Tag: Growth

On Renovations and Faith

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I’ve been wanting to turn this into a blog post for several days, but I’ve been too busy to get my swirling thoughts typed here.

However, as I spun my cake decorators’ turntable this afternoon, and angled my tools to create the desired look, I had time to think and reflect… now the cakes are done so I can exhale, relax, and write what’s been on my heart.

Last weekend was 6 months since I first walked into the church that now feels like home… barely knowing anyone, and completely terrified, but somehow convinced this was the right thing to do.

You know, I had no idea then just how much good would come from asking God for the courage to step out in faith.

I reflected on that last week, and praised God for His faithfulness in guiding me, but didn’t really have a blog post in mind.

Until Friday evening, when my youth group and a few of our church people were … well, quite literally, tearing apart the church basement.

There are some renovations needed, and as plans were made, the list grew.

So, on the last day of school, teachers and students emptied the classrooms completely, in preparation for the work bee that evening. By midnight, all the shelves were gone, trim had disappeared, insulation was removed, some sections of wall were only bare frames, lights were being rewired, and old drywall was removed. Not to mention the endless sweeping, and all the plastic we girls taped up to protect surfaces from the spray painting that will be done.

It really wasn’t recognizable as the school that it had been that morning, and I asked one student who had come with his dad for the evening, “Can you believe the last day of school was in here today?”

His answer was profound, as children so often are without realizing it.

“Well, it feels strange. I thought it would be exciting to tear our classrooms apart, and it is, but…”

“But it’s sad to tear up the place where go many good memories were just made?” I asked.

“Well, kind of, yeah… and it’s so empty. It doesn’t even feel like our school, and it’s just so odd!”

I assured him that by September, they’ll be ready to have lots of good times in a classroom that will feel “new” after all the renovations are complete.

His eyes sparkled with anticipation at that thought and he said, “that’s right! I can’t wait! I hope it’ll look really nice.”

Then, more pensive, he added, “At least, I think it will… it’s hard to imagine right now though while it’s such a mess.”

I reminded him of the things that will be improved and redone, and his enthusiasm returned. “Yeah! I think it’ll look real nice when it’s all done,” and he hurried off to see what else he could do. Destroying classrooms is an adventure, after all!

And I, sweeping up the constant piles of dust and debris, thought about our conversation.

6 months ago, I knew my life didn’t totally fit me… but it was all I knew. It was familiar and comfortable.

Yet I couldn’t stay there. I needed to move on, and I knew it was time. But I couldn’t reach for the new without stepping out of the old.

You know, I was incredibly afraid of walking into a new church and hoping to find it home.

It felt like I was laying down so much – risking relationships with all the people I’d known and love, for relationships I didn’t know if I’d ever build.

But God proved faithful to work it all out for me, and I’ve been able to make many beautiful new friendships as well as keep the familiar old ones.

And, the layout of my life is different.

It doesn’t look like the life I was so familiar with and afraid to leave behind a few months ago. But some things from before are still in their places, and everything is brighter and nicer than ever.

Sometimes, adding to your life means giving every part to God first, so He can remove what’s not needed and return what is still valuable to its place in your life.

By letting God empty you out, you allow Him to work and reconstruct you according to His perfect blueprint.

So, to the one reading this: this is my encouragement for you. If your life feels torn apart, upside down, or totally empty right now, and you wish for the familiar sights of before… keep trusting the Master Architect.

The renovating process takes faith in the end result, patience, and a lot of trust that things are going to end up better, even while they’re visibly being torn apart.

But remind yourself of this truth: God will not ask you to lay something down without putting something more beautiful in its place.

So trust Him, doubting heart.

By what He has done in my life, and for countless others out of unknown circumstances, I truly can say that His renovations are never without a purpose.

And I think your life will look real nice when He’s all done.

A Day in the Life…

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Have I mentioned lately that I love teaching?

Sometimes I forget that I do.

It’s easy to get into the routine, get used to the chaos, and start to take the familiarity of school life for granted.

But once in awhile, I remember to sit back and look at my day as though I’m a new teacher again, and I’m amazed at all the things that happen in a day.

