Onward and Upward

These past weeks I was stuck - mired in the bog of shame and regret.
Sinking quick in the muck of sorrow and regret.

The sting of sin hit and I was left grasping the reality that the consequences for a hardened heart have a far-reaching effect... years later.

Here's what I learned:
Focusing on what is behind me leaves me in the past.

I hurt for what was instead of finding joy in what is.

My eyes become blind to the here and now and I simply can't see the goodnes of the Lord.

I found myself coming to Paul's idea in his letter to the church in Phillipi.  He had written to them while imprisoned, exhorting them to a deeper faith made manifest that was not based on their circumstances.

 "But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind

 and straining forward to what lies ahead. 

I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call

of God in Christ Jesus."

 (Phillipians 3:13-14)

Strive:
1) struggle
2) try hard

The NIV uses "strain."
Strain: to exert to the utmost

I'll be honest.
In my focusing on my "could have, should have, if only's" I was deep in darkness wondering, "how long, O Lord?"

How long until the hurt is gone?
How long until I see the goodness in this?
How long until the pain is not so bitter?

That part was easy.  There is not much exertion when it comes to wallowing in self-pity.

Where I struggled was turning my eyes outward instead of inward.  Finding joy in what I have instead of what I wanted took great strength.

But in fixing my eyes outward and forward and upward, I found the beauty of what Paul was conveying to his flock.

This life is but a breath.  One day I'll fade away and that will be it.
So why keep looking back on the brokenness and what lies in ruins?

I need to press onward, running headlong with abandonment into eternity.

Jesus is there.  And he has already cried, "It is finished."

Victory is mine.

An Unknown Doer

Sunday night found me breaking literal bread with a group of beautiful friends, doubled over with laughter as we played the most ridiculous game ever.  Ever.

Monday found me driving back to my old hometown to spend the night with a dear friend where time had passed too quickly in between visits.  We sat until 2:30 in the morning, sharing and laughing, confessing and encouraging.

Tuesday found me lakeside with a precious woman who has faith that puts me to shame and always spurs me on to live life now.

Wednesday found me back home, sitting with a woman and marching our way through Acts as we both learn.  Her hungry to learn more of God and me aching to just get more.

Community.  Fellowship.
And a complete accident.

As I've been wrestling these past couple of weeks with sin and regret, I've pleaded with the Lord to give me joy in the here and now.  Now.  With nothing changed and no promise that it will get better.

And true to form, he did.

Bittersweet, as I'm still wrestling.  As I'm fighting hard to not let my heart become so.  As I'm putting my nose to the grind and my hands to the wheel, determined to not give up on this race.

But he gave me a glimpse of what life is if I would stop focusing on what it isn't.

He alone has alotted my times and boundaries and seasons.
He alone is good and does good.
He alone is my Sustainer.

It has gotten me far more of him than I thought I could have right now.  It has had me far more joyful than I thought possible right now.

And for that, I lift my hands and give him back all that he has given.

Psalm

Psalm 3:3

 

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,

my glory,

and the lifter of my head.

 

 

 

The Lord is my shield.

 

The Lord is my shield.

 

The Lord is my shield.

 

The Lord is my shield.

 

When my knees have been knocked out from under me.

When I can't seem to catch my breath.

When I literally can't fix what is broken...

I have only to be still.

 

 



Far Reaching

It hits hard.  Some days more than others.
The regrets.  The shame.  The "if only's."

Yesterday I felt the weight, the burden, the reality of sin.

The sting of sin.  The consequences of sin.  The fact that there are no do-overs. 
It had me on the floor, grieving in such a way I couldn't catch my breath.  The cry that you don't want anyone to see.

I sat in the reality that we sinned, regretted it, and still face the consequences years later.

We looked at each other this morning - one weary with crying and one just weary.

So many things, we said.  So many things that we wish could be undone.

And yet, they can't.  It has rightly been said, "It is what it is."

Yes and no.

It is what it is because of sin, because of the brokenness that has existed from the first disobedience.
It is not what it should be but shall one day be again.  Jesus comes back.

All ready he has risen victorious.  All ready he has defeated sin and the grave.

He has bore my shame and iniquity.

