God's Goodness -- This is harder than I thought

"Can't we just skip this week?" I've asked this question in my mind multiple times now. Apparently the answer is "no."

I couldn't skip yesterday, the one year anniversary of Mom's surgery. I couldn't skip the feelings that came with that. The memories of the relief in "knowing" she was going to be OK, in thinking that the worst was over. 

I can't skip today. I can't avoid the heartache in knowing that it's been an entire year since I've seen my mom alive. I can't help but remember the excitement I felt on this day last year as my sister and I prepared for Mom's homecoming by cleaning the house and planting flowers in the front yard. I can't stop the tears as I think about my last encounter with my mom. The way it felt when she held me as I cried at the thought of leaving her alone in the ICU for one more night. The gift of her last words to me - "I'm so proud of you."

And I won't be able to skip tomorrow, either. The horrific pain I felt as I realized she was actually gone. The way I felt she'd been ripped from our lives. The way I wanted to scream for her to come back. The way David hugged me after the nurse gave us the news as I told him that I didn't know what to do. The I sometimes still feel as though I don't know what to do. 

I just can't escape any of it. I have to survive these days. I have to endure these feelings. And I know I will; I've done it before. God always seems to carry me through them. 

There have been many days in the last year that I didn't recognize that's what he was doing. Weeks when I didn't feel his presence. Months that I didn't believe that we was still kind and good. But thankfully, God's kindness and goodness don't depend on my belief in them. Thankfully, he is a patient God. He knows my frame - he remembers that I am dust (Ps. 103). And though I may feel alone in my pain these next few days, though I may forget his kindess and his goodness (and I pray I don't!), he will carry me through nonetheless. 

I can't skip these days, as much as I think I'd like to. But I can use them as a time to look for God's presence. To praise him for bringing me this far; for not giving up on me this last year. And to look ahead with grateful anticipation toward days that I would never want to skip. To a time that I will be reunited with my family in the presence of our God, with no memories of the days I wanted to skip.  

Trusting in God's Goodness -- One Year Later

Standing on this mountaintop 

Looking just how far we've come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

Kneeling on this battleground

Seeing just how much You've done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone

Carried by Your constant grace

Held within Your perfect peace

Never once, no, we never walked alone

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Tomorrow, April 23rd, marks one year since Mom went into the hospital. I just can't believe it. In many senses, I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. It feels as though the events surrounding her death have just occurred. But in many other senses, I feel as though I can't remember a time before I felt the pain of her absence.

I remember everything about April 23rd, 2013. I remember what kind of day I had at work. I remember group texting with my mom and siblings. I remember when she asked me if I wanted to have dinner with her at Logan's. I remember what I ordered and what we talked about. I remember every feeling I had as the events of the rest of the evening unfolded - every fear, every annoyance, every joke we told as we waited for her to be transferred from the ER to the hospital.

But no matter how hard I try, I have no memory of the day before. No memory of work. No memory of any exchanges with her. No memory of the blissful ignorance of what was to come.

I look back and I wonder if God was somehow preparing me for what was about to happen, and that I missed it. I don't know. I don't think I ever could have imagined that two and a half weeks later I'd be sitting in a funeral home with my siblings discussing caskets and service arrangements. I wonder in what ways God may have been preparing Mom for what she was about to go through. She never discussed it. I truly don't think she knew. 

But there is one thing of which I am sure: that neither she, nor I, nor any of my family ever walked this journey alone. As we approach the upcoming anniversaries, I know memories and feelings will come back in a flood. Memories of the time I spent with Mom in the hospital. Memories of waiting through her surgery. Memories of the heartache of learning she'd gone to heaven, and the frustration in knowing no one here could tell us why. Memories of calling family members with the news, and making plans we never thought we'd have to make. Memories of dragging myself out of bed after restless nights, hoping what we'd just been through was some kind of terrible nightmare.
But those are not the only memories that will surface. I'll remember the peace that Mom had the morning of her surgery. I'll remember the rest that finally came when friends prayed for it on my behalf. I'll remember crawling into bed at the end of some days, knowing that the only way I survived my heartbreak is because God didn't let go of me.
Above, I've included lyrics to a Matt Redman song, "Never Once." I remember the first time I heard it, shortly after Mom's death. I hated it. I never thought I would look back with thankfulness for the ways I now see that God was with me.
I've grown to love the words to this song. Yes, many days of the last year have been harder than I can put into words. And there are many things I wish I could change about them. But I would never change the way I've come to know God's presence through the darkest of times. I would never change the way I've come to see how fare God's grace has carried my family. I would never change the way that now, I can truly say with joy, that I've never walked alone.

