When God Lets Us Down.

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God is always good.

But it doesn’t always feel that way, does it?

God doesn’t always move mountains.

Sometimes we’ve been sitting on the rough side of rough our entire lives, praying faithfully, doing everything we can on our end and God doesn’t come through for us like we feel He should.

We may spend days on our knees in prayer, we may have the faith to move mountains, we may really need Him to come through for us in a specific way. But that doesn’t mean He will.

Sometimes God let’s us down. It’s true, we can say that.

His ways are higher than our ways. But sometimes, I think we fall into the trap that He has to heal us because He loves us. For reasons greater than we could ever comprehend, it doesn’t always work that way.

So then I wonder, what if we just trusted Him to love us in those ways we can’t understand, and trusted Him to take care of us in the deepest sense of the word.

For the past week I have been praying almost continuously for a loved one who is in more pain that I can even imagine. I pray for peace and strength. But above all I pray for healing. And I will never ever stop praying for healing. But today as I drove home from work, I realized that I don’t just believe that God has the ability to heal, I expect Him to. He has to, right? That’s His job.

But what if He doesn’t?

Then He is still good. And I will rest in His peace and His truth forever.

Life is so much bigger than what is going on around me. I have to trust that God is in complete control, and that He knows what He is doing.

Grabbing hold of faith, but letting go of expectations, letting things unravel as they may.

When God let’s us down it is only because our expectations are limited to what will be the least painful for us and those around us. We assume that is what God is after too. But what if He is after something greater, something more?

It is a relief to me that no one will ever fully understand the God of the Universe. That’s one thing in my life that I can’t even pretend to control. I just look up to God and say, “thank you for taking care of all this crap down here”. And then I rest in the truth that His goodness, though it may look different from my definition, is true goodness.

 

Resting In The Arms That Won’t Let Go.

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I opened my computer today to finish an article for Deliberate Magazine, and I couldn’t. I sat for an hour with my fingers on the keys, willing myself to remember how to string words together, yet I couldn’t remember how.

That’s always how I know that my heart needs to write about something else.

My heart is heavy today.

I have always been pretty good at tricking myself into thinking that I am in control of my life.

And then every once and a while, life hits me like a ton of bricks and I realize, once again, that I am not.

The heaviness that reminds me I am not in control, has become so beautiful to me.

I know it sounds odd. Heaviness is painful, not beautiful. But for me, the heaviness leaves me no choice, but to surrender. I cannot hold it on my own, and so I no longer am able to pretend that I am in control. I can exhale into the truth that I cannot do it on my own.

I prefer it this way really.

I don’t want to run through life on adrenaline, caffeine, and pride. I want to sink into the arms of my Savior. I want to release all that life hands me to Him.

So as I sit here, saddened by the pain of a suffering loved one. I am clinging to Jesus in a way that I have not for many months. And I am so thankful for the heaviness that reminds me of His presence, His goodness, His love for me.

Maybe one of these days, It won’t take so much heaviness for me to rest in the arms of my Savior. But regardless, I know He won’t let go.

 

 

 

Let It Snow.

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It seems as if time has stopped and everything is on hold.

The snow is still falling steadily outside my window. The few objects left in the storm’s way have taken on obscure shapes as the snow piles on their surfaces.

On most snow days I would bake some ooey, gooey cinnamon rolls for Eric and I, brew up some coffee, and enjoy a late breakfast. But today, I have made yeast free, sugar free, grain free blueberry muffins that may or may not be edible when they come out of the oven.

I have been on a strict diet for a few weeks now and will be for a few months. It’s main purpose is to rid my body of some bad bacteria that got out of control and is taking over. It’s nothing serious but it is a royal pain, not to mention a first world inconvenience. So for now, no cinnamon rolls for me.

It’s always quite interesting when you have to monitor what you eat. For someone with a history of an eating disorder, it’s like walking a tight rope. Monitor every little thing you put in your body, read and re-read packaging to make sure you can eat that. But don’t become too obsessed. Life, once again, revolves around food, and I am suddenly very aware of how different I am from that girl 8 years ago. Stronger, wiser, gentler with myself.