When they hired me nearly five years to be a teacher, I naively expected I would study academic matters and find avenues to pass on that knowledge to children. Which I do, every day.

But this is Wednesday morning, and much has already happened beyond academics.

Before the 9:00 bell rang, the peace at my desk was disturbed by the sound of running feet past my door. Several pairs of running feet. I hoped none of my students would do that…? Maybe someone was visiting school with little children?

A moment later, the sound started back my direction. And unfortunately, when I looked toward the door, three very familiar looking coats ran by. I knew those coats… because I spend recess with those coats every day. The wearers of those coats were running, and the wearers of those coats happen to be… my students.

And just like last week on hot lunch day, I thought of my favourite quote for moments like these:

“As soon as you say “My child would never!” Here they come nevering like they never nevered before.”

(Last week there was jello served for hot lunch, which is always a favourite. Some children really like jello, that’s all. And I felt a little more Mom than Teacher as I gave a short spiel about respect, and self-control, and common sense, all in regards to the regulating of jello consumption.)

Thankfully the running incident was corrected with little drama – they’re a respectful, sweet bunch of children. It just so happened that they were playing tag and the game accidently moved into the building. They seemed to think it made perfect sense. And I remember in awe – children think differently.

Teachers correct, encourage, guide, and apparently, give neck massages during recess to the little girl who says she can’t turn her head. You never know what you’ll hear when you answer a raised hand in class, and I’m used to the random moments. However, it’s not every day I hear, “Could you please give me a shoulder massage? It hurts.”

That’s not the most astounding thing I heard this week.

Yesterday, they were discussing CPR at lunch. (Seeing that in type makes me realize – that’s not a typical meal conversation. Unless you’re nine, apparently.)

Through the conversation, a few comments stood out to me:

“Wait, you can die and come back to life? Like, you’d actually see Jesus and heaven but still come back?”

“Oh yeah, that happens to some people.”

“Well, they just are unconcious. Like, they almost die.”

“Wow! I didn’t know that can happen!”

At this point, from his reclined position, around a mouthful of cheetos, a student inserts “I saw Jesus once.”

Instant silence. Most of the students look shocked.

But the girl next to Mr. Cheetos calmly replies, “Really? That’s cool. Did you die once or what?”

Everyone starts panicking that their classmate might’ve had a near death experience that they never heard about.

Miss Calm reminds them that it doesn’t matter, he’s alive and well now. (and casually munching his lunch while everyone else freaks out.)

Apparently he decided there had been enough chaos and paused to say, “Like, it wasn’t the real Jesus that I saw. I saw a picture of Him. It might not even be how He looks, I don’t know. But – I kinda saw Him.”

Once again, I internally shake my head and wonder how kids minds function so differently than adults. It’s something I find fascinating every day; I feel so blessed to have such a front seat view of the antics of God’s small people.

I totally know why Jesus told His followers to become as little children.

When you look past the mischief, the random questions, the seeming lack of common sense – you realize they’re beautifully inquisitive.

They want to learn everything about their world.

They aren’t bound by the restrictions of peer pressure and maintaining an image.

They’re honest. (This is not always entirely a good thing, however they are without question, honest.)

They’re willing to explore, investigate, and learn.

They take risks.

They’re quite fearless, which may or may not cause my blood pressure to spike depending what they attempt. (Class, I do not want to try explaining this to your parents if someone gets hurt while you attempt this…)

But with all these traits, they are fluid, moldable, teachable.

Which is exactly what we need to be for God to work His purposes through us.

Humble enough to be willing to learn so that He can mold us into servants, equipped to serve in His kingdom.

Sifting

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I’m feeling totally relaxed at the end of a blissfully calm day…

I spent a cozy Sunday at home, with a fuzzy blanket, coffee, a nice soak in the tub (yes, with lavendar scented bubbles…)

I didn’t read much… I didn’t write at all, until now…

I sat, and I thought… reflective thoughts, just whatever floated to the surface of my mind thoughts…

and I realized, I was sifting memories.

