Held in the Storm

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It is after the storm passes. When the howling wind that pierced the heart hushes. The surging waves that smashed life to bits become still. And you realize you made it; you lived through it all. You survived. You are still standing.

That is when it hit me. Before the wild storm I thought I had living figured out--until life was almost snuffed out.

I fought and thrashed and floundered. Fought to live for my husband. Fought to live for my children. But when I had fought long and hard enough to keep on living, the frailty of life was too real and I became lost. Lost in the land of the living.

That is when I became afraid to live and scared to suffer anymore.





They say open-heart surgery can send you straight into depression. I fell hard. Into the darkness. Alone. I sunk to a seemingly bottomless pit.

I lost my way.

I lost my words.

I lost the wonder of life.

I became numb. Numb to the very thing I loved to proclaim: the goodness of God.

His grace was blazing like the sunshine splashing gold through the winter branches outside my window, but my eyes focused on the barrenness instead of the Light.

“My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus Christ, my righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”

And, looking away from the shining radiance, I began to sink, like Peter out on the turbulent sea.

Fear held me hostage. Fear does that. It will hold you back and make you withdraw. And you may wonder why God seems so silent.

When Peter stepped out of the boat and fixed his eyes on Jesus he walked on the water. When he saw the wind, he was afraid. When he looked away from the Lord, he tried to flee the danger and ended up withdrawing from the very One who would reach out to help him. And he began to sink.

It is faith that looks to Jesus. Peter had faith. And yes, Jesus reprimanded him for his “little faith”, but not until after He had reached out His hand and took hold of Peter. He held him secure and helped him to trust Him more.

He had already told Peter not to be afraid. He had already told him to: “Take heart, it is I”. He had already bid him to “come”. He had already told him to walk out amidst the storm and trust him. And after Peter falters and flails around in the sea, after Peter looks to the waves and begins to sink, Jesus reaches out his hand and takes hold of Peter and they get back into the boat and the wind ceased.

His anchor held him--through the storm and after the storm.

"When darkness veils His lovely face,

I rest on His unchanging grace;

In every high and stormy gale,

My anchor holds within the veil."

So, when fear grips us and we begin to sink, the Anchor holds us. He has gone before us. He will not let go.

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever.” (Hebrews 6:20-21)

My eyes looked away. Depression clouded my sight. Fear crept in and all I could think to do was to flee, to withdraw. And I began to sink.

I cried out for help, like Peter floundering in the sea.

And when I looked up away from my troubles and fixed my gaze on Jesus, I knew He never let go. He reached out and He took hold of me. The winds ceased. Life sails on. And, it is not a matter of if God is silent.

He has spoken:

“ . . . in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high . . .” (Hebrews 1:1-3)

The storms, they come. We have been battered and beaten. But, we have been held. He reaches out His hand and takes hold and gently nudges, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Don’t look to the waves. Look to the One who made the seas and who has power over the waves.

“His oath, His covenant, His blood,

Support me in the whelming flood;

When all around my soul gives way,

He then is all my hope and stay.”

And after the storm you realize, yes, you made it. And through it your faith is strengthened and your joy is sweeter. Fear turns to awe. The glimpse of the glory you saw, you can’t gaze on it, but you look to the King of grace.

The wonder of His sovereign grace opens your eyes to see His goodness, the display of His righteous power stirs words of praise, and the eternal hope found in Him leads you home.

“When He shall come with trumpet sound,

Oh, may I then in Him be found;

In Him, my righteousness, alone,

Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;

All other ground is sinking sand.”

What Motherhood Has Taught Me: Joy, Peace and Hope in the Journey

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April 13, 2001 I woke in the murky darkness of a new day hours before the sun rose like a beacon of hope. I was alone the moment I saw the first sign that the baby I had carried in my womb for 38 weeks would soon be in my arms.

I had done nearly everything I could do to prepare for this new life, but, in that moment, I sat in stunned uncertainty and curious expectation.

I was still sitting dumbstruck when I heard the front door creak open and Jon, getting home from a long day of work, found me wide-eyed with anticipation. I told him that I was possibly going to have our baby on that very day.

You know what he did?

He decided since I was still early I was probably in false labour and we should get some rest. The instant he flopped in to bed sleep stole him far away from the raging storm of emotions and escalating groans beside him.

So, you know what I did?

I called my mom at two in the morning to see if I really was about to have a baby.

Still not sure if this was the real deal, I shuffled my way upstairs, turned the computer on, waited as the old fashioned dial-up screeched in the silence and lazily connected to the world wide web so Google could confirm that I was absolutely for sure, going to have a baby.

I became a mother on Good Friday.

There are times when it looks like hope has been tucked away in a tomb only to rise again and bring forth joy and peace.





