Worthy of it All
So why is He worthy of our all our lives?
It is written over and over in every page of who God is. The aspects that make Him larger than life are held simultaneously with the aspects of His intimate presence in our current lives. This is why He is Worthy of it all.
This is why no matter what is given, what is taken, what is restored, what is broken.
He will always be Worthy of our whole heart.
And from where I am in my relationship with Him today, the gaze in which I can see Him. I can truly say I never felt more seen, more understood, more secure than by the God I call both majestic and a good shepherd.
A Weary World Rejoices
It’s the first day of Advent and my heart feels weary.
The simple joys of the Christmas season feel heavy in the midst of grief. What used to be my favorite time of year now has undercurrents of dread. The cards, carols, and family gatherings are all little reminders of what was and what can no longer be.
To an outsider, Christmas in my home might not look very different from years past. We set up the same nativity scene and hung the same stockings. Tomorrow we will build the same artificial tree that has dropped its needles on the same rug for years. We will wrap it with the very same strands of gold and silver tinsel that we have used for nearly a decade.
However, for us on the inside, every part of Christmas feels different. It is no longer my husband who carefully arranges the nativity each year - that tradition has been passed on to our son. And while Greg’s stocking still hangs above our sofa, it will remain empty on Christmas morning. This is our second year of decorating without him and our third of celebrating Christmas without him. He died just 6 days - and 60 years - too soon.
My home may look festive after an evening of decorating but my heart is weary.
Dry & Weary Land
Has grief and the loss of your husband drawn you into a dry and desolate place? Are you aching to be refreshed again and to have the joy you once had, walking in the land of the living? Are you parched and feel like you are a moment away from withering? Look to Christ, my sweet sister. Look to Him in His healing Word and find rest for your soul. Scripture tells us that it revives the soul, makes wise the simple, rejoices the heart, and enlightens the eyes (Psalm 19:7-8). When we look to Him in His Word, He makes us radiant (Psalm 34:5) and changes our countenance from one of sorrow to pure joy (Proverbs 15:13).
I AM Better
Vulnerable post ahead.
“Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures forever.” Psalm 136:1 I’m going to be honest. Verses like this one can be hard to swallow after death strikes your family. And even harder to swallow during the holidays when feeling thankful and joyful is supposed to be the norm. What do you do when nothing feels “normal” anymore?
“I Will Be.”
There are many layers to what we may feel during the holiday season. With celebration of abundance, harvest, and blessing; what if it feels like our barren places are exposed? What if it's here we recognize fear? We realize somewhere deep in us we are believing that we don’t have enough. What if what we do have; no matter how good it may be, doesn’t feel like enough? The enemy’s lies are subtle: I don’t have enough, I am not enough, or I am less than. What do we do when these thoughts begin to surface?
Good Gifts
I often think of surrender in terms of accepting the hard things that God has written into our story. There are good gifts that God has allowed to be taken from us: my precious husband and my son’s loving father; the holiday traditions that were built as a family of three that no longer fit us as a family of two; the empty spot at the Thanksgiving table. It is a struggle to surrender to the hard things, but I’ve realized recently that I struggle to surrender to the good things too.
Worth It
The last night of our eighth Crowned Retreat, I walked down the boardwalk to turn the lights off on the dock. The sky was sparkling with stars and the moon was bright. For just a moment, my life flashed back in time. More than two years ago I was sitting on the bay under a similarly brilliant sky with my boss. I was letting go that night. I was answering a clear call to make space for ministry; however, I had no idea what it would look like. It was risky, it was hard, and it hurt.