The car crash that totalled my Belinda car and caused the whiplash that kept me at home today may have been timed according to Divine will.

In fact, I’m convinced it was.

I needed this weekend to be still, to sift through things properly, and God knows my active personality won’t slow down unless forced 🙂

So, forced as I was, I had only my thoughts for company, and all the time to sift them well instead of just ignoring them.

I recently taught my students about the Klondike gold rush, and the method that prospectors used to pan for gold (scooping dirt into a special pan, pouring water through, rinsing out the dirt and stones and leaving only the gold).

I realized today, that that’s exactly how I need to treat memories.

Some memories are painful, or ugly, and it’s so easy to just dump them out. To refuse them a place in your story.

Other memories are beautiful. They’re priceless, and we focus on them.

But when both are woven together, how do we remember the beautiful times without letting the negative parts darken them? How do we avoid losing the beauty buried beneath the hurt-filled stories we throw out?

And the answer I came to… we sift.

Some chapters can only be sifted by letting tears flow over the memories. Somehow, in that process, the hurt is washed away… it slowly fades… and we can smile through the tears at the good that was present in those times.

They might be tremulous smiles, but more beautiful than those who’ve never known pain.

They are the smiles of a survivor. A fighter. Someone who dared to face their story in completeness, and sifted until they found something worth smiling about.

You know, good things can become lost when they get buried in layers of ugliness.

It’s tedious work to dig through it all and unearth the gold…

It would be so much easier to throw it all out and refuse to think about it.

In sifting parts of my life, I realized I’ve done that – I’ve remembered the bad and lost sight of the good.

How can I “grow through what I go through” if the miracles, the lessons, the blessings, and all the beauty in the journey is lost?

The times when God is most precious, most real, have been in my darkest hours. If I refuse those memories a place in my story, how will I keep the faith-building moments sprinkled throughout?

But if I can wash away the layers of hurt, confusion, anger, or whatever else you might have piled up… sift through them and bathe them in tears… and let them go:

Then all I’ll be holding is the gold.

And everything will be beautiful.

Only the good remains.

The Path of Progress

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“God opens doors… and He closes them.”

She gave me such a simple answer to the many complex things life holds – but so relevant, and so true.

“And when God closes doors… He also opens doors.”

I’ve thought on this mystery a lot, how endings are not the end, but rather, they are a vital crux to beginning… the rest of your whole, yet-to-be discovered, life!

I’ve gotten to experience so many new things, because of doors that have been closed.

Much of what I value today I wouldn’t have in my life if I hadn’t gathered it along this winding way… a way that keeps leading me into new places, because I’ve first exited others.

There are people I love today who I met only because I walked through unlikely or even unwanted places. The open door to meeting them was caused by other doors closing.

I carry beautiful memories of chapters that were only meant to last for a season, but forever remain part of my story. Just because doors close doesn’t mean we pretend we weren’t ever in those places.

Who I am, in my very heart of hearts, is not the same person as I was a year ago, still more changed from the me of 2 years ago, and quite different from the version that existed 5 years ago!

And I’m learning to lean into this constant change – not to resist it, but to rest in it, because after the fact, I do always like the improvements God has made to who I am.

I know that 5 years from now, I’ll probably see the areas I was lacking in today. Things I think I’m doing well today, I’ll be thankful I have learned to do so much better. (Just a hunch, going by my opinion of my first year of teaching… I knew I was inexperienced, yes, but now I see much more clearly how much of a novice I really was!)

But that’s ok with me – I’m comfortable with finding delight in my progress up to this point, even though I know I’m a work that’s not yet reached completion.

As I navigate all the checkpoints on my path of progress through life, I don’t look back and call former places worthless just because I’m not there anymore.

No, every closed door symbolizes a valuable part of a journey!

… sometimes, it’s vital to walk through the death – an ending – of a chapter so that a resurrection – new life – can be added to the story.

But endings aren’t always erasers. We let go, we move forward, we live today – but endings are not like a death in that we need to bury that chapter.

We get to choose what we hold on to – no present-day circumstance can erase the things that once made us smile.

