3 Invitations From God on the Road to Forgiving Community Wounds

Sweet community in my living room.  Fresh air to my heart.

True Body-of-Christ community is wonderful and life-giving.

But if you've done this whole "life together" thing for very long, you know that it can also be one of our greatest sources of pain, because every community is made up of broken, messy, imperfect humans.  

And I don't think we'll ever do it exactly right or be free from all of the messiness.

In community, opportunities to forgive and extend grace to our fellow humans are numerous.  I've personally had more than a couple of devastating experiences within the context of church community.  

I know stories like mine are common.

Past wounds from community that go unhealed or unforgiven create a filter in our hearts that skews the way we experience our current community situations.  But God has some of His sweetest invitations for us hidden within these painful places, and within His subsequent challenge to us to forgive.

As we intimately encounter our Father's heart in the places of pain in our own heart, whether from the past or the present, we can begin to see situations, and every heart involved, from His perspective.  

It's from that place of intimacy with Him that we can walk forward into true forgiveness.  And simultaneously, into freedom and healing.

Here are the 3 step-by-step invitations that I believe God lovingly extends to us as we walk through pain in the midst of doing life together with other believers:

1. He asks us to look away from our hurt and the ones who've done the hurting, and fix our eyes on Him.

He is the One who is unchanging, even when our dearest relationships are shaken.  He whispers to our hearts: Look to me. Take your eyes off of your circumstances, and let Me bring peace and stillness to your scarred heart.  Trust Me.  Meditate on My character, My faithfulness to your heart, My unconditional love for you.  Find your identity in My heart toward you, and not in the words of those who've hurt your heart.  My voice over you is the one that matters right now.  

2. He calls to us to hold our hearts open before Him.  To choose not to numb the pain by shutting our hearts down.  To trust Him to be the healing balm that tenderly covers our hurting places.

We have a Father who deeply loves us and is passionately committed to our wholeness.  We can rest in this truth.  After community has hurt our heart, we may need to spend lots of time alone with Him for a season, pouring out our heart and our pain and our tears before Him.

Raw, openhearted, honesty with God that flows out of a place of trust even in the face of great pain is one of the sweetest forms of worship to His heart.  

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."  -Matthew 5:4 

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." -Psalm 34:18

I believe there is a unique intimacy with God that comes in seasons like these when we allow ourselves simply to mourn before Him for a time.  When we choose not to "shove" our raw emotions, but instead, to pour out our heart to a Father who is tenderly attentive to our every cry.   

These moments in my personal history have forever changed and deepened my walk with Jesus.

After a time, He takes our hand and leads us out of that season of acute pain and we begin to move forward with Him.  

Healing comes in stages.

3. He invites us to share in His heart, see with His perspective, and experience His compassion for those who've wounded our hearts.

This can be the toughest part: remembering that our battle isn't against flesh and blood (Ephesians 6:12), that it's not ultimately people who are out to destroy our hearts - it's the enemy.  People are broken, hurting, and they hurt others out of the unhealed places in their own hearts.  

As difficult and painful as it may be to ask, seek God for His perspective on those who've hurt you.  Ask Him for His heart of compassion for them.  Ask Him for wisdom to know how best to love and bless them (Matthew 5:44).  

Knowing and experiencing His heart toward those who've sinned against you is another facet of the intimacy with Him into which He invites us as we walk toward healing.

Out of this place of experiencing the heart of God for those who've hurt our hearts, real, genuine, gut-level forgiveness can begin to happen inside of us.  And our hearts can move toward freedom.

When the pain has been deep, forgiveness usually comes gradually, in layers.  It takes time.  

But it does come, as we surrender our hearts to His healing process within us.  As we look at the offenses against us in light of the cross, in light of the scandelous, extravagant goodness of the Gospel.   In light of all that we've been forgiven.

He is so committed to walking this process out with us.  Our hand wrapped in His... our heart wrapped in His.  And the intimacy with Him that comes from sharing in the fellowship of His sufferings brings the deepest comfort, intimacy, and healing.

This is not a "you'd-better-suck-it-up-and-choose-to-forgive" kind of forgiveness (though forgiveness IS a choice).  This is forgiveness that's motivated out of the secret place of intimacy, out of trust in the Father to cover and heal our wounds.  It's forgivness that comes as we move in close to His heart and experience His empowering grace.

Let's trust His committment to heal our hearts, friends, and walk forward into forgiveness together.   This is the path to true freedom.

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**Pulled this out of the archives and spruced it up for today. :) Thanks for extending grace!  Busy last week working on my new e-book, which is launched, FREE, and available for download when you subscribe to my monthly-ish newsletter here: 

Stillness Manifesto: A Call to NON-Action

(Complete with Step-by-Step NON-Instructions).

