Have you ever landed wrongly? If you have, you'll get what I'm talking about. That sharp pain that immediately shoots through your whole leg? Yep, it's definitely not on my list of Top 5 most pleasant things.
But the thing is... That pain can result from not only landing wrongly, but also from standing up under pressure.
Life has its way of knocking you down. Knocking the wind out of you. Giving you a low blow.
And the thing I've come to find, is that it's the moments we least expect in which we experience that "shooting pain." It sure can catch you off guard. Maybe that's what is most painful about the whole thing. The lack of ability to prepare for the pain. For the heart ache. For the lack of mobility... at least temporarily.
Sometimes, we just have to get up and begin walking. Take that crazy risk. Jump off that "cliff" so to speak... Whatever that may look like.
It's almost as if we need to prove to ourselves that we don't have to limp any more. That we actually remember how to walk... Without that limp of which we've become so accustomed. And sometimes, even has become comfortable.
What better way than to stand up (despite the struggle that may result) and walk? Even if that means dreadfully stumbling with those first few steps?
There's such power in that.
Trust me, I've felt it before.
But it's not just a one-time thing.
Limping can become a way of life. It's like we forget how to walk freely... Much less, live fully.
We begin to think that we were made with a limp. To stumble through each day with - what can seem - to be a lack of purpose. Lack of identity. Lack of hope. But this could be no further from the truth!
NO! We WON'T limp our entire lives... Jesus makes the lame to WALK! With boldness. With gumption. With PURPOSE. He says "Get up and walk!" [Matthew 9:6] And you know what happens? We GET UP.
But don't miss this.
We have the strength to get up only because of and through HIS power.
And you know what else?
We get up...
Completely healed.
Because we were made to stand up. To walk. And even...
To run.
And eventually, the limping will be no more.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
c|h|a|p|t|e|r|s.
I'm not an avid reader of fiction. My brother has always told me it's because "I have no imagination." Maybe that's partially true. Ok, so maybe it's very true. I struggle to picture a world that isn't reality. Books are "black and white" for a reason right? Literally. Well, that's my 2 cents.
Nevertheless, I'll give the fiction genre this prop - each chapter builds on the one before it.
I simply love that.
Although it seems as though a character has left the story, he or she is there nevertheless. The essence. The footprints. The impact. The story, where it is presently, cannot exist without the presence of that particular character at one point in time.
But this is what I hate. One chapter cannot begin without the ending of another. That's the part that breaks my heart. Shatters it actually... If I'm being completely honest.
There are just some characters that are meant to play a small role in the story. But this is not the case for every character. That gives me hope... Not to mention, gives me the desire to keep reading.
The best type of books (and the only type of fiction books I occasionally read) are those of which the ending is not predictable.
The story may seem never-ending. All hope may appear lost. But the greatest books are those of which you read the last page and are left in awe.
Sheer amazement.
Those books of which you can look back on prior chapters and see that the ending was really clear all along...
You just had to experience every page to see it.
Life is very much the same way.
I'm only 22. That sounds old to me. Yes, yes, I know. I'm not old. Technically, I'm still considered to be in that wonderful "young adult" category. But to be real, there are parts of my life I can't really recall clearly. Sure, some of that time forgotten was before my brain was fully developed and my capacity for memory was truly existent. Most of those times, however, are just simply a blur. Like my first day of junior high or my first date. You'd think I'd remember those moments... But nope, I don't. Don't ask me why. I guess I only remember the "important" things in life.
Although... The one thing I never forget (even if I try) are those "characters" that walk in... and sometimes out, of my life. Like I said, the characters make the story what it is. After all, you could argue that without additional characters, you have no story.
Because part of living your story is colliding with others along your way. Along your journey.
The impact waits in the collision. The thing about collisions is that they stick with you. Sometimes literally. Sore muscles, broken bones. But more often, these collisions result in overflowing hearts and freed minds.
The Author of the book called Life planned the contents of each page. Every event. Every character. Every struggle. Every victory. All culminating to the words on that last page... Whenever it may be written.
We may not be able to choose every character who enters our stories. If you haven't figured it out yet, you're not in control of your life. Sorry if I just let the "cat out of the bag" on that one. Better sooner rather than later, right? However. We can decide with whom we will collide. Those whom we will allow to become a "leading role" in our stories. Slowly but surely, chapter by chapter.