There are no do-overs in this thing called life.  That hurts more than you can imagine at this moment.

Yet, I have to put my focus on the Lord and speak his truth to my broken heart.

Psalm 119:68

For you, O God, are good and you do good.

Pain, Still

It's been 4 years.

4 years of grieving.
4 years of hurting.
4 years of much sorrow.

Mother's Day came and went with reminders of what has been taken.  What has been lost.

A season of sin led to a decision that has birthed many regrets.

Asked by our pastor - in the midst of teaching through Ephesians - what do we need to be reminded of that Jesus is over.

Ephesians 1:21 reads, "far above all rule and authority and power and dominion..."

He asked us to write down the words, "Jesus is over."

He then asked asked us to list underneath what it is we're struggling with and to see that Jesus is over it all.

I want to say I'm healed.  I want to say it doesn't affect me.
4 years is 4 years is 4 years and it's time to move on.

Yet...
Today, writing my list, good things, hard things and just plain painful things led me to write longing.

A longing that has not been realized and won't be realized.
A longing that is putting distance between the very relationship that needs healing.

I'm grateful that in the midst of the sorrow, there is joy.  Deep-rooted joy that is steadfast and unwavering.

Grateful that I have a high priest who sympathizes with me and gives me grace and mercy in my time of need.

Because, God knows, I am desperately needy.  And he alone can fill the need.

Hebrews 4:16

Since then we have a great high priest has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.  Let us then with confidence, draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Weary Rejoicing

Last night at dinner,  my little one ddn't like what was presented.
He said his piece was "too burnt."

The husband, in an act of compassion, got up to get him another piece.

After literally turning up his nose at what his father gave him, my sweet six year old "harumphed" and turned the other way.
Jesus spoke to my convicted heart.

I'm in a season of abundance.
I'm learning.
I'm growing.
I'm being stretched.
I'm writing.
I'm teaching.
I'm forming new relationships.
I'm seeing massive changes through the works of my hands.

And yet... some days I'm turning up my nose and walking away.

I'm tired of the meetings.
I'm tired of the trainings.
I'm tired of standing up in front of people.
I'm tired of the to-do lists about what I have to-do.
I'm tired of having to respond to people on a daily basis.

In this, the Lord reminds me he gave me a gift.  He has knitted in me talents.  He has bestowed upon me abilities.  He has answered many cries, prayers and pleadings.

Why, then, do I turn up my nose at these things, and ultimately... him?

As I reminded my boy, the Lord was reminding me:

Rejoice!  Again, I will say it, rejoice. 
Receive this gift, sweetheart and tell your daddy thank-you.
Even if it's not what you think you want.

The Road

This road I travel.  Week after week.  Mile after mile.
The bridge that links our town to the next... Where our church exists, where our community is.

Yet the drive has become far more than my foot pushing the pedal and staying the line.

At the bend, not one, but two signs glare against the East Texas sky, marring the beauty of the ribbon that lays before me.

Simple.  And so gut-wrenchingly complex.

XXX.

Two.  As though one were not enough to contain enough darkness to soothe the soul that trucks by.

Realizing this would be the path I would take over and over, I have asked the Lord over and over to strike them down.  To render them useless.  To heal the brokenness that exists within the walls.  To have beauty come from ashes.

One night... One is unlit.  No lights within.  The darkness had fully take it over, yet it was a victorious darkness.  No more business, no more lostness except innocence.

The other, I still pass.  Asking the Lord what I might do besides plead with him.

He answered, but unexpectedly so.
 A man, hauling out the trash.  Pressed slacks, ironed button up.  The keeper.

Does he know Jesus?  Has he ever heard the gospel?  Oh, how beautiful the feet of those who bring good news!

And to bring the good news to him would take entering in.  Lowering.  To cross the threshold that so deeply divides my world from his.  To literally put myself in the middle of black-hearted filth so that he might hear of a glorious light.

I wrestle with this.  Could I?  Should I?  But if not I, who?

And the Lord whispers... Jesus. 

To bring the glorious light, he left the heavenly for the dastardly.

Not only for me, but for him.
Jesus entered my world.  Saw my hardened heart.  Knew my wicked thoughts.

How can I not, knowing what all he has done for me?