Day 31: A Lifetime of Healing

31 down. A lifetime to go.

One thing is very clear to me at the end of this semi-consistent stream of thinking. As long as I’m alive, I will be learning and living this messy thing called healing.

Because we live in a world busted up by sin, there’s no way to walk around in it without getting busted up ourselves.

And the truth? Sometimes I’m the one swinging the hammer.

Between the pain coming from out there, and the return fire from in here, the situation looks pretty grim.

The good news? God’s not afraid of grim.

“For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope…” 2 Corinthians 1:8-10.

When the healing doesn’t look like we want it to, the hurt hits hard and the words get real. And this doesn’t scare Him either.

How long, Lord? I know part of what you’re delivering me from is my obsession with myself, and my craving for stability apart from You. But right now it hurts. Please, be my hope. When healing is just around the corner, when it’s nowhere in sight, when it’s a distant memory. You are the same. Our hope lives because You live. Perfectly healed, perfectly able to heal.

The end of 31 days, just the beginning.

A lifetime of healing. A lifetime of hope.

Day 30: Music and Words

Tonight is a night for headphones. A night for new music. Movie scores I’ve never heard before.

There is something profoundly beautiful about music written to help you make sense of a story.

Each note, each chord chosen specifically. Intentionally.

When I run out of words, I put on my headphones and remember this story is being written by someone else.

That each moment has been crafted specifically. Intentionally.

And I live by His Words. Not mine.

Listening and trusting tonight that each note, dissonant or harmonious, is exactly as it should be.

And someday we’ll hear the final score, and we will ache for the beauty of it. And we’ll wonder how it ever sounded strange to us.

Until that day Lord, give us grace. Give us a small taste of that melody to carry us over. Give us ears to hear your glory, even here. 

Day 28-29: Engulfing Waters

In the city, the waters rise. We can’t tear our eyes from the images.

We call, we text, we pray.

In our homes, at work, we swim in our own tension, barely keeping our heads above water.

We are overpowered and under-equipped, and we know it.

So we run for shelter.

“The Lord sits enthroned over the engulfing waters,
the Lord sits enthroned as the eternal king.

The Lord gives his people strength;
the Lord grants his people security.” Psalm 29:10-11.

Whatever waters are engulfing you today, the only safe place is with the forever-King.

The King who can promises His stabilizing presence to His people, only because He allowed Himself to be engulfed in the flood of God’s wrath.

And now, we seek shelter from the punishment we deserve in the shelter of those wounds.

If He has granted us shelter from such a storm at great expense to Himself, He can be trusted in this storm. Here. Now.

Lord give us us strength in the midst of whatever storm we find ourselves in. As the waters rise, plant our feet on solid ground. On Christ. Thank you that You are King over the flood. There are no surprises with You. Give us grace to trust You more. We ask it in the strong and secure name of Jesus.

Day 26-27: Make Me Know

Eat breakfast. Make Lunch. Wash dishes. Fix Dinner. Clean up. Repeat.

We stare at each other in a daze and someone asks what day it is.

Meals and pain medication mark the passage of time on the clock. But we are frozen in the moment. Torn between clinging to life, and aching for their pain to be over. Even though we know it means ours has just begun.

I feel almost dizzy as I look at every picture, every nick-knack, every corner in the house as if seeing it for the first time. Because everywhere I turn, I see her.

And not for the first time the question burns inside me. How do you ever recover from the shock of a life full of reminders… yet suddenly empty of the presence of one so dearly loved?

Here is a level of healing I don’t understand at all. A long and messy healing.

I text words to a friend, “I don’t think I’m ready for this stage of life.”

She writes back, “I don’t think we ever will be.”

And in this suspension of time, I come face to face with a prayer that scares me a little.

“LORD, make me to know my end and what is the extent of my days;
Let me know how transient I am.

Behold, You have made my days as handbreadths…
Surely every man at his best is a mere breath.

And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in You.” Psalm 39:4-5, 7

Make me know my end… and make me know my hope. Make me know You. Please Lord. The former without the latter can only lead to despair.
And You are the only hope that’s sufficient for this reality. Save us from false hopes. Make us know You.

Day 25: Exceedingly Abundantly

Sitting on the floor, listening to the sound of a friend pouring out her heart to God on your behalf.

Sharing honest conversation over coffee.

Laughing.

Eating dinner in a tree-house.

Making multiple phone calls to share answered prayer.

Healing came in unexpected packages for me this week, reminding me that God is the One overseeing this process, and He knows exactly what we need.

Even when we don’t.

May we walk through our days expectant of the unexpected. Grace. Exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.

“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. 

 

Day 24: Listening and Learning

The more I write about healing, the less I feel I know about it. So much of it seems clearer when you find yourself on the other side of it.

I still feel very much in the middle, so it remains a mystery to me.

Right now, I’m trying to listen… and to believe others who have been to the hard places and come out on the other side.