That's why it is never fulfilling to skip to the ending of a book.
Because the joy is in the journey.
You cannot experience the joy of the completion without truly and fully understanding the blood, sweat, and tears... and the love, life, and determination it took to get to that last page. Last paragraph. Last sentence. Last word.
There is no ending without first, a beginning.
Nor is there an ending without the middle.
The secret lies in embracing each and every chapter along the way.
Nevertheless, I'll give the fiction genre this prop - each chapter builds on the one before it.
I simply love that.
Although it seems as though a character has left the story, he or she is there nevertheless. The essence. The footprints. The impact. The story, where it is presently, cannot exist without the presence of that particular character at one point in time.
But this is what I hate. One chapter cannot begin without the ending of another. That's the part that breaks my heart. Shatters it actually... If I'm being completely honest.
There are just some characters that are meant to play a small role in the story. But this is not the case for every character. That gives me hope... Not to mention, gives me the desire to keep reading.
The best type of books (and the only type of fiction books I occasionally read) are those of which the ending is not predictable.
The story may seem never-ending. All hope may appear lost. But the greatest books are those of which you read the last page and are left in awe.
Sheer amazement.
Those books of which you can look back on prior chapters and see that the ending was really clear all along...
You just had to experience every page to see it.
Life is very much the same way.
I'm only 22. That sounds old to me. Yes, yes, I know. I'm not old. Technically, I'm still considered to be in that wonderful "young adult" category. But to be real, there are parts of my life I can't really recall clearly. Sure, some of that time forgotten was before my brain was fully developed and my capacity for memory was truly existent. Most of those times, however, are just simply a blur. Like my first day of junior high or my first date. You'd think I'd remember those moments... But nope, I don't. Don't ask me why. I guess I only remember the "important" things in life.
Although... The one thing I never forget (even if I try) are those "characters" that walk in... and sometimes out, of my life. Like I said, the characters make the story what it is. After all, you could argue that without additional characters, you have no story.
Because part of living your story is colliding with others along your way. Along your journey.
The impact waits in the collision. The thing about collisions is that they stick with you. Sometimes literally. Sore muscles, broken bones. But more often, these collisions result in overflowing hearts and freed minds.
The Author of the book called Life planned the contents of each page. Every event. Every character. Every struggle. Every victory. All culminating to the words on that last page... Whenever it may be written.
We may not be able to choose every character who enters our stories. If you haven't figured it out yet, you're not in control of your life. Sorry if I just let the "cat out of the bag" on that one. Better sooner rather than later, right? However. We can decide with whom we will collide. Those whom we will allow to become a "leading role" in our stories. Slowly but surely, chapter by chapter.
That's why it is never fulfilling to skip to the ending of a book.
Because the joy is in the journey.
You cannot experience the joy of the completion without truly and fully understanding the blood, sweat, and tears... and the love, life, and determination it took to get to that last page. Last paragraph. Last sentence. Last word.
There is no ending without first, a beginning.
Nor is there an ending without the middle.
The secret lies in embracing each and every chapter along the way.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
aLIVE.
Sometimes we just need to be recharged. We lose energy. It's all been drained. Used up. Our "battery life" quickly falls from "green" to "red" in a matter of moments. The energizer bunny is no longer beating his drum.
If the heart is beating, there is life within. Nevertheless, we can reach the point of having no interest. No passion. Apathy and indifference set up camp in the deepest parts of our souls. Or maybe it's just a feeling of defeat.
At times, the heart even seemingly stops beating altogether. We quickly forget what it is for which (or for Whom) we're living... Or forget that we are even alive at all.
There is something about hearing another's heartbeat that is inspiring. We can so easily forget this distinct and irreplaceable "sound of life." But when we hear it, something begins to awaken within us. There is no other sound like it. We so often struggle with the issue of purpose... But why is it that we have an unmistakable feeling of desire and urgency to help those who cannot help themselves? It doesn't take much for a fire to be set aflame within our spirits. We are driven towards justice and compassion. There it is... look closely, that is called...
Purpose.
That strong, deep passion to reach out and get beyond ourselves.
Maybe that's our problem. Our focus on our "quest for purpose" keeps our eyes fixed greatly on "me, myself, and I"... when really, our purpose is waiting in the eyes of those who are burdened and hurting.