We can also choose to let go of memories that keep us trapped in pain – because a closed door is an invitation, giving us freedom to move on. (It doesn’t always feel as good as that sounds, but it is truth!)

As I move forward in life, it’s my personal goal to always carry only the good with me, but leave the things that weigh me down.

When new doors open, we can’t step through them if we’re holding on to baggage from yesterday too tightly… but we can always retain the beauty it gave us, and our lives become continually richer and fuller if we travel this way.

“When God closes doors, He opens doors, and when the doors open, He will lead you through them.”

God never takes away without also giving abundantly, if we turn to Him for healing and restoration.

Psalm 90:15 says, “Give us gladness in proportion to our former misery.” (NLT)

What an exciting concept to lean on! When we feel the pain of closed doors, we can look forward to an equal proportion of joy at the opening of another door!

“Tell your heart to beat again, close your eyes and breathe it in… Let the shadows fall away, step into the light of grace. Yesterday’s a closing door, you don’t live there anymore… say goodbye to where you’ve been, and tell your heart to beat again!” ~Tell Your Heart To Beat Again, Danny Gokey

“What are you bringing with you?”

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After a weekend away, I answered the typical questions at the Canada/US border before crossing back into my home country.

Those questions are familiar to me; I’ve been across that border many times in my life.

But this time, it was different. I was travelling with just me and Jesus, and after a weekend that will forever be a milestone in my life story, two of his questions seemed to mean so much more.

“What are you bringing back into the country with you?” “What is the value of those goods?”

(He also had the audacity to ask, “What’s all that in the backseat?” After I so carefully piled three quarters of my shopping spree into the trunk to organize my car… and he still thought it looked like a lot!?)

Back to those two questions though – after I drove away from the border, I reflected on how I could have answered in such a different way.

What did I bring back? Rekindled hope. Restored joy. New friendship. A heart that is ready to beat strong again. Healing. Greater trust and love for Jesus.

What is the value of those things?

I didn’t pay for any of them… they are worth too much to purchase.

They were all gifts from the hand of my Father!

Then there are all the things I didn’t bring back with me… the things I dumped off in various cafes, small towns, and along the interstate. Shame, pain, confusion, doubt, hopelessness, anxiety.

Travelling with Jesus did so much more for my heart than I ever imagined it would when I planned it!

Don’t worry, I didn’t reply with any of that. The official at the border would have been quite surprised if I had answered that way, as that was, of course, not what he meant. I told him approximately how much I spent on home decor, like I was expected to. But the thought still made me smile as I drove…

I hope that as I go forward, I’ll remember this moment and often ask myself, “What are you bringing with you?”

What am I carrying along that isn’t meant to weigh me down?

What am I picking up as I travel?

Am I walking in places where I gather things that help me thrive, or am I staying stuck in places that don’t allow me to grow in Christ as He desires me to?

As I travel through each day, each place I go, every experience I have… and I return home at the end of each day, one day closer to my journey’s completion… what am I bringing back with me?

What are you bringing back with you?

Riding Today’s Wave

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Ah, relaxation.

Late afternoon sunlight streams in the large windows of the community center lounge, a neat stack of graded Bible quizzes lies on the table in front of me, and I still have 20 minutes to just sit here.

Scrolling on my phone, I came across this quote someone posted:

“Healing comes in waves. Today the wave might hit the rocks, but you’re still healing.”

A smile played on my lips as the words washed over my heart – that quote is the best description I’ve heard for those days when all the progress I’ve made seems shattered.

But I feel this precious joy swelling in my chest, because today, that wave is flowing smoothly back out.

Away from the painful crashing into the rocks, into a vast expanse of possibilities.

I never imagined, one year ago, where I’d be today or all that I’d walk through to get here.

I also don’t know where I’ll be in one short year from now, but I’m so grateful to be able to say, I’m excited about the future.

I’m ready… to step forward.

I don’t know which of the opportunities ahead of me I’ll actually pursue, but it’s thrilling to see God’s hand working in my life, healing my heart, and filling me with the capacity to dream again.