The Call to Empathy

Pain is inevitable. At some point in this life, everyone will experience pain. Some may experience it more often than others; some may experience it more deeply than others. But absolutely no one escapes it.
It is easy to feel alone in pain, as if no one else could possibly understand the level of hurt that another is dealing with. But as a Christian, it doesn't need to be this way. The beauty of the body of Christ is that it provides a family of other believers who feel for one another. We celebrate each others' triumphs. We mourn each others' losses. Or at least we ought to.
Sometimes we forget that this is our duty to one another, but Galatians 6:2 specifically commands us as followers of Christ to "bear each other's burdens." This is more than a command to feel bad for what another person is experiencing, but is a call to actually feel pain on behalf of what the other is experiencing. This is always an inconvenient, and at times even a seemingly impossible task. Even when a friend desires me to share in joy, I find it difficult to take my focus off of myself long enough to actually feel joy with them. I may easily fake brief happiness for another's sake, but to take the time to genuinely rejoice alongside someone else requires an amount of energy I rarely feel comfortable giving.
And if that is what it takes to relate to the joy of another, then feeling pain on someone else's behalf must be drastically more difficult. It is one thing to inconvenience myself enough to feel joy, but how much more burdensome it is to take my focus off of myself for the purpose of feeling pain. Let alone pain that is not mine. To many, it would seem unnecessary to put themselves through that.
But as brothers and sisters in the family of believers living in a world in which we do not belong, I would argue that it is absolutely necessary for you to feel my pain, and for me to feel yours. Because that is what Jesus did for each of us.
As Christians look to Christ's death for salvation, we ought to look to His life for sanctification. One of the most powerful chapters in the Bible is John 11, which describes the scene shortly after the death of Jesus' dear friend, Lazarus. It is here that we see our savior at His most human. He cries out in His own pain at the loss of His friend. He is "deeply moved" with grief on behalf of Mary and Martha who lost a brother. He hurts with them and for them. In this we see that God came to us to weep with us. We cannot seek to be like Christ and miss this critical aspect of His humanity.
It is also through Christ's example that we see that empathy is much more than an emotion; we find that the call to "bear each other's burdens" is a call to action. We cannot do for the hurting what Jesus did for Lazarus, Mary, and Martha. We cannot heal wounds or restore loss. But we can lead them to the One who does.
In Jesus' first encounter with Martha after her brother's death, we see an exchange of truth. She states her knowledge of His power. He confirms it. She remembers that He is the Messiah.
Faith doesn't come easily in pain. Sometimes, even when one knows the truth deep down, it is difficult to believe it. When a friend is hurting, one of the most powerful things that can be done is to speak truth to one another. To say it out loud over and over until it is believed again. And to not grow impatient with the one struggling in pain for belief.
Next, as Jesus asks for Martha's sister, Mary, we see a crucial aspect of Christlike empathy. The passage says that Jesus was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled" when He saw Mary's pain. After He asks her to take Him to the grave, He offers her no words. The Bible simply states that "Jesus wept."
I will never forget a time shortly after my mom's death, I was sitting in the car with a friend telling her what I was feeling, telling her about my pain and my fears. She hadn't said anything in a while, so I looked over at her. She was crying. Strange as it may seem, I was comforted to see her tears. She wasn't crying out of her own sadness. She knew she hadn't experienced the loss. She was crying for me - on behalf of my pain. There was nothing she could say to make it better, she offered no vague promise that "it will be OK," she just cried. We should never overestimate the power of empty words, or underestimate the power of compassionate tears.
The last thing Jesus does before returning life to Lazarus, is pray. He prays to express His own praise to God, but He also does this for the benefit of those around Him. He does something for them that they could not do on their own. This is huge.
Many people tell hurting friends that they are praying for them, but how many actually get down on their knees and cry out to God for the sake of those hurting? Sometimes pain is so deep that words can't be found for it. That all one can bring to God for himself is tears. This is why God gave us each other. So that you can pray for me when I cannot pray for myself, and so that I can do the same for you.
Finally, Jesus does the impossible: He raises Lazarus from the dead. And with this restoration of life comes restoration of hope, joy, and faith to the mourning. It is crucial to remember that healing will come, whether in this life or the next. We are promised that this world is not all there is; Jesus has more for us than the pain we experience here. And though it may not seem possible, He will return the hurting to the joy of their salvation, to the joy of the truth of who He is - the Christ who performs miracles. 

Why It's Hard to Write These Days...

One of my goals for the year was to be more disciplined in my writing. My purpose in making this goal was to write more frequently and on a wider variety of topics. Well, we're two months into 2014 and this is my first post this year. And guess what I'm going to write about...

I would have thought that by this time. things would be different. I would have thought that in the nine months since Mom's death my feelings would be different, and maybe I'd have a hard time writing because those feelings would be hard to put into words; but in actuality, the opposite is true. In actuality, I have a hard time writing because my feelings are the same, and it's hard to find new words with which to describe them. In actuality, I dread writing another blog concerning my grieving process, but what else is there to write about? I realize that life around me is going on - seasons are changing, friends are getting married, new lives are being born. Yet I also realize that life is going on without her, and with that realization comes a flood of grief that is just as fresh as the day that she left this life. 

Soon after Mom's passing, someone told me, "You never really stop grieving, you just change the way you do it over time." I know that this is true, as I have experienced it in the past. But everything I know about grief has been different with this experience. No other event in my lifetime has been so crippling, so heart-wrenching, so life-changingly painful as the loss of my mother. No other event has affected my every single day life the way that her death has. No other event has taken so much time to change the way I grieve. With each new day comes new experiences I wish I could share with my mom, and that never feels any less painful.

This is why it's hard to write. I hate to be redundant. I hate to draw attention to an event that happened so many months ago. But I guess that's my point - it didn't just happen so many months ago, it's still happening for me. So for now, I will keep saying what I've been saying all along: life is hard, but God is good. 

Christmas - His Birth was Just the Beginning...

From Matthew 1:18-23; Colossians 1:15-17, 19-22; 1 Peter 2:24; Matthew 28:19-20; Hebrews 9:28; Revelation 21:1, 3-5; 22:20

Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When His mother, Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, "Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: "Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel" (which means God with us).
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created... all things were created through Him and for Him. And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things.. Making peace by the blood of His cross.
And you, who were once alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, He has now reconciled in His body of flesh by His death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before Him.
He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you have been healed.
Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age... And He will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for Him.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth... Behold the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away... "Behold, I am making all things new... These words are trustworthy and true."
He who testifies to these things says, "Surely, I am coming soon."
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!