Our heartbeats awaken one another.
To newfound purpose. To forgotten dreams. To a place of openness. Trust. Brokenness. Transparency.
And... Dependence.
But this is a unique form of dependence. This dependence bears its roots in broken soil. You see, soil must be broken, or stirred up, in order for life to be planted... or replanted.
As the Body of Christ, we are called to be "one in spirit" (Philippians 1:26-28, ESV). I have always understood that concept... Yet, I had not had the opportunity, until recently, to truly experience the miracle of unity of spirit, heart, and purpose. There is a reason, a vital reason, why Jesus stated that unity was and is essential. He knew that there would be times when our heartbeats would slow... and even become so soft, that we would no longer be able to hear the precious sound... at least, on our own.
That's where the unity comes in.
Because although we sometimes forget the sound of our own heartbeats, they are not silent.
They simply just need someone--anyone--to take the time to hear them. To listen intently for any sign of life.
Because it's there.
God is never early and never late. He knows full well when our hearts will be ready for awakening and who it is that He can and will use to "jump start" our flat-lining spirits. Sometimes, we just aren't quite ready to "wake up." Our hearts become comfortable. Stuck in the comfort zones of apathy and complacency... Surrounded by the walls of distance and self-protection. We tell ourselves that we will never be in a position to hurt... or to feel ever again. But what we don't realize is this...
Unless one truly feels, he cannot truly live. And he definitely cannot live to his fullest potential... as God intended for him to live (John 10:10, ESV).
Abundantly alive.
And so eventually, our hearts begin to beat as one. If that isn't a display of unity through the power of the Holy Spirit, I'm not sure what is.
When our hearts beat together, it's a beautiful sound.
So answer me this:
Are you truly and sincerely...
Alive?
♥ ♫
If the heart is beating, there is life within. Nevertheless, we can reach the point of having no interest. No passion. Apathy and indifference set up camp in the deepest parts of our souls. Or maybe it's just a feeling of defeat.
At times, the heart even seemingly stops beating altogether. We quickly forget what it is for which (or for Whom) we're living... Or forget that we are even alive at all.
There is something about hearing another's heartbeat that is inspiring. We can so easily forget this distinct and irreplaceable "sound of life." But when we hear it, something begins to awaken within us. There is no other sound like it. We so often struggle with the issue of purpose... But why is it that we have an unmistakable feeling of desire and urgency to help those who cannot help themselves? It doesn't take much for a fire to be set aflame within our spirits. We are driven towards justice and compassion. There it is... look closely, that is called...
Purpose.
That strong, deep passion to reach out and get beyond ourselves.
Maybe that's our problem. Our focus on our "quest for purpose" keeps our eyes fixed greatly on "me, myself, and I"... when really, our purpose is waiting in the eyes of those who are burdened and hurting.
Our heartbeats awaken one another.
To newfound purpose. To forgotten dreams. To a place of openness. Trust. Brokenness. Transparency.
And... Dependence.
But this is a unique form of dependence. This dependence bears its roots in broken soil. You see, soil must be broken, or stirred up, in order for life to be planted... or replanted.
As the Body of Christ, we are called to be "one in spirit" (Philippians 1:26-28, ESV). I have always understood that concept... Yet, I had not had the opportunity, until recently, to truly experience the miracle of unity of spirit, heart, and purpose. There is a reason, a vital reason, why Jesus stated that unity was and is essential. He knew that there would be times when our heartbeats would slow... and even become so soft, that we would no longer be able to hear the precious sound... at least, on our own.
That's where the unity comes in.
Because although we sometimes forget the sound of our own heartbeats, they are not silent.
They simply just need someone--anyone--to take the time to hear them. To listen intently for any sign of life.
Because it's there.
God is never early and never late. He knows full well when our hearts will be ready for awakening and who it is that He can and will use to "jump start" our flat-lining spirits. Sometimes, we just aren't quite ready to "wake up." Our hearts become comfortable. Stuck in the comfort zones of apathy and complacency... Surrounded by the walls of distance and self-protection. We tell ourselves that we will never be in a position to hurt... or to feel ever again. But what we don't realize is this...
Unless one truly feels, he cannot truly live. And he definitely cannot live to his fullest potential... as God intended for him to live (John 10:10, ESV).