Stillness Manifesto is a call to rediscover the practice of stillness as a facet of our life in God.  Experiencing Him in this way has radically changed my walk with Him, and I am so excited to share these truths, ideas, and non-instructions with you!

~~~

**RELATED: How I Lost My Best Friend [God Crafts Hope in Secret Places]**

For When Your Dreams Are Dying [And MY FIRST E-BOOK! My GIFT to YOU!]

Wow!  Big day around here!

I'm guest posting at the Better Mom!  So fun!

ALSO...

I'm officially launching my first eBook today, and I'm so excited to share it with you!

Stillness Manifesto:

A Call to NON-Action

(Complete with Step-By-Step NON-Instructions)

Stillness Manifesto is my FREE gift to you.  Click here for info.

And now...

For When Your Dreams Are Dying

Since my husband and I were engaged, we’ve dreamed of having large family.  10-ish kids was our plan.  Some biological, some adopted.  

But our 2 attempts to foster-to-adopt and our 4 total pregnancies have left us with only 1 child.  One on Earth, anyway.  

3 in Heaven.

We also have a domestic adoption in progress.  14 months in, and we’ve not had so much as a nibble yet.  Definitely didn’t expect to be waiting this long.

And at age 32 with a hubby who’ll soon turn 35, and one (albeit amazing) 2-and-a-half-year-old little guy running sprints through our house, the fulfillment of these dreams is looking unlikely. 

In this season, our longings and plans seem to be slipping like sand through our fingers, like seeds that must go into the ground and die in order to bear fruit (John 12:24).

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So blessed to have the privilege of guest posting over at The Better Mom.  

Inviting you to hop on over and finish reading. :)

(Don't forget to come back and get your copy of Stillness Manifesto!)

The Courage of Not Burying Hope in a Dresser Drawer

**Quick addendum: I seem to be having problems with the comment link today from the "home" page of the blog.  If you click where it says "no comments" above (under the title), you'll see the comments.  :)  (If you got here by way of link directly to this post -as opposed to the home page-  you should see comments at the bottom.)  Working on figuring this out.  Thanks for grace today friends!**

So there's this shirt that lives in the top drawer of my 2-and-a-half-year-old's dresser.

It stayed at the bottom of the drawer for the longest time, buried under 20-or-so others.

Never worn.

Well, never by my son anyway.  It was my nephew's, and my sis-in-law graciously passed it on to us along with a box of other hand-me-downs.  I'm always thrilled to get clothes from them, and this t-shirt was no exception.

"He'll wear it soon," I thought.  I was so excited for when he would.

I stuck it underneath all his other shirts though.  It wasn't time yet.

In March, I found out I was pregnant.  Saw that +  sign just days before I was scheduled to go visit my parents in North Carolina.

Pulled out that long-awaited t-shirt and stuck it in the suitcase as I packed.

I planned to have Isaac wear it the day after we arrived.  To wait for my parents to notice and react.  I was beside myself with excitement.

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*

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I started bleeding the night before we were supposed to leave for NC.

My pregnancy announcement looked very different than I'd planned.  More like, "Mom and Dad, I'm pregnant but I think I'm miscarrying."

I lost my baby while at my parents' house.  

Isaac never wore the shirt.

It stayed in our suitcase.

Fast forward a week.  I arrived home from NC.  Unpacked the suitcase.  The shirt went back in Isaac's dresser with all the others.  

And as I unpacked, I sensed this loving challenge from the Father: "Dana, don't bury it.  Don't bury your hope."

Ouch. 

I wanted to put it in the bottom of the drawer.  I didn't want to notice it every day when I picked out clothes for my boy.

Didn't want the constant reminder of this massive longing, still unfulfilled.

But I obeyed the nudge.  The shirt stayed near the top of the stacks.

In the last couple of weeks, 2 birth moms have chosen other families.  Our adoption wait continues.  

Again, the desire to bury the shirt underneath all the others.  Out of sight, out of mind.

And again, the choice to keep it near the top.


This Path Is SO Not Safe

Sunday at church, our pastor mentioned Hannah, from the Old Testament.  How she waited and prayed and cried out to God continually for a son.  

For years.

How she so acutely felt the longing for a child, that Eli, the temple priest, thought she was drunk as she poured out her heart to the Lord.

How she chose to hold her desires before God with an open heart.  Chose not to allow bitterness to creep in.

Hannah had some serious courage.

It takes courage to allow an unmet longing to lie open before the Lord (Psalm 38:9).

It takes courage to allow yourself to continue to feel the weight of your desires.  To ache.  To long.  To weep.  To wait.

To hold out hope for what seems like an eternity.

Heart and hands shaking, I walked to the front of our sanctuary Sunday morning and shared what I feel is an invitation from the Lord to us who wait, to us whose God-given dreams have yet to become reality:

There is a unique intimacy with Jesus to be found here.

Allowing the depths of our longings to lie open before Him is a profound expression of trust in our God.  

Trust that He is holding our hearts, collecting our tears, gently sustaining us as we wait.  Trust that He will catch and hold and tenderly mend all our broken pieces.  That He will really, deeply be Enough for our hearts.

Shutting down our longings is much less risky.  Numbness and bitterness can feel like a safe zone.  Feeling our longings is scary.

We're terrified the pain might be more than we can bear up under.

Yet choosing the "safe" path means missing out on deepened trust.  Missing out on knowing Him in the depth of intimate friendship that He so wants to extend to us in the place of our aching.

When we choose the safe path, a piece of our heart dies.  Numbing ourselves to pain means numbing ourselves to joy, to love, to trust.

To Him.

But the pain and risk of allowing our longings to lie open, raw before Him, become the open door that allows His comfort to come in and tenderly embrace our hearts.



The Sweetest Thing in the World

Why does God invite us to hold out hope for dreams that He might never choose to fulfill?

I'd like to believe that when a dream aligns with God's heart, He always promises to bring it to fruition if we wait long enough.

But that's not true.

He doesn't always fulfill our dreams, or meet our expectations.

Yet He asks us to hope.

And He works all things, all things, together for our good (Romans 8:28).

In the waiting, the longing, He is after our good.  In inviting us to hope for dreams that may never come to fruition, He is after our good.

"How can this be? All things for my good?  ALL THINGS?  REALLY Lord!?"

It's the cry of my heart sometimes, in the moments when I wonder if part of me will be crushed by the pain of  unfulfilled hope.  Of continual disappointment. 

But intimately knowing His nearness in our heart's most tender places?  It really IS our ultimate good. 

And not in an "I know this must be what's best for me so I'm just going to suck it up and choose to believe that it's God's will for me somehow" kind of way, either.

Friend, His comfort in the ache of those raw, unmet longings becomes the sweetest thing in the world.  

Literally.  Tangibly.

It really does.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4).

Blessed.  

Truly.  Sweetly.  Deeper than words.  I am.

So the shirt will stay near the top of my son's dresser drawer.

And hope will stay at the forefront of my heart.

By His sustaining grace, I will refuse to let it be buried.

To quote Brennan Manning in his book Ruthless Trust: "To live without risk is to risk not living."

I want a fully alive heart.  And I want to know the depths of His heart.

So I'll say no to the safe path.

How about you?

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If you're finding encouragement here and you don't want to miss out on future posts, could I invite you to hop up to the top of the right sidebar and enter your email address in that box?  Only takes a sec, and you'll be subscribed to receive every post via email.  I usually post 3 times per week.