At 7:02 pm after 18 hours of intense laboring, my firstborn sucked in her first breath of air and let out a lusty shriek that took my breath away.

I held new life in my arms, completely unsure of what to do next.

My body had split open and life slipped out and love burst forth from my wildly beating heart. Cries of anguish turned to tears of joy as I recognized God’s abounding grace in that moment.

A mother’s heart holds these cherished memories. From the moment of those first butterfly flutters, first suckle, first smiles, first steps, to the sleepless nights, scraped knees, shattered dreams, relentless sorrow.







We cultivate and nourish deep roots so our children will mount up with wings and soar.

A mother’s heart knows hope.

A mother’s heart can break over a thousand sorrows and by God’s steady stream of grace, pulse with joy and peace.

On August 28, 2014 I watched my children bravely walk out of a hospital, leaving their mother behind fully aware a doctor was going to do his best to help fix my broken heart.

What they didn’t know was how my wildly beating heart shattered to a million pieces as they walked out that door. No doctor could fix this heartache. My husband couldn’t fix this. Calling my mom or dad couldn’t fix this. Google couldn’t help me at all.

For fourteen years I had been a mother.

Once again I sat in uncertainty and again I had to let go and surrender them entirely to the Lord.

I had one thing I could do. One thing.

Trust the God of hope.

I didn’t know what would happen when the surgeon held my stilled heart in his hands, but I trusted the God who holds all things.

The God of hope picks up all the shattered pieces and makes us whole and causes joy and peace to overflow as we trust in Him.





So even as we daily lay ourselves down in the crucible, we are filled with all joy and peace and hope rises to overflowing.

Even in the shattering you shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace.

Consider Paul’s prayer in Romans 15:13:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

First we will ask:

How do we get this surest joy and truest peace?

We are filled with all joy and peace by trusting in the God of Hope. God is the source of joy and peace. The faith that God plants in us reaps joy and peace.

God will fill us with all joy and peace as we trust in Him.

This faith comes from God.

As we take our eyes off of ourselves and trust Jesus Christ, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, we are filled with all joy and peace.

The next thing we should ask is:

What exactly is joy and peace?

Joy is God’s grace recognized.

Faith looks to Jesus Christ and sees all of God’s promises in Him. He is our eternal hope of glory.

When we see all of God’s grace poured out in Christ to us we are filled with an inner delight in God. Our soul will find complete satisfaction in Him – this is joy!

Peace is God’s gift of joining together into wholeness. He takes our sinful brokenness and makes us right with God. Christ came to bring us back to God. He heals the brokenhearted.

Charles Spurgeon said, “Peace is joy resting and joy is peace dancing.”

Finally, we will ask:

What is the result of being filled with joy and peace?

Notice the “so that”. There is an end goal of this joy and peace. “so that you may overflow with hope”

We start with the God of hope. Everything starts with God. God is the author and object of hope. God produces hope.

He works faith in us and in believing in Christ Jesus and his atoning work on the cross we are filled with all joy and peace.

And this leads to us overflowing in hope -- a lively expectation of what is certain.

Hope leads to joy and peace with leads to more hope! An eternal hope.

Christ is our anchor of hope. He holds us steadfast and strong and in Him we abound in hope.

This is not willing ourselves to grasp passing pleasures or pin down illusive peace, but a prayer that the joy and peace that come from faith in God will fill the heart that keeps on trusting the God of hope.

Now we come to the end of the prayer: “by the power of the Holy Spirit.” We are not alone in this journey.

Whatever we face, by God’s grace we can be sure that we can be filled with all joy and peace in believing by the power of the Holy Spirit.

As we cling to this promise, let us give thanks for this triad of graces God tenderly cultivates in the soil of our souls – full joy and peace, and abounding with hope.

Who Am I? {Forgiven} In Christ {Day 8} #31Days

In him we have . . .  the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace."

(Ephesian 1:7)

She had baggage. Boy, did she have baggage.

Enough to make her turn angry, then bitter. A bitterness that runs deeps, rages like fire, takes root, and ruins relationships. Ultimately causing her to do things unimaginable.

The stuff she had done to her and the way she attempted to drown out the pain was enough to make sell herself as though she could purchase her own worth. But, it only left her wounded even more and as she slipped down this slippery slope of sin, she adorned herself with a messy fabric in life and knew it could not longer conceal her and she was at the end. She needed to be released from this bondage and knew she could not do it herself.

She knew what she was, she knew who she was. She knew everyone else couldn't stand the sight of her, except of coarse, the men who only used her for their own sinful self-gratification.

She couldn't live with herself any longer when she heard of One who could take away the pain, the shame, the sin. 

She gathered in her arms the precious ointment that she needed for her employment and boldly came to him. Somehow, she knew she was welcome in his presence and in response she laid herself down and poured out herself.