Abundantly alive.
And so eventually, our hearts begin to beat as one. If that isn't a display of unity through the power of the Holy Spirit, I'm not sure what is.
When our hearts beat together, it's a beautiful sound.
So answer me this:
Are you truly and sincerely...
Alive?
♥ ♫
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
flat land.
What is it about flat land? Why is it that "flat" journeys are attractive to the human heart? Is it the ease? The lack of stress? The fact that no "muscle" is needed? Anyone can walk a smoothly paved road.
But what if we weren't created to walk flat terrain? There is something about the human heart that yearns for adventure... wonders if there is something more. More than simply picking ones feet up... over and over again.
You see, we often think we accomplish more or travel further as a result of the effortless landscape. But we instead, become numb... Complacent. We get "lulled to sleep" by the repeated motion of our simplistic steps.
Have you ever stopped to think that the heart longs for a struggle of sorts? A challenge? I firmly believe that is true. But our hearts are innately infused with a desire to excel. To succeed. To reach our utmost potential. And because of our brokenness, we think we need to settle to reach that success, whatever that success might be. But settling never got anyone to the top of Mount Everest.
The view after climbing a mountain is irreplaceable. Trust me. This past March, I experienced the biggest workout of my life as I climbed to Romero Pools in Tucson, Arizona. The views, however, were worth it all. Don't get me wrong, there were definitely times I wanted to turn back. After all, this Indiana girl is not accustomed to the drastic incline of the Southwest. But every time I had the desire to return to the flat, desert land, I would simply stop and take time to view the horizon. You can't see a view like that without some sort of struggle or effort (unless you own your own private plane). But that's besides the point.
With that said, mountains cannot exist without the presence of valleys. It's impossible. At some point, you have to come down. Experience the "lows" of life. For those who know me even slightly, you know I am not a fan of emotional roller coasters. But life is not a "walk in the park"... nor is it a stroll down the lane. We are hit with reality... with moments when we discover our view is no longer thrilling... but rather, mundane and lacking luster.
But obviously, we must, and will encounter both. The highest peaks and the deepest valleys alike. Lessons learned in the valleys are not the same as those learned on the mountain top. Nor are they purposed to be. The uneven terrain is a paradox. The unevenness is necessary to keep us "grounded." It keeps us looking ahead, and behind, with the proper perspective.
When arriving in the valley, one can look behind and see the peak from which he came... while also knowing that he can face the peak that lies ahead. I think we have to face a peak, before we can begin to understand the strength of Christ in our weak, and sometimes lazy, legs. To awaken the knowledge that is is He that is ordering each and every step. That even the most mundane steps... as well as the most trying treads, can be overflowing with purpose.
I've climbed some mountains the past few years... both literally and figuratively speaking. I've journeyed through some valleys as well. And if I'm speaking honestly, I've been worn out countless times. My legs have felt like jello. But that "jello feeling" only lasts for so long.
We were created to adapt. To thrive.
Although the journey is often trying and tragic, the heart has an opportunity to soak in some crazy views... from both high and low standings.
My memory has been flooded with some incredible scenery. The journey was not and is not always pleasant. But at least I'm not walking comatose through this life. Because when you consider the views to be seen, that would just be a shame.
All I know is this...
I was not created for flat land.
But what if we weren't created to walk flat terrain? There is something about the human heart that yearns for adventure... wonders if there is something more. More than simply picking ones feet up... over and over again.
You see, we often think we accomplish more or travel further as a result of the effortless landscape. But we instead, become numb... Complacent. We get "lulled to sleep" by the repeated motion of our simplistic steps.
Have you ever stopped to think that the heart longs for a struggle of sorts? A challenge? I firmly believe that is true. But our hearts are innately infused with a desire to excel. To succeed. To reach our utmost potential. And because of our brokenness, we think we need to settle to reach that success, whatever that success might be. But settling never got anyone to the top of Mount Everest.
The view after climbing a mountain is irreplaceable. Trust me. This past March, I experienced the biggest workout of my life as I climbed to Romero Pools in Tucson, Arizona. The views, however, were worth it all. Don't get me wrong, there were definitely times I wanted to turn back. After all, this Indiana girl is not accustomed to the drastic incline of the Southwest. But every time I had the desire to return to the flat, desert land, I would simply stop and take time to view the horizon. You can't see a view like that without some sort of struggle or effort (unless you own your own private plane). But that's besides the point.