The sunlight is fading lower in the sky, but I feel a new day dawning in my life as I enjoy the ride of today’s wave, away from the confining shallows along the shore.

It’s time to travel farther out to sea… deeper into this adventure called life, sailing with greater abandon toward everything God has for me.

It’s a divine risk, giving my life completely into the hands of One Who can lead me in paths beyond my wildest imagination, but I know that His way always includes enough of His strength, grace, and courage for every part of the journey.

So I choose, once again, to say, “Jesus, I trust You. Please, lead me forward in the fullness of Your abundant living.”

Today’s wave rides toward potential joy; tomorrow the ride might carry me back in to be broken on the rocks again. I’m slowly understanding that we must be broken repeatedly so that Jesus within us can continue to pour out of our cracked and bleeding vessels…

But through it all, I know each of these waves are part of the process Jesus is taking me through, and none of it goes unnoticed by Him.

Right now, this moment, Miss Ginger Curls is nearly finished her class and will be demanding me to make good on the promised trip to the park.

My arms are still tired from her fight-mode reaction earlier and the drama of getting into the elevator (with four compassionate but amused onlookers, yes) but my heart loves her more than ever.

How is it that this unlikely rule is manifesting in so many areas of my life… that the bad times ignite multiplied goodness?

Only God Alone can work in this incredible way!

Likewise, even though my heart is bruised anew each time I’m washed up on the rocks, I ride the waves with increased confidence and joy… because I know they ultimately lead in the direction I want to go.

“Healing comes in waves…” and progress is made not by fighting them, but by surrendering to their direction of flow and riding each one to its fullest extent.

So no matter what tries to drag me down, I know one thing for certain: I can always press onward and upward if I keep my eyes fixed on Jesus.

That’s all that’s required of me every moment, simply to focus on Him and let everything else fade…

“Father God, just for today… Help me to walk Your narrow way. Help me stand when I might fall, give me the strength to do Your call… May my steps be worship, may my thoughts be praise, may my words bring honour to Your Name…”

and here comes my favourite feisty bundle of fragile brokenness. Time to stop writing and pour my joy over into her little life!

The Deeper, Hidden Meaning of Sufganiyot

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First of all, a disclaimer: This post holds a high potential to make my writing instructor cringe.

It will not be edited, as the hour is late – more on the reason for that later – and I am currently halfway through a 4 day teachers’ conference.

(Think overload in all categories – socially, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally… even physically, if you drag yourself away from those wonderfully conversational strangers to engage in a few games of volleyball. Enough said.)

This exhausted human, now home in solitude, is apparently unable to break away from the endless flow of words I’ve been alternately drowning and delighting in.

Instead of listening to a talented speaker who has prepared an organized topic, I’m now the one needing to release words. Random words. 1:00 am words. Words that capture the essence of various, disconnected aspects of teachers’ week. And you, brave soul who has made it this far, are the recipient of it all.

So, here goes… I warned you!

Breakfast with strangers is a pleasantly awkward way to begin an event. Today (the second day) was slightly noisier than yesterday, however I am still grateful that no crunchy foods are on the breakfast menu. Yogourt and fresh berries are as silent as the people waking up at my table.

Singing from my heart with an auditorium full of humans who have now had their morning coffee is definitely awesome. I love looking across the group and seeing the beautiful diversity in God’s family… how we all share a common passion for Christian education, yet so many different walks of life are represented. It’s like a glimpse of the Bride of Christ to me – His kingdom is not limited to one people group or way of living out the Bible!

By mid-morning, my arm is tired from writing. Possibly I overdo note-taking… but when you place a pen in a teacher’s hand… especially if it has nice ink, well – it’s inevitable. The pages will be filled.

Lunch arrives. We’re all abuzz about our personality types, and specifically how to deal with personality clashes with students. How much do we unconciously frustrate our students, simply by being us? How can we as educators intentionally embrace the unique characteristics of each God-designed child in our class? Eventually, our plates are empty, and it’s time for some volleyball.