These past few months have been a series of triumphs and setbacks, medical bills we can’t afford, treatments that did nothing, a spirit crushed with fatigue and hopelessness. But it has also been filled with the grace of God, the power of His goodness, the blessing of His people surrounding us.

Life hits all at once. That’s just how it works. No sooner have you begun treading water again after a near drowning and another wave hits. But i’m learning that it’s not about getting out of the way of the waves,  it’s about learning to ride with them. And I have found the only way to keep afloat when riding gigantic waves is Jesus.

And so I praise Him today for his goodness, his faithfulness. I praise Him for the times life is beautiful and for the times it is too messy to untangle.

I thank him for this snow, this forced break.

It’s His permission to us to stop trying so hard and to just be for a little while.

All we can do is sit and watch it unfold all around us. We can’t control it, we can’t stop it. It’s out of our hands.

So let it snow.

Let it snow.

 

The Biggest Fear.

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Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be someone important. I even went through a period of time where I was convinced that I would be the next virgin Mary, destined to carry the Savior in my womb. I was 7, maybe 8 at the time, and to me, that seemed like the ultimate proof that my existence mattered.

I had lost touch with that fear until very recently. Somehow as adults we have a knack for forgetting how we actually feel, a gift for hiding pain. And so I had almost forgotten how desperately that little child had wanted to be seen.

I no longer go to a job every day. I am writing full time, in my dining room. It’s an odd transition for me. There are no coworkers, no set time I must be at the office. I am in control of it all, and yet so many things seem out of my hands.

Jobs are funny things because they are not who we are, and yet we attach ourselves to them as if they define us. Regardless of whether really like them, they offer us some sort of reassurance that we are needed, that we matter to the grand scheme of things.

Nowadays my biggest task is to remember to eat lunch amid my ceaseless typing, to meet my deadlines, and to let Max out so he doesn’t pee on the floor.  But if I forgot any of those things, only my husband, my editor, and Max would know. I can no longer tie my significance in this world, to what I am doing every day.

Many of us struggle with the fear that we are insignificant. That we will be forgotten, unnoticed, overlooked. That the world will never see us as an important piece to its puzzle. I think that we all share this fear on some level.

But there is this still small voice that reminds us of our purpose.

The still small voice is the one that brings peace, joy, and love of self and others.

Amidst all the “not enoughness”, and the moments of feeling insignificant, there is a truth I am right where I need to be.

Today I am reminded of the goodness of the creator. His steadfastness. The way he challenges me to be more like him, to find my worth in him alone. I am thankful for this journey that twists and turns, and sometimes makes no sense.

May our significance be found only in him. May our lives reflect his purpose and not our own.

 

 

 

 

Honoring The Weariness.

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For all of us feeling weary today.

So many things on the calendar. So many burdens on our hearts.

Our culture tells us to get over it. Drink some coffee or a red bull. Fight the weariness. Weariness is weakness, don’t let it win.

My fellow wanderers; That is NOT TRUTH.

We are free to rest.

We are free to say “no” to another potluck.

We are free to ignore emails for the weekend.

We are free to and ask ourselves what we really need.

Honor the weariness.

And if there are commitments that we feel we cannot break, or meetings we cannot miss, we will still honor the weariness.

We will drink a lot of coffee if we need to, and chew tons of gum to keep us awake, but we will honor the weariness and the reason it is there.

Because weariness is just a part of ourselves saying “I cannot anymore, I am running on empty”.

So we will gently encourage ourselves through the weariness until we can rest away from it all, even for a moment.

 

“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest” {Matthew 11:28}

For Those Aching This Holiday Season.

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Thanksgiving is upon us.

We are rushing to the store, baking pies, stuffing turkeys, vacuuming the house, cleaning windows.

Everyone is busy, alive with the hustle and bustle of the season, the cheer of the holidays.

But every year, right before the holidays begin, before the distractions ensue, I am reminded of the pain of this world.