With that said, mountains cannot exist without the presence of valleys. It's impossible. At some point, you have to come down. Experience the "lows" of life. For those who know me even slightly, you know I am not a fan of emotional roller coasters. But life is not a "walk in the park"... nor is it a stroll down the lane. We are hit with reality... with moments when we discover our view is no longer thrilling... but rather, mundane and lacking luster.
But obviously, we must, and will encounter both. The highest peaks and the deepest valleys alike. Lessons learned in the valleys are not the same as those learned on the mountain top. Nor are they purposed to be. The uneven terrain is a paradox. The unevenness is necessary to keep us "grounded." It keeps us looking ahead, and behind, with the proper perspective.
When arriving in the valley, one can look behind and see the peak from which he came... while also knowing that he can face the peak that lies ahead. I think we have to face a peak, before we can begin to understand the strength of Christ in our weak, and sometimes lazy, legs. To awaken the knowledge that is is He that is ordering each and every step. That even the most mundane steps... as well as the most trying treads, can be overflowing with purpose.
I've climbed some mountains the past few years... both literally and figuratively speaking. I've journeyed through some valleys as well. And if I'm speaking honestly, I've been worn out countless times. My legs have felt like jello. But that "jello feeling" only lasts for so long.
We were created to adapt. To thrive.
Although the journey is often trying and tragic, the heart has an opportunity to soak in some crazy views... from both high and low standings.
My memory has been flooded with some incredible scenery. The journey was not and is not always pleasant. But at least I'm not walking comatose through this life. Because when you consider the views to be seen, that would just be a shame.
All I know is this...
I was not created for flat land.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
4 Years Later...
You may have noticed that I have added a handful of blogs in one day... I did not go on a blogging rampage! These "new blogs" were written from 2008-2010 before I began a blog. Wanted to have all my writings in one place! They are dated as to when I wrote them... but start reading from the bottom of my blog and scroll up!
Nothing is more humbling than looking back on your life and seeing how far God has brought you. Take a read if you wish... Thanks for continuing to walk with me on this journey!
Nothing is more humbling than looking back on your life and seeing how far God has brought you. Take a read if you wish... Thanks for continuing to walk with me on this journey!
Dwell.
July 31, 2010
Have you ever slammed on the brakes? There's not too many things that gets your attention as quickly and effectively as having to suddenly try your hardest to avoid becoming part of a giant pile up on the free way. But I've also noticed something else after briskly implementing the use of that very vital part of a vehicle. The speed at which I was once traveling becomes quite apparent. So often on the interstate I find myself wanting to go faster. Why is that? I'm already going 70+ mph. Isn't that fast enough? But after thinking about it for quite some time now, I'm discovering that it stems from a deeper issue...something programmed deep within my heart.
Have you ever slammed on the brakes? There's not too many things that gets your attention as quickly and effectively as having to suddenly try your hardest to avoid becoming part of a giant pile up on the free way. But I've also noticed something else after briskly implementing the use of that very vital part of a vehicle. The speed at which I was once traveling becomes quite apparent. So often on the interstate I find myself wanting to go faster. Why is that? I'm already going 70+ mph. Isn't that fast enough? But after thinking about it for quite some time now, I'm discovering that it stems from a deeper issue...something programmed deep within my heart.
Dwelling is not an easy task. To dwell causes one to have to stop. To cease any and all courses of action. To stop analyzing, planning, running, hiding, and striving. Striving. Now there's a word that I have come to know quite well. Dwelling simply requires one to wait...and rest. Not strive. I think that's the hardest part...striving is second nature to me. Twenty years of practice has pretty much cemented that in this stubborn brain of mine.
But that's just it. The more I continue to seek the heart of my God, the more I recognize how wrong I've been for so long. God never asked me to strive. To put on a "I've got it all together" show. Who am I fooling anyway? Certainly not Him. Rather, He invites me to cease. That sort of leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Kind of like that cheap-o coffee you get at that last resort gas station (there's not too many things I despise more than that). But why? Why is it that the very thing I was truly made to do leaves me miserable, feeling like I've missed the mark? Maybe because my heart has majorly missed the true source of satisfaction. Not the kind of satisfaction that comes from the completion of a task (although I do very much enjoy that sensation). But the immense joy and peace that comes from the difficult, yet worthwhile recognition of my own incapability. That my life is not within my control. Ugh. A part of my Type A mentality dies every time I utter those painful yet freeing words...