~~~A Brief Note~~~

One of my favorite (if not my absolute favorite) EVER authors passed away last week.  Brennan Manning wrote Abba's Child and Ruthless Trust - 2 books that have wrecked me over the years, in a very good way.  Abba's Child in particular radically changed my life back in 2005.  I've read it multiple times since.

A friend of my husband's and mine wrote a great blog post highlighting and honoring Brennan's life/writings.  Very worth your read.  I'm personally planning to read more of Brennan's writings in the near future.

Anyway, here's that blog post by our friend Josh.  Have a look.

I'll leave you with one more Brennan Manning quote, this one from Abba's Child:

"Define yourself radically as one beloved by God.  This is the true self.  Every other identity is illusion.  God's love for you and His choice of you constitute your worth.  Accept that, and let it become the most important thing in your life."

This is my blessing for you all today.  May you define yourself radically as one beloved by your Father.

Because oh, how you are.

For When Your Hope Feels Bent and Bruised

         

A bruised reed He will not break, and a faintly burning wick He will not quench.  He will faithfully bring forth justice.

-Isaiah 42:3- 

When the storms have bent and bruised your hope... 

Where your heart has bowed low, given in to the pounding weight of the deluge...

Friend, may you find courage to turn toward Him again as a flower to the sun.

May you know Him intimately as the lifter of your head, your heart, your hope.

May you have grace to trust, to let Him in, as He comes to tenderly straighten out your bent places.

May you experience Him as the faithful Bringer of Justice to your heart.

the Repairer of Hope.

the Rebuilder of Dreams.

the Restorer of Joy.

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Asking Jesus to breathe new hope and courage into each of your hearts this weekend.

Be so blessed, friends, and so alive.

PS. Want to receive posts in your inbox?  Scroll to the top of the right side bar and stick your email address in that little box. :)  Free.  Simple.

PPS.  If you'd like to receive e-newsletters from Moments and Invitations on a monthly-ish basis, click here.  In my newsletter, I'll be able to share a little more intimately than I can on the blog.  Info like book process updates, glimpses into my family/church family, and a short devotional based on what the Lord's highlighted to me recently.

Thanks for journeying here a bit today.  You are so very appreciated.

How I Lost My Best Friend [God Crafts Hope In Secret Places]

Last year, I lost my best friend.

I know that sounds dramatic, but this was no joke.  I really did.  