You can’t solve every school problem during teacher’s week, so when ideas have been sufficiently shared… postpone the issue. It won’t take care of itself; it will remain for further discussion… but those courts look inviting and the game is happening now.

After an afternoon of more instruction on teaching, my mind is wearily whirling. I should feel brilliantly equipped and inspired to teach – but I really feel like I just need my bed.

So I joined another conversation. Stayed there for a lengthy time, transitioned to someone’s backyard to continue socializing around a campfire…

Someone asked what our goals are for the coming year, since we’re receiving this training. My response? “I had specific goals, before this. Now they’re crushed under the weight of awareness that I have so much to improve in!” (I know myself, though. Those goals will revive with more passion than ever after this week.)

After many more random topics had been covered, and my mind journeyed in several more abstract directions, my car and I journeyed home. To solitude, quietness, and bed.

Instead of feeling sleepy though, my brain started regurgitating every piece of information that’s been thrown at me. Not in a cohesive manner, mind you.

And this is where this post’s title finally enters the picture. (I apologize. It’s terrible to delay this long. Possibly it’s only sheer curiosity that has kept you until now… and if you’re skimming, I understand.)

So I got home, with all these thoughts spinning, and as I’m wondering how I will ever retain all of this, I heard one thing replaying distinctly. The speaker’s voice rang confidently in my memory, I could see the earnestness on his face as he declared, “Sufganiyot.”

Then the crowd’s tentative response, according to the direction given in how to pronounce the word. “Sufganiyot.”

And my very overwhelmed mind, replaying this moment, could not remember the meaning of the word!!! This Hebrew word, taught by a couple who spent several years living in Jewish culture, must have some deep spiritual meaning attached to it that I must not forget!

I was desparate. My binder is at school, so I can’t access my notes until tomorrow. Would google really embody all that the word meant to me? I couldn’t even remember in what way it resonated in my heart, but it must have if my mind was so clearly recalling it?!

But then, suddenly, it came to me. The speaker saying, “Sufganiyout is the Hebrew word for donut.“

Yes. That’s correct. It means donut. And I had it in the same category as words like shalom or gelassenheit…

Sometimes things aren’t as deep as we make them.

But for me, personally, the deeper and hidden meaning of sufganiyot will always be this week. These moments.

And sure, a donut.

Turning the Page

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First of all: It’s true that I get this restless feeling every summer, when the teacher in me is dormant and my classroom is silent. I wonder why life feels stagnant and what God might be doing in my life next.

But this year, it’s different. I’m not feeling restless and empty…

God is filling my heart with something new. It’s exciting. It gives me a sense of purpose. (And I feel like I’m on the edge of a diving board, about to plunge into a future unknown…)

But sometimes, you just know. You sense that God is turning a page, writing a new chapter into your story.

I signed up as a volunteer to support families in crisis in my local city – originally for a summer job, and a way to keep my life centered around children during the months that I’m not teaching.

This past week, as I drove to an unfamiliar neighborhood to pick up a child, it hit me – this is the realization of a dream I’ve carried for years. Not in the exact form I pictured through my teens, but it’s definitely the beginning of living out what my heart has wanted to do for so long.

Yes, teaching school is a huge part of my life, and something I’m extremely passionate about. But in the years I’ve taught, the desire has been growing in my heart to specifically work with underprivileged children. To mentor them, love them, and teach them about Jesus.

I’m so grateful for the opportunity of teaching at a Christian school, where I can relax when I dismiss my students because I know that they’re going home to loving, godly parents.

For the last four years, that has been my sole passion and purpose, and I’ve found it incredibly fulfilling to work alongside Christian parents in loving and guiding their precious children.

But now, God has opened a door in my life to care for children who don’t have the abundant blessings that my students do.

These children crave love and security from me far more than my students do, because their lives don’t have the stability that my students’ lives have.