As I was spending time with the Lord the other day, I turned to one of my favorite passages. As I began to read Psalm 27, I pleaded with the Lord to bring something new to light within the chapter, to teach me something fresh from His Word. Praise Jesus that He always, always, always answers that prayer with a resounding "Yes, I will!". But as I continued to read, I kept getting distracted...so it took a few times for me to get hit with a simple, yet mind-blowing truth from the life of David. David got it. The first couple verses relay the truth of the sovereignty and goodness of our God while also retelling the troubles (and current trials) of David's life. But then you get to verse 4. This is my favorite part. And that's when it hit me like a crisp, October breeze in Indiana. Even after all that David weathered in his life, he uncovered the secret.
[v.4] of Psalm 27 says: "One thing I ask of the LORD, THIS is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek Him in His temple."
Wow. David blows me away. He knew that life throws its fair share of junk at us. He didn't live under the illusion that this life is a walk in the park. He knew better than to be that naive. He certainly had the experiences to back that up. But David did know what to do in the midst of his storms...dwell.
My mind and heart are in constant combat. What my heart truly (and was created) to desire is the very thing my mind fights to believe...that surrender is stronger than striving. Surrender is freedom. Paradoxical? Most definitely. Yet, I am finding that it is the key.
OK, so back to the whole dwelling gig. David understood the secret within the storm. That to dwell was safer than to strive. That his (maybe innocent) strivings would only stir his storm even more so. But dwelling...that merely caused him to sit and rest in the midst of the storm. Crazy? To some...or most rather, yes. Absolutely. But this "madman" was referred (by God Himself) as "a man after God's own heart." So obviously, I've missed something quite important along the way...
David was a man of focus. He had a focus I envy. His gaze was fixed. Fixed not on his storm...but on His God. David could dwell peacefully in the midst of his chaos because he was so caught up in the beauty of His Lord. In the beauty that comes only from the realization that I am not in charge. That I don't measure up. That I will continue to (always) fall short. Now that sounds like borderline insanity. Maybe it is. But something comes alive in one's heart when he reads that and lets it sink in to the very depths of his soul. Did you feel it? That was your heart beginning to awaken to the truth that you were created...to dwell.
Sure, you can fight it. I surely have...and most days still do. But thanks to the grace of my Jesus, that's begun to change. And He is inviting you to the same paradigm shift. To throw off the performance-based striving. To simply bask in His radiance. His abundant and furious love...for you. Honestly, it is a painful thing to slam on the brakes. Ceasing to strive can result in some pretty powerful whiplash. But the view...much clearer now that you've stopped, is more than worth the temporary discomfort. It will blow your mind. Your God is beckoning you to dwell because He knows that it is in His presence alone that you are safe. That only there, will you truly be healed.
So what do you say? Care to join me for the view?
Flames.
May 17, 2010
I absolutely love camping. Everything about it relaxes me and helps me forget the momentary troubles of this world. The campfire, however, is most definitely my favorite part of the entire outdoor experience. There are few things I love more than sitting in the crisp air on a June evening listening to the flames crack and whistle.
Fire is a curious entity. It has never ceased to captivate me. I could gaze upon its flames for an eternity. Not only does it constantly flicker but also seems to present an endless dance of power, yet also simplistic purity.
However, the thing that always has puzzled me about a flame is its ability to destroy but, when used carefully, instead refine. How is it that a single substance has been used for the destruction of millions of people and yet the making of countless masterpieces? As I have considered this, I have come to find that the power of the flame is held in the hand of its master. What the master desires, so the flame will accomplish.
The past two years of my life have been nothing less than a whirlwind. They have been full of excitement, joy, new thrills, and victory. However, in spite of the sun, there has been rain. I have found myself in the midst of a seemingly never-ending storm. This life has had its share of pain, suffering, and sorrow. It is in these present experiences that I have begun to recognize the power of earthly circumstances and trials.