We had been best friends from age 20, had "grown up" together.  12 years of history:  Laugh-till-you-cry inside jokes, shared pain, mingled blood, sweat, tears.  It seemed like it was all swirling, unpreventably rushing down the drain.  

Becoming nothing but memories that shot my heart through, that made me wince upon every recollection.

Huge issues had arisen - issues that profoundly impacted both her heart and mine.  Problems that were much, much bigger than just she and I.   Many of those dear to us were affected.  Relationships that spanned years and years were strained, pulled apart.

And my friend and I?  We lived in separate states and experienced the situation so very differently.  We simply could not arrive at perspectives that lined up with each other.  

Believe me.  We tried.  Hard.

No headway.  Only damaged trust.

And since our hearts were so deeply invested in our unique perspectives, we found our friendship caving in around us.

I couldn't believe what was happening.  I was losing my best friend.  Neither of us had ever dreamed this was possible. That anything would ever have the power to tear us apart.

I think I was in shock.  In shock, and brokenhearted.

I was convinced: our friendship was over.  Probably for good.  I didn't see, at all, how God could possibly resurrect our relationship, our trust in one another, our "I-can-completely-be-myself-around-you" wide open hearts.

"Maybe we can try to talk again in 5 or 10 years." The thought was my last-ditch effort to hold onto some small degree of hope as our final attempts at open communication failed.

And then, there was nothing but silence between us.  The silence cut deep.

In March, I found out I was pregnant.  Under normal circumstances, she would have been one of my first phone calls.  The heart-agony of not being able to invite my long-time friend to celebrate with me was acute, even in the midst of my joy.  

Then I miscarried.  Again, couldn't call her.  Couldn't process with her.  Couldn't allow her to mourn with me.

Everything reminded me of her.  This song, that picture, this restaurant, that type of car.  Memories were plentiful.  Living in the city where she and I spent so much time together throughout our early and mid 20's, I couldn't escape them.

And I think part of me didn't want to.

It was the memories that made me feel... that let me know my heart was still alive.  Alive in general, and alive toward her.  They were piercingly painful reminders of how much I loved her.  How our hearts were knit.  How she was a part of who I am.  

David and Jonathan.  Our hearts were like that.  And as much as one half of my heart wanted to just "be okay," to move on with my life and ignore the absence of this "sister of my heart,"  the other half couldn't.

Months passed.

Crafting Hope In Secret Places
And then, just last week, a totally unexpected series of events led to a brief discussion via private Facebook message. Her communication with me led me to wonder if her heart might be more open toward me than before.  So I decided to nudge what seemed like, maybe, it was an open door.

Heart trembling, I said "yes" to hope.

I asked if we could talk on the phone.  She said she was nervous.  "But yes, let's do it."

I was nervous too.  No doubt.

And then?  Miracles.  Straight up, blow-your-socks-off miracles.

Our kids' nap time the next day found us talking, crying, laughing, crying some more.  For just under 2 hours.  Hurts explained, apologies offered, forgiveness extended.  We shared many of the "I miss you but can't call you" moments of heartache from the last number of months, ached with each other over them.  

Heart doors were flung wide open, sighs of relief heaved over and over again.

And oh, the God stories.  Stories of hearts supernaturally changed and freed by Him.  Perspectives tweaked.  Sudden, miraculous ability to find common ground that had been buried deep, impossible to dig out only months before.

I have my friend back.  Sister of my heart.  My "Jonathon and David" best bud.

"Shishters."  With Alissa at my wedding in 2007.  She was my matron of honor.
(This post was written and published with her permission.)

These last few mornings, I've almost had to pinch myself upon waking, as the reality of our restored friendship crashes in on my heart all over again.  It's real.  It really happened.  Oh Father, thank You.

Thank You that Your ways are not my own, Your thoughts are higher than mine, Your plans are greater, and Your love is stronger.  

Thank you that You're a God of restoration, that, to You, friendships centered around Jesus, forged by years and tears and deeply invested hearts, are SO not trivial, not flippantly cast aside.

Thank You that You have the power to move mountains - and human hearts - and that You're fiercely committed to doing so.  

Thank you that even when we lose hope, You never do. 

That our hope lost is Your opportunity to break in, surprising us with Your beauty and bringing glory to Yourself.

Surprising us with His beauty.  Isn't that what God does in situations like this?  He makes a way where there seems to be no way.  He crafts hope deep in the hidden, secret places, beneath the surface, His hand invisible to our natural eye.

All the while, we wonder if He cares about this detail, that loss, that relationship.

And then, in His perfect time, He who is HOPE?  He BURSTS forth, back into our view, in all His glory. and the perfect, intricate splendor of His master plan is unveiled in all its beauty.

I'm left speechless.  Undone by His tender care for my life, my heart.  For her life, her heart.  And His value for our friendship.  Heart overflowing with gratitude, and cell phone in hand, ready to call my best friend "just because."   Because now, I can.

After those 2 hours on the phone the other day, I updated my Facebook status: "My heart is so full."