It’s new territory, but it’s exciting to this heart that has held this dream dormant so long, but never lost the passion for it…

It’s time to turn a page in my story, to move forward in faith, and step out into the next chapter of lif

God’s timing amazes me. I spent years wondering when, and how, and if I’ll ever find the right opportunity… and if God even wanted me to fill that kind of role, if so much time was going by…

But He knew I needed the experiences I’ve had to prepare me. To strip me of self, of false expectations of God, of prejudices in my heart… and to equip me to more accurately represent Jesus’ love to the lives I touch. (This is a lifelong challenge, to become stripped of self and equipped for service! Definitely not complete yet!)

God also knew I needed more time focused solely on teaching before I could take on another responsibility. He knew that when teaching has become a comfortable routine, like my morning coffee, I’d have more mental space for other things.

So, here I am. Stepping into a new, unknown chapter of life, on the brink of a dream that could lead to so much more…

Ready to give my life to investing in children who might not otherwise have a chance, as my role of service to my King.

Only God knows how much of my time will be spent doing this, or how long this chapter will last. Only He knows at this point where I’ll go from here.

But step by step He’s led me to this place, where the dream I carried along the way has finally become a call to answer.

And I know that whatever He leads me through from here, every winding path is somehow preparing me for the place He’ll lead me to next.

Lead Me to the Rock

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“When my heart is overwhelmed, lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.” Psalm 61:2

This verse holds so much meaning that I never noticed until recently, and it’s packed into those two words lead me.

I’ve read this verse at various times in life when my heart was struggling, and I’ve always known and believed that the place to turn then is to God, my Rock.

But what about those times when my heart is truly overwhelmed?

Life holds disappointments, tragedies, heartbreaks… dear hearts, you can probably fill in the blank with your own pain. We’ve all had something to endure.

Then while we’re still fighting not to go under the waves, another, greater blow comes. Something that cuts us to our very core, and suddenly our exhausted store of strength can’t keep on.

It’s in those times that we learn the meaning of overwhelmed to its full definition, and no, that knowledge isn’t pleasant to gain.

But in that place of being overwhelmed – that’s where I found myself wondering for the first time if I had the strength to go to the Rock. Or if I even wanted to.

For those of you who have been in this place, you know. You know that it can be really tough, wrestling with doubt and asking questions in your heart that you know “no good Christian should ever ask.”

It’s especially tough when you don’t tell anyone, because you’re afraid of being judged. You feel guilty and ashamed for asking things like,

“How could a loving God…?“

“What’s the point of praying, if He doesn’t intervene?“

“Is God not the type of God I thought He is?”

“Why doesn’t God show up in my story?”

“How can God say this is for my good?”

There are so many more questions people may have, I’m sure.

But no matter what we’re going through, when our hearts are overwhelmed, we get shaken. We doubt things we never dreamed of questioning.

That’s why I’m so grateful to God for showing up in Christian family, friends, and mentors, to speak truth to my doubting heart in those times, and lead me to the Rock.

You see, Psalm 61:2 doesn’t read, “When my heart is overwhelmed, I will go to the Rock that is higher than I.”

It doesn’t say, “then I turn to the Rock that is higher than I.”

The Psalmist wrote, “lead me to the Rock.”

This isn’t an action that the one who is overwhelmed will take, this is a request, a plea for support! Because an overwhelmed heart needs the Rock most desparately of all, yet doesn’t have the strength or maybe not even the will to pursue it.

So when I’m struggling to reconcile what I know is truth, with the brokenness I see in this world, it’s okay. It’s okay to be tired after fighting through a long hard season, and it’s okay to let others lead me to my Rock.

The key is going to God and staying close to Him, it doesn’t matter as much whether we go there on our own or leaning on others. What’s crucial is that we’re willing to go to the Rock.

If you’re ever in an overwhelming place, I sincerely hope you have the courage to ask those around you to stand up when you’re down. Some people are judgemental of struggling doubters, and I pray you’ll have wisdom to discern them from those who truly have a heart full of Jesus’ compassion. These are the people who, like Jesus, will be gentle and loving. Let them lead you to the Rock, and speak the truth to your doubting heart until you again can say with firm conviction,

“My Rock IS higher than I!”

I pray you’ll have those people in your life. I pray you’ll have the courage to ask them, and the humility to be led to the Rock. I pray that I may become a person to lead others to the Rock in their seasons of doubt. I especially pray in gratitude and ask a special blessing on those who have stepped in to lead me.