Last February, I began to have much pain whenever I ate. It began slowly. As time went on, however, the moments occurred more frequently and the pain increased. By June, I found myself in the emergency room. As the months carried on, I went through medical testing and multiple appointments. By December, I had four procedures and a handful of blood tests under my belt. Between my undiagnosed illness and the pressure of a semester of Pre-Med, I was spent. I have never before felt such fatigue or defeat.
Christmas break wasn’t much of a break. I was sick and worn out the majority of my time at home. I was beyond discouragement and the ability to hope. I couldn’t eat without getting sick for days on end. I lost the desire to even try because I knew it would only worsen my physical health. At the beginning of January, my mom suggested I see another doctor for a second opinion. To be honest, I didn’t care much anymore. I had begun to accept the fact that no one could help me feel better. It had been eleven months of searching with no answers…but I went anyway to have one last blood work done.
At the end of my first week of second semester, mom called me letting me know that my blood had tested positive for celiac sprue. I had celiac disease. They finally had found it. I still remember where I was when I heard that I would have this illness for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what to feel in that moment. I felt both relieved yet overwhelmed by the discovery. I barely had strength to get out of bed in the morning. How was I going to gather enough tenacity to continue about my new major, regaining my health, and beginning this journey of adjusting to a major lifestyle adjustment? I had no idea. I was close to surrender…it was all I had left.
Where am I going with this? Just bear with me. This is not something I enjoy talking about. In fact, I have been fighting bitterness, despair, and defeat for over a year. Not because it seems like 90% of food has been eliminated from my diet but because of the physical toll this disease has taken on my body. Anyone can adjust to eating only a handful of foods day after day. You might believe otherwise, but after months of illness, it’s amazing what you are motivated to do to feel healthy again. It’s not that I want the whole world to know this aspect of my life. Not the point. Actually, the exact opposite is true. I have tried for so long to ignore it and just move on. However, I have learned that circumstances that remain captive to Satan’s power become the very things that cause us to become destroyed by the flames—flames that have the potential to strengthen and transform the brokenness. So I have chosen to embrace the fire.
I feel as though the theme of my life right now is refinement. I’ve felt the flame countless times over the past few months and continue to presently. It’s as though I seemingly conquer one battle only to fall again when the new one approaches. But maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, this fire that has been overcoming my days is meant to mold and shape me…not leave me in ruin.
So this is what I’m getting at. I’m finding that the key to this overwhelming mystery of pain, toil, and struggle lies in the hand of the master. There are days when I have felt that everything is out to get me. But what if these hardships are opportunities in disguise? What if God is giving me the blessed privilege of proclaiming His grace and faithfulness in my moments of despair and weakness? What if His plan for me is to constantly be a picture of one who can do nothing but remain at His feet in constant surrender?
I’ve heard it said that the shadow proves the sunshine. Looking back on the past two years of my life, I can tell you from experience that statement could not be more true. I have felt immense discouragement, defeat, and have come quite close to giving up this fight to regain my physical and emotional health…multiple times. But in the midst of my darkest days, the light of hope has prevailed. When I had no more strength, God upheld me. I now personally know what Paul meant when he said, “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9b-10)
What an amazing proclamation of faith! My daily prayer is that the pain would become less and less but in the moments of struggle, God would give me an opportunity to share the story of my refinement. How He has remolded my view of trials. How He has reshaped my perspective of pain. How He has renewed this broken spirit.
I will never look at a campfire the same way again. I have learned much about the power that lies within the flames. You see, fire has been used for centuries to purify. Some of the most broken things have been put to the flame only to emerge beautifully refined. Praise Jesus that He alone commands the flames that enter my life! He has redeemed my trials and moments of despair! No longer do my flames lie in the grasp of the master of destruction…but in the hands of my Mighty Creator…in the gentle care of my God.
Who holds your flame?
I absolutely love camping. Everything about it relaxes me and helps me forget the momentary troubles of this world. The campfire, however, is most definitely my favorite part of the entire outdoor experience. There are few things I love more than sitting in the crisp air on a June evening listening to the flames crack and whistle.
Fire is a curious entity. It has never ceased to captivate me. I could gaze upon its flames for an eternity. Not only does it constantly flicker but also seems to present an endless dance of power, yet also simplistic purity.
However, the thing that always has puzzled me about a flame is its ability to destroy but, when used carefully, instead refine. How is it that a single substance has been used for the destruction of millions of people and yet the making of countless masterpieces? As I have considered this, I have come to find that the power of the flame is held in the hand of its master. What the master desires, so the flame will accomplish.