This holiday season there will be empty seats at tables all over the world. People we miss dearly, people we want back.

This holiday season some will spend in hospital beds or beside them, in chemo treatment, rehab, secluded with debilitating depression.

The holidays carry much joy, but are also a reminder of the deepest pain.

Let us be gentle with how we celebrate. Because, for so many, this holiday season cannot end soon enough. Every decoration, every meal, every song, a reminder of what is missing, of what was lost.

If you are aching this holiday season, can I say that my heart reaches out to you. I am praying for God’s strength and peace. For He also knew suffering in this season, and he walks with us. He takes our hands and he says, “I know this is hard. I know you cannot bear it. But am with you and you will make it through.”

“The Lord Bless you and keep you; The Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” -Numbers 6:24-26

 

 
 

 

What David Is Teaching Me About The Mundane.

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I took Max for a walk today to break up the monotony of writing (or more accurately, binge watching Dawson’s Creek). And as he dragged me five blocks I did some major thinking. Not just regular walk thinking, but the real questioning life stuff.

When I look around me, I don’t necessarily see an obvious purpose for my life. I am a 25 year aspiring writer making a living off of watching other people’s kids. The day to day often feels monotonous and uninspired. And while I love my life in so many ways, I can’t help but feel like I am missing something that everyone else is getting.

And so I look to my good friend David, as I always do when I am drowning in the mundane.

Yes, David the shepherd boy who no one noticed for years and years. The one who spent all of his time with the sheep, walking up and down hills, and playing his harp for an audience that couldn’t applaud. And yes he eventually became a king, a ruler over many, but what Is most interesting to me is how all the mundane stuff shaped his character.

Years and years at the bottom of the rung, spending all his time with animals, looked down upon by even his own family. I’m sure he felt discouraged on many occasions. His life may have even felt purposeless at times.

But if he hadn’t experienced the mundane would he have made a good king? If he had never learned to defend his helpless little lambs, and walk through the mountains would he have made it to the palace in the first place?

This boy spent years alone with God; listening and resting in his presence. Even though his life wasn’t getting anymore exciting there for a while.

And so as I walk the mundane, a time in my life with many directions yet no direction at all, I remember the shepherd boy. A boy whose mundane was actually the important stuff, the stuff shaping him into the man he was meant to be.

So if your walking in the mundane today, unsure of where you’re going or how to get there, take heart in the truth that these moments matter. We grow the most in the little moments, not the big ones.

 

 

 

 

 

Why Struggling With Our Faith Is A Good Thing.

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I’ve struggled with my faith since the day my Sunday school teacher told me that God is three in one (um…what?). That was the beginning of a never ending confusion about what exactly I believe.

It has caused me the greatest turmoil, and the deepest peace.

The enigma that is God is terrifying. We like to control things, know things, understand things, but this is one thing that we will never be able to grasp. We hate that. Some of us cannot live with that. So we line up all of our ducks in a row, dot all of our “i’s”, and still have no control.

I have spent most of my young life assuming that there are answers out there to my God questions and I am just missing them.

What if there are no answers?

What if there are no formulas?

What if faith is always a struggle?

And most importantly: What if that’s ok?

What we like to call “struggling with our faith” is a part of faith. It’s not this separate thing that we need to get past in order to have real faith. It is faith. it’s the most beautiful part of our faith.

Who needs to have a relationship with a God that makes total sense?

All of our questions and our unknowns only pull us closer to our creator.

Even questioning the very existence of God.

Yup, I totally just said that, so sue me.

God wants a real relationship with us. Like a really real one. None of this fake stuff that we do so much with each other.

Even the hardest stuff.

A friend of mine told me the other day, “I want to believe in God, but I just have so many questions”. And so I told her, “there doesn’t need to be a ‘but’ in that sentence. Believing is having questions”.

Our questions won’t scare God, they won’t offend God, they won’t even make God hate us.

They may actually be the thing driving us straight into His arms.

Struggle with your faith friends. Ask all of the deepest, darkest questions. That’s the real faith.