And her immediate "mine too!" under my status was the sweetest picture of God's unexpected, extravagant goodness.  His perfect, beautiful-even-when-unseen crafting of hope in the hidden places of our hearts and lives.

Friend, when hope seems to die, may you have courage to believe that He is faithful.  Courage to trust that He is still working, shaping, building, planning, creating.  He never quits.  In the dark days, when you can't see His hand, may you rest deeply in the truth that Hope will burst forth in His perfect time.  May you find peace in anticipating the unveiling of His secret work that will be so extravagantly, surprisingly perfect for you.  Beyond your wildest dreams.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever.  Amen.  

(Ephesians 3:20-21)

Brief note from Dana:

Hi Friend,

If you've found encouragement here at Moments and Invitations, I want to invite you to subscribe to my soon-coming e-newsletter.  This will be a private, email communication in which I'll share a little more intimately than I can on the blog (including updates on the writing of my book and glimpses into my personal/family life), as it will go out to a smaller group of readers.  Subscribing will allow us to stay connected at a more personal level.  Interested?  Click here to read more.

P.S. Reading via email or a reader?  Want to click over to the blog to comment or explore further?  Click here. 

Also -To encourage you if you're walking through a season of torn relationships,
written during the falling-to-pieces of this precious friendship: God's Invitation in the Midst of the Storm

Previous post:
Why I Do What I Do: My World View

PS - Stopping back by today to link up with Chasing Blue Skies!

So I Had A Miscarriage... And Our Adoptive Family Profile Is Being Presented Today.

(So I have another piece, kind of a "part 2" to the last piece I wrote re. Lizard Skillz.  I was going to post it today.  But... I'm feeling the need to wait on that one and bring you this today instead.  Hang with me friends?)

Image Credit

10 days ago, I had a miscarriage.

I didn't write about it.  I kept quiet not because I felt the need to keep our loss a secret, but because I honestly just didn't know what to say about it.  I felt numb.  

I wondered where my emotions were.  Had they died?  Had my ability to grieve been permanently seared by the number of losses I've experienced?

1 baby, 2 babies, now 3 babies... Not to mention our former foster daughters - both of them.  

That's kind of a lot of loss crammed into 5-going-on-6 years.  A lot of nightmares.  A lot of heart-wrenching, agony-filled cries to the Lord.

A lot of unanswered "WHY?"s.

And this time, this last loss, I just didn't quite know how to process.  If you talked with me during that week that I miscarried, I probably sounded weirdly okay.  Or rather, simply out of touch.  I was genuinely okay on one level... I wasn't putting up an "okay" front.  Under the surface though, I knew I needed to feel more. 

But since I couldn't at the time, I let it go, handed my heart and my emotions and my grief process over to the Lord, trusting Him with the process and the timing.  I put one foot in front of the other and kept walking.

Fast forward to today.  I sat down to write a blog post about something completely different.  Something that will now have to wait for another time.  Because when I glanced at my email, I had a link to Ann Voskamp's blog in my inbox... and since I can rarely resist her writing, I hopped on over to her place.  

This was her post for today.

And that Laura Story song?  It used to make me mad.  For real.  That doesn't happen to me often.  I used to turn off K-Love whenever it would come on.  I could write a whole 'nother post about the reasons for my heart response to her song.  Suffice it to say, it was wrong.  I was wrong.

So I watched that video today.  Watched Laura sing it.  I glued my little bottom to the couch and I set my heart before the Lord and I listened.  I'd heard the story before, of her husband's brain cancer.  At least pieces of it.  

But with a reminder of that story combined with my current life circumstances as the backdrop... this song wrecked my heart today.  In a very good way.  It was a "wrecking" that needed to happen.

And... the second after I clicked "play" on the video of this song, I glanced at the time: 1:02 pm.  And I realized... our profile is being shown right. now.  As we speak.  A birth mom will, in the next hour or two, be making a decision between our family and a few others as possible adoptive families for her baby girl.

Deciding that the timing of this was not coincidental, I leaned into the Lord.  And I mean, I leaned hard.  Trusting, trusting, trusting....surrendering more deeply.

When friends betray us

When darkness seems to win

We know that pain reminds this heart

That this is not, this is not our home

It's not our home

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops

What if Your healing comes through tears

And what if a thousand sleepless nights

Are what it takes to know You're near

What if my greatest disappointments

Or the achings of this life

Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy

And what if trials of this life

The rain, the storms, the hardest nights

Are Your mercies in disguise

(Laura Story - Blessings. This only the last half of the song.)

If my "greatest disappointments and the achings of this life" come in the form of loss, in the form of my family not looking the way I've dreamed it would, and possibly in the form of our family not being chosen for a baby yet again.... can I press in and trust Him?  Trust His heart toward me?  Trust that the trials of this life are His mercies in disguise?