I love these words from Presten Gillham: “Worry and fear are simply the belief that I have gotten myself into a place where God is not. And so that brings us to the truth, that God, through his determination to share his heart with me, was willing to go to my ungracious place to be with me.”

The belief that I have gotten myself in a place where God is not.

I can’t help but think of these words from Psalm 139: “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or Where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, even there Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will lay hold of me.”

Thank you Lord that there is no place so ungracious You cannot overpower it with your more than sufficient grace. Meet us now Lord. Please.

Give us grace.

Day 23: Ladders and Life

I had dinner in a tree house tonight, which was both exhilarating and slightly unnerving.

While the boys conquered the ladder with no trouble, the two ladies stood on the ground looking up, trying to decide if this was a good idea.

Fortunately my aunt shared her expertise, “As long as you keep your eyes on where you’re going instead of where you’ve come from, you’ll be okay.”

Then her eyes sparkled as the thought occurred to her, and she smiled and said, “Hey! That’s a good metaphor for you for life right now isn’t it?”

Indeed. Lately, healing feels almost as scary as the climb looks from the ground.

The only way to get through it is to look up… and take the next step.

Right now that’s about all I can manage while I’m hanging on with a death grip to the support God has made available to me: His Word, and His people.

“Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting in you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing,” Psalm 143:8,10.

Lord, light the next step with your unfailing love. Help us. Support us.

Day 22: From A Distance

When you don’t see life coming, it can knock the wind out of you.

A phone call. A meeting. An accident.

What do we do with that kind of pain?

When healing seems like a fairytale, how do we move towards it?

I’ve been pushing against the idea of healing with the how question lately. How do I deal with this? How does this work?

And the truth is, I don’t really know. Healing is something of a mystery, at least to me.

I may be able to look back and see how the broken bones are beginning to heal and grow stronger.

But when you’re in the middle of the pain, it’s almost impossible to see how God is going to make something beautiful out of this.

When I’m in the middle, all I can do is welcome the promise from a distance, and be honest with God in this moment.

Welcoming this promise from a distance tonight. Hope mixed with tears. Asking Him to fill in the the blank for the how.

“In his kindness God called you to share in his eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus. So after you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation,” 1 Peter 5:10.

Day 21: A Safe Place

This is Snapshot. He leads a charmed life. Can you tell?

Every few weeks he claims a new chair as his throne.

Right now, it’s the rocking chair in my room.

Somehow it’s comforting when I find him curled up like this. Here is a creature that knows how to rest.

He’s found a safe place, and he knows it.

This weekend I’ve been reading about another safe place.

“The one thing I ask of the Lord—
    the thing I seek most—
is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
    delighting in the Lord’s perfections
    and meditating in his Temple.
 For he will conceal me there when troubles come;
    he will hide me in his sanctuary.
    He will place me out of reach on a high rock.” Psalm 27:4-5

 Sometimes when the wounds are too fresh, and the healing too painful, all I want to do is hide.

And I think that’s okay. As long as we’re hiding in the right place.

Not behind a mask, or behind a fake “fine,” but behind the Lord’s perfections. Not mine.

Help us rest in this place of safety, Lord. Cover us. Protect us. You are our place of healing.

Day 20: What Does Christmas Music Have to Do With Healing?

A few years ago I heard a bit of trivia on the radio about which genre of music was most soothing. Listeners called in eager to share their opinions, “Classical of course!” This went on for some time until the results of this particular study were revealed. The answer? Christmas music.

Some of you who work in retail are gagging just thinking about listening to hours of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” starting the day after Halloween. But I’m one of those strange people who loves Christmas music, so I heartily agree with this study. It makes complete sense to me that beautiful music that slows us down long enough to stare at Jesus should be soothing, healing even. To allow ourselves to be blown away by the reality of God With Us.

It’s been a long week, full of late nights, long days, and some hard providence. There was also an abundance of undeserved grace poured out hourly on this sinner. But honestly? I’m exhausted.

So I have on my best pair of headphones (the awkward big kind you don’t wear in public) and I’m soaking tonight. Soaking my soul with some of my favorite Christmas songs. Right now I’m listening to Sarah McLauchlan’s version of Greensleeves (What Child is This.) One of the most beautiful renditions I’ve ever heard. Ever. (See link below if you’re curious yet.) So far I’ve listened to it three times tonight.

This. This is Christ the King. Whom Shepherds watch and angels sing.
Haste, haste to bring Him praise.

Can we ever hear it enough? Here He is. Look at Him. Isn’t He beautiful?
This… this is the one we’ve been waiting for. And now He’s here, and nothing will ever be the same.

Do I believe Christmas music is healing? Yes, and any other music that lights up our face with the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.

Oh… and I’m up to four now. Just sayin’.

“For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ,” 2 Corinthians 4:7.

(And since we’re talking about staring at Jesus, not Sarah, please feel free to dissapear your internet browser while you listen.)