The past two years of my life have been nothing less than a whirlwind. They have been full of excitement, joy, new thrills, and victory. However, in spite of the sun, there has been rain. I have found myself in the midst of a seemingly never-ending storm. This life has had its share of pain, suffering, and sorrow. It is in these present experiences that I have begun to recognize the power of earthly circumstances and trials.
Last February, I began to have much pain whenever I ate. It began slowly. As time went on, however, the moments occurred more frequently and the pain increased. By June, I found myself in the emergency room. As the months carried on, I went through medical testing and multiple appointments. By December, I had four procedures and a handful of blood tests under my belt. Between my undiagnosed illness and the pressure of a semester of Pre-Med, I was spent. I have never before felt such fatigue or defeat.
Christmas break wasn’t much of a break. I was sick and worn out the majority of my time at home. I was beyond discouragement and the ability to hope. I couldn’t eat without getting sick for days on end. I lost the desire to even try because I knew it would only worsen my physical health. At the beginning of January, my mom suggested I see another doctor for a second opinion. To be honest, I didn’t care much anymore. I had begun to accept the fact that no one could help me feel better. It had been eleven months of searching with no answers…but I went anyway to have one last blood work done.
At the end of my first week of second semester, mom called me letting me know that my blood had tested positive for celiac sprue. I had celiac disease. They finally had found it. I still remember where I was when I heard that I would have this illness for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what to feel in that moment. I felt both relieved yet overwhelmed by the discovery. I barely had strength to get out of bed in the morning. How was I going to gather enough tenacity to continue about my new major, regaining my health, and beginning this journey of adjusting to a major lifestyle adjustment? I had no idea. I was close to surrender…it was all I had left.
Where am I going with this? Just bear with me. This is not something I enjoy talking about. In fact, I have been fighting bitterness, despair, and defeat for over a year. Not because it seems like 90% of food has been eliminated from my diet but because of the physical toll this disease has taken on my body. Anyone can adjust to eating only a handful of foods day after day. You might believe otherwise, but after months of illness, it’s amazing what you are motivated to do to feel healthy again. It’s not that I want the whole world to know this aspect of my life. Not the point. Actually, the exact opposite is true. I have tried for so long to ignore it and just move on. However, I have learned that circumstances that remain captive to Satan’s power become the very things that cause us to become destroyed by the flames—flames that have the potential to strengthen and transform the brokenness. So I have chosen to embrace the fire.
I feel as though the theme of my life right now is refinement. I’ve felt the flame countless times over the past few months and continue to presently. It’s as though I seemingly conquer one battle only to fall again when the new one approaches. But maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, this fire that has been overcoming my days is meant to mold and shape me…not leave me in ruin.
So this is what I’m getting at. I’m finding that the key to this overwhelming mystery of pain, toil, and struggle lies in the hand of the master. There are days when I have felt that everything is out to get me. But what if these hardships are opportunities in disguise? What if God is giving me the blessed privilege of proclaiming His grace and faithfulness in my moments of despair and weakness? What if His plan for me is to constantly be a picture of one who can do nothing but remain at His feet in constant surrender?
I’ve heard it said that the shadow proves the sunshine. Looking back on the past two years of my life, I can tell you from experience that statement could not be more true. I have felt immense discouragement, defeat, and have come quite close to giving up this fight to regain my physical and emotional health…multiple times. But in the midst of my darkest days, the light of hope has prevailed. When I had no more strength, God upheld me. I now personally know what Paul meant when he said, “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9b-10)
What an amazing proclamation of faith! My daily prayer is that the pain would become less and less but in the moments of struggle, God would give me an opportunity to share the story of my refinement. How He has remolded my view of trials. How He has reshaped my perspective of pain. How He has renewed this broken spirit.
I will never look at a campfire the same way again. I have learned much about the power that lies within the flames. You see, fire has been used for centuries to purify. Some of the most broken things have been put to the flame only to emerge beautifully refined. Praise Jesus that He alone commands the flames that enter my life! He has redeemed my trials and moments of despair! No longer do my flames lie in the grasp of the master of destruction…but in the hands of my Mighty Creator…in the gentle care of my God.
Who holds your flame?
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