I wept.  Sitting here on my couch, the tears finally came.  Over this miscarriage...and over all of it.  The babies that are now in Heaven... over "our" sweet girls who are no longer ours... the long wait for this adoption.

And it dawned on my heart all over again: "the rain, the storms, the hardest nights" - these are mercies in disguise because in it all, He invites us to know Him.  In it all, He is working for our good (Rom. 8:28)... and our greatest good is nothing but to know His heart and surrender to His love.

Someone once said that it's only here on Earth that we'll have these opportunities, these invitations, to know the Lord in the midst of suffering.  In Heaven, for eternity, we will know Him in joy and radiance and splendor and beauty and the absence of pain.  

But it's only here and now, only for this blink-of-an-eye life, that He gives us these opportunities, these invitations to encounter Him intimately in the midst of our pain.  Our grief.  Our losses.

I want to know Christ, sharing with Him in the fellowship of His suffering.

When I get to Heaven, I want to know Him like that.  

This is my chance to cultivate that kind of intimacy with Him.  Right now.  I want to respond to Him well while I can... while I'm here.  

Oh God....Your heart toward me is good - I believe it.  I do.  

Let me know You intimately here, now... in the midst of these mercies in disguise.

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~~~ 

PS.  Though I rarely intentionally invite comments these days, please know that your hearts and thoughts are always so very welcome here, friends.  And that YOU are always welcome here, comments or not.

PPS. I have just (tonight, Tuesday, 3/26) enabled Disqus on this site.  It'll upgrade the level of community happening around here by letting you know when I, or someone else, responds to a comment that you leave.  That said... it is taking a bit to sync with my blog... so to those of you who've left a comment here, please be assured - it'll come back!  All comments should reappear by tomorrow.  Along with my replies. :)  In the meantime - y'all are welcome to leave comments.  They should show up just fine.  Thanks, everyone. Really.  Y'all are so loved.

Resting: For When Your Dreams Fall To The Ground and Die

Linking up today with Lisa-Jo's community.  Join us?

5 Minutes of writing on one word.  No backtracking.  No editing.  Just whatever comes out of your heart.  It's super fun to see how just one word can draw out the things that you're already processing inside.  Give it a try if you haven't before.

Today's prompt: 

REST

Ready to roll in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

I'm so thankful today that God is good.  That He's faithful.  That His plans for my life are perfect, so much better than my own.

If I had my way, my life would look so very different than it does.  In particular, let me just say that I did NOT expect to be 32 and be a mom of just one.  One awesome, wild, sweet ALL-BOY kiddo who I dearly love and for whom I am incredibly thankful. 

If you'd asked me 5 years ago, I'd have guessed we'd have 3 or so by now... maybe even 4.  I'd have told you we planned to have 8-10 kids, between biological and adopted.

I'd have told you how we were passionate about parenting and adoption, how we believed they were a huge part of our calling. 

We still believe that.

And yet my life has not played out how I planned. 

And I'm just thankful today that His ways are higher, His thoughts aren't mine, that His heart toward me is GOOD, is LOVE, and that He KNOWS the plans He has for me.  Jeremiah 29:11.... "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."

Knowing His heart like this... TRUSTing His heart like this... is what allows me to rest in Him... even on the days when my dreams must fall into the ground and die.  John 12:24

So I choose that today... I choose to rest.  To trust.  Because He's worthy of it.

STOP.

How God Reminds Me Of His Heart In the Midst of Pain

Well... I've sat down to write this post 3 separate times now.  Haven't been able to figure out what, if anything, to say.  And it's definitely taken me some time and mega intentionality with the Lord in order to get to a place of decent perspective in this. 

The last several days have been... difficult, to say the least.  Stan and I, our marriage, our family? We're all fine.  Great, actually.  And we had a sweet time with Stan's parents and sis and bro-in-law and our cute niece and nephew who were in town over the weekend.

But some other events have occurred which have caught me completely off guard and have been incredibly painful and I think I've been kind of in shock... and I'm definitely nowhere NEAR able to share ANY of the specifics here in this space.  So I'm sorry in advance that this post feels really vague.

I've gone back and forth over whether to even post ANYthing related to this, to my heart in the midst of it.  But, the reality is that this situation is a current reality for me.  Ha... profound, eh?  And even though I can't share details, it IS what I'm walking through right now and these ARE the circumstances in which the Lord is currently meeting me and sustaining me and speaking to me.  And I do want to just share briefly some truths that God's reminding me of in the midst of all of this:

• "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty." (Verse 1 of Psalm 91.  You can read the entire Psalm here.  It is awesome.)  No matter WHAT my external circumstances look like, or feel like, God offers to me the refuge and rest that come from dwelling, abiding, in the shelter of the Most High.
• He is more than enough for me, and even in this, He extends to me grace for each moment, deep peace, and offers me an unshakable-ness that comes from being firmly rooted and grounded in Him, in His love for me and in my identity in Him.
• In all of the deep places of my heart, these places where I'm hurting and grieving, God's heart, His commitment to me, is to come into those places, to be new flesh to cover my raw wounds, to be the ultimate Healer of my heart.  
• God is zealous and fiercely committed to encountering me in intimacy in the midst of my grief and loss.  He will do this to the degree that I choose to sit before Him and wait on Him to bring His sweet comfort as opposed to running around searching for comfort in other places.  He uses a few other relationships for sure to bring a degree of healing and peace in the midst of pain, but these really deep, raw wounds in my heart, they can only be filled, covered, comforted, and healed by the Creator and "knower" of my inmost being.