May our Rock sustain us, and may He prove His truth, goodness, and sovereignty to all of us who cry, “lead me to the Rock!”

Answered Prayers

Published on by JackieLeave a comment

In the last year of my life, there have been so many questions. So many prayers. So many heartcries…

And now, it’s becoming clear that even where I could not see them, there have been So. Many. Answers.

Sometimes, God answers prayer in a far greater way than I ever imagined when I made the request.

A deeper way… a way that feels like He hasn’t heard… like He’s forgotten me, while in reality…

He is working all things together for the greater good.

Because every piece of the story, though they appear so random to me, is connected in the big picture that only God can see. He is weaving each individual thread into one masterpiece.

Lately, that has been made so clear as I examine the the why of suffering.

What if… there’s a purpose for all of it?

What if… this is part of the journey to a beautiful place?

Instead of asking, “Why?” in a tone of anguished defeat, I’m beginning to see all the possibilities in this and ask, “What if?”

And that question is loaded with great potentials, which still create more questions than answers…

But I’m content to rest in the idea that for now, that may be my answer.

To keep asking about the possible good outcomes this could create. To keep seeking them.

Through the challenges I’ve been faced with, I’ve wrestled with questions I never would have thought of asking before.

And the answers to those questions are only found in searching to know more of Who God is.

Now, in the heat of the battle, wrestling, searching, longing, seeking… I am becoming grateful for the gift of this journey.

Because my place in this broken world has been shaken, I’ve gotten homesick for my home… Heaven.

A desire for perfection was written into our hearts when we were born in Eden, but we all know this world is far removed from its original state. That’s why disappointments hurt… our instincts tell us it wasn’t meant to be this way.

But in the everyday moments, when life flows along smoothly, we forget who we are, why we’re here, and where we’re going. We can become quite focused on our earthly lives, and really would be fine with staying quite awhile.

That perspective changes quickly, though, when life holds disappointment.

When we are faced with pain, we remember the reality that we don’t belong here. We belong with Jesus, in Heaven.

And since we can’t go there yet, we seek to walk more closely with Him here… because He has made Himself available to share our lives if we will invite Him in.

Walking intimately with Jesus is like a prelude to Heaven, a security in an uncertain world.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.

And I wouldn’t have this experience if pain hadn’t made me long for Heaven… and therefore seek Jesus more than before…

I used to wonder why I was created with a deep compassion for those who are suffering, if my life has been so blessed.

I’ve felt the deep desire to walk alongside those who are struggling under the extreme challenges their lives hold… yet I’ve also wrestled with knowing that I haven’t experienced much pain in life. Because of that, anyone who has would be fully accurate if they would accuse me of not having the ability to understand.

For many years, I believed by faith that God is good, but my life circumstances had not seriously challenged that belief.

And now that I’ve personally had to wrestle with that question, I still believe that God is good. More than ever.

But when I say that… it’s so much deeper. Filled with new meaning. Because I have had to search out His goodness in the hard and holy places… and this, I’ve learned, is the sacredness of suffering.

To seek God and discover His goodness in the most unlikely places, and open a whole new journey into the depths of experiencing His greatness.

Now, with the new perspectives I’m given the opportunity to learn, maybe I will become more.

I knew I was lacking, and I wanted to be used for God’s service, but I couldn’t have chosen a way to effectively equip myself.

I wanted a closer experience of knowing Jesus… a greater thirst to understand God’s ways… a deeper journey into His heart.

And although I never would have chosen the methods I see God using to work in my life, I am slowly understanding how suffering can be a gift… because nothing else could cultivate these things in me the way suffering does.

What if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?

Blessings, by Laura Story

What if these tears are to teach me the empathy I knew I was missing before?

What if instead of an ending, this is the beginning of an awesome journey I never could have imagined taking?

What if through loss, life could become filled with so much more?

*photography and design by Jackie, author of this blog. Lyrics on photos are excerpts from “Blessings” by Laura Story.