This is the way it is.  This is what I know to be true about the heart of God, about His character that is absolutely unchanging, no matter how circumstances and relationships shift and change.  

And for these reasons, I can say with absolute confidence and honesty:  I am okay.  I really am.  I am hurting and grieving and pressing into the Lord in the midst of it, and He sustains... provides... comforts... heals.  He is more than enough...and will continue to be.

Just sayin'.

:)

Blessings to you, friends.  May God encounter you profoundly with the practical reality of these truths in the midst of your own difficult or painful circumstances.  In it all, He is after our hearts.  Our surrender.  Our trust.  Our leaning in.

Speaking of leaning... the other day I woke up and this  old hymn was in my head, totally out of the blue.  I hadn't thought of it in years.... but the Lord was definitely using these lyrics to speak to me and adjust my perspective in that moment.

1. What a fellowship, what a joy divine,
   Leaning on the everlasting arms;
   What a blessedness, what a peace is mine,
   Leaning on the everlasting arms.
   • Refrain:
     Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms;
     Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.
2. Oh, how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way,
   Leaning on the everlasting arms;
   Oh, how bright the path grows from day to day,
   Leaning on the everlasting arms.
3. What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
   Leaning on the everlasting arms?
   I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,
   Leaning on the everlasting arms.

Elisha A. Hoffman, pub.1887
ref. by Anthony J. Showalter,pub.1887

image credit: christianity.about.com

A Christmas Blessing [May You Know His Nearness and Sense His Pursuit of Your Heart]

The presents surround the tree.  Our woodwork is wound with greenery and ribbon and twinkling with sparkly lights.  It's 11 pm on Christmas Eve and my husband and I sit in our living room with only the tree and the twinkling greenery for light.  Instrumental Christmas music plays in the background.

Our son sleeps - having just turned 2 in September, he's still young enough that we don't think he'll be jumping on our bed at 5 am wanting to open gifts.  Next year... maybe. :)

We reflect on the past year.  The highs and lows.  The wins.  The losses.  [Oh, how 2012 has brought both... incredible victories and heart-wrenching losses too.]  And we reflect on God's faithfulness through it all.  How he's sustained.  Provided.  Kept our hearts close to His.

I reflect on His continual pursuit of our hearts woven throughout it all.  His obvious hand of kindness, how it's been all. over. our. lives.

He is good.  He gives and takes away... and He's worthy of our trust.  

And He's after our hearts in it all.

My dear friends...this Christmas, may you sense in a deeper way than ever before your Father's tangible nearness and His intimate, tender, unrelenting pursuit of your heart.

May you see it woven throughout history, in the prophecies of Christ's coming, in the new-born Babe in the manger, in the spotless Lamb of God who was crucified and rose again to conquer death...to pursue intimate relationship with us... to win our hearts.  Mine.  And yours.

May you deeply know how He has valued you, how He longs for intimate friendship with you.  Everything about Christmas is evidence of His extravagant pursuit.

May you... may we... have tender hearts this Christmas, responsive to His tender, pursuing love.

Merry Christmas, dear friends!

Whether you're a "real-life" friend, or one that I've met through this blog... I love having you in my life.  Be so blessed this Christmas.

Today, God, Tangibly Be Emmanuel...

A nation, a town, a school, and so many, many families... The shock and horror of yesterday's events in Newtown, CT are just beyond belief.

I sat in Costco eating pizza with Stan and Isaac and Stan read me the news off of his phone and I just had no grid for it.  No way to process it.  My jaw hung open and passers by must have thought me strange, not having heard the news yet.  I couldn't cope with what had happened.  The terror.  The fear.  The trauma.  The horrific, profound LOSS.  The precious lives.  The children.  Their parents.  Their siblings and friends.  Oh, God....

I have no mental box or spiritual folder in which to file this away.  No way to make it make sense.  No way to answer all of the "WHY, GOD?!?!"s that swirl around in my mind... in my heart.

AND YET....

He is good.  He is unchanging.  He is absolutely committed to those precious children, those families.

So here I sit, with no way right now to reconcile what I know of His heart, His character, with this horrible.... I don't even know what to call it.  Loss is not a strong enough word.  Not even close.

And this is all I can pray...

Wonderful Counselor... counsel every heart.  Give wisdom to those who must counsel the children even as they cope with their own profound loss.  Intimately be Counselor to all who need You in this moment...in the days ahead.

Comforter... You promise that those who mourn are blessed, for they'll receive comfort... Bless them now.  Creator God, who intimately, deeply knows every need of every heart, comfort those hearts today.  May they deeply, unmistakably encounter the God of Comfort.

Prince of Peace... You are capable of bringing peace into even the most horrific circumstances.  Do this now, Father.  Be who You are in all of this.  Make Yourself known as the only Source of perfect peace.  Peace that passes understanding.  


Emmanuel, God With Us... be Emmanuel to those families affected today.  Even now... Tangibly...be Emmanuel to them.  Closer than all of the fear.  Closer than the pain.  Envelop their hearts in Your nearness.  Your "with-us-ness."

These are things we celebrate about who You are, God, in this Christmas season.  Would you make Yourself intimately, tenderly, powerfully REAL in these ways to every heart affected...even today.  Even now.

Father, You are more than enough.  Even in this.  Somehow.  Reveal Yourself, God.  Be glorified.

The Dismantling of Our Lives (A Window Into Raw, Unfinished Beauty)

The sink was piled high with dinner dishes.  The table still had crumbs on it and the dining room floor needed to be swept.  It didn't matter. 

Their hearts were so much more important.

Stan and I sat in our living room chatting and laughing with our dear friends who've been living and working on the other side of the planet for the last year and a half... and who will have to return there right after Christmas.  Our one time together as couples and we don't actually know for sure when we'll see them again.  

The seconds were precious.

The conversation meandered from ministry to life in the country that is currently their home to community and life as a part of the Body of Christ.

And then it happened.  It was the greatest gift they could possibly have given us.

Our friends opened their hearts...and poured them out.  About how it's been hard this last year and a half and how they can't understand what God is doing and how life has just. been. so. painful.

As my friend spoke, I listened intently, everything inside of me keenly tuned into the fact that this was a sacred moment.  A holy encounter.

She stopped talking.  We sat in silence and the seconds ticked by.  

I wanted to speak, to let her know that her heart had been heard, understood, that her story and her heart were being held with grace.  But the words wouldn't come.  I was too much in awe of the gift she'd just given.

It's so sacred - God's dismantling of our lives, of all that's familiar, and the secret ways He works in the deep places of our hearts, miles below the surface... how He fashions and molds and shapes our hearts, and how He's so committed to having His way in our depths, to conforming us more to the image of Christ and to intimately revealing His heart to ours and walking right beside us through it all.  

And how all of this is happening in our secret places, deep inside us, even, and especially, when everything around us and everything inside us are so dark that we can't see His hand.  

He's carving raw beauty in the darkness.  In the pain.  So sacred, His processes inside of us.

So the seconds ticked by and finally my friend whispered, fighting tears and staring down at her lap, "Sorry..." and I squeaked out something about "please don't apologize - this is the real stuff..." and my feeble words in that moment just could not come close to doing justice to all that was burning in my heart.

She had given us the gift of beauty.  Exposed the raw, unfinished, painful, gut-wrenchingly glorious process.  All of the unanswered questions and all of the aching and the not understanding and the pulling out of props and the gentle, tender breaking down of the human soul until all that remains is just that heart, and its Creator... and where do we go from here?  

And she shared it all with us.  They both did.

They apologized for complaining and we tried to explain how this was the furthest thing in the world from that.  This is the reality of life and even though they can't see it in this season, we can see the hand of God and their raw honesty was the gift that made the way for us to see the beauty He's forming in them....

So sacred.  So holy.  So beautiful.  So profound and precious.

More time ticked by.  It was nearly midnight and I'd bet you that not a one of us was thinking about going to bed.  I know I wasn't.

We prayed with them and again my words seemed to fall flat.  I couldn't even begin to express how deeply my heart was affected by their vulnerability and the beauty of God's hand woven throughout their story, in all of its not-yet-completeness.

But I know that God will continue and complete the work He has started in these precious hearts.  And I am so crazy, ridiculously privileged to be able to stand here on these sidelines and cheer them on and behold and wonder at the perfect working of God in the lives of our sweet friends.

What an incredible gift.  I feel so challenged - challenged to more often allow those God's placed in my community a window into all of the rawness and beauty of His processes in my own heart and life...

And challenged to continue to intentionally seek to grow in my ability to steward well the hearts of those I love... 

To learn to hold the stories and hearts with which I'm entrusted with compassion and grace... to be one who sighs with and cries with and rejoices with others and doesn't try to fix... 

But one who, with just a few words of grace and compassion and truth, can toss into place a handful of stones that God will use to begin to form a bridge from the hurting human heart back to the tender heart of its Creator.

This is who I want to be.  I don't know what else to say today.  I just couldn't NOT write out all of these things that have been rolling around in my heart.  

Thanks so much for reading today, friends.  Praying that God will encourage you here.