Forgiven! Her sins were forgiven; her faith had saved her, according to the riches of His grace, and she poured out her adoration, and departed in peace. Though her sins were as scarlet, He made them white as snow.

“I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake,

and I will not remember your sins."
(Isaiah 43:25)

He would never mention them again. He would remit her sins, let them go as if they had never been committed.  Wash them over with his blood that flowed from his vast ocean of His love. Hurl them into an abyss never to be retrieved. Not because He ever forgets, but because he chooses to never remember them again.

He has removed our sins as far from us

as the east is from the west.
(Psalm 103:12)

She wanted to be made whole, but first had to be broken.

She needed forgiveness, but first had to know her sin.

She wanted the remission, but first came the humiliation.


Are we taken aback as the event unfolds in this room before us?

In walks a harlot with a beautiful alabaster jar filled with expensive perfume. She walks right in and kneels before the Lord and starts weeping. She is gushing uncontrollably all over his feet. So she lets down her beautiful hair and wipes his wet feet with it. She starts kissing his feet and finally she breaks the seal and pours out that expensive and rare ointment all over his feet.

We stand back in shocked silence for only so long. The audacity of this woman to boldly walk in weeping and washing and wiping. To carry on in such a fashion with kissing and anointing is too much. How could the Lord not know who this woman was and all the evil that she did?

Oh, but that is the beauty, He did know. And how He forgave.

"There is no pit so deep, that God's love is not deeper still." (Corrie Ten Boom, The Hiding Place)

I beg to be like the harlot. To see how great is my sin and to know the joy of my generous salvation.


She received a grand pardon and now poured out gratitude for the forgiveness she had been granted.

She poured out love, where there had been sin. 

She poured out adoration, where there had been anger.

She poured out joy, where there had been jealousy.

She poured out beauty, where there had been bitterness.




May we see the greatness of our sin, that we might see the magnitude of His forgiveness.

In our pious ways we want perfect performance, but until we see our utter wretchedness we will fail to see how we have been forgiven much.

We desire to love, but we need knowledge of our own sin before we can break open the seal of our own alabaster boxes of precious ointment in pure adoration.

"We need add nothing to what each of us already had, for the sum of the whole matter is - to the noblest and purest of us, what is wanting in order to love much, is not sin, but the knowledge of it." (The Pulpit Commentary)

In Christ, we are forgiven. 

Do we see it? This connection between the wretched sin and the saving faith; the forgiveness poured in and the adoration poured forth; the humiliation of the sinner and the exaltation of the Saviour.

To be lifted up to this place of love, we need to be lowered in the knowledge of our sin.

To love much, we need to awaken to see how wretched we are. 

And I'm not sure what is the most difficult. To see the greatness of our own sin, or extend this same forgiveness to others.


We who stand forgiven, are to extend the same to the ones who sin against us.

What I do know is that we are not able to do either on our own accord. The forgiveness that we have received in Christ, is the forgiveness that flows through us that we may forgive. 

And so, we continue to plead, "Lord Jesus, give me eyes to see my own sin. Give me your forgiveness."

"It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, a former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck. He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time. And suddenly it was all there – the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s pain-blanched face.  He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. “How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein.” He said. “To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!” His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.  Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him. I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I prayed, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.  As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me. And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself. (Corrie Ten Boom, 'The Hiding Place')

***

This is Day 8 for the series: 31 Days: Who am I? {In Christ} Who is the I AM. 

 Day 7 {Justified} ~ Day 9 {Called}

You will find the complete series as it updated here. 

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When You Need To Keep Preaching to Yourself {on the good days, the bad days, and on the eve of my birthday}

I really blew the last day of being 36.


It was a gorgeous autumn day and the golden beams filtered in beckoning me to believe mercies are new every morning, but exhaustion was so heavy in my weary bones, I wondered how in the world I was going to keep going.

At the end of the day, dirty laundry overflowed and the basket for clean folded clothes still sat empty on my bedroom floor. The only laundry done today was the towels my husband graciously folded when he came home from work, weary and worn, but still ready to serve.

I did manage to do a few dishes, bark orders, organize drawers to pack up a bag of clothes for children in Haiti, bathe my three year old, listen to my son read, referee sibling squabbles, and read page after page of 'The Hiding Place' while the children crafted cards on the living room floor. And I used the steam mop at the end of the day. Scrubbed the sticky, blackened, soiled spots off the white ceramic.

Boy, did I need to steam clean at the end of today.

Oh, I'm not talking about the kitchen floor. I needed some serious cleansing done, and no mop is ever going to touch the filth that sticks to the bottom of my soul.

By the time I get here, feelings of failure, loser, worst mom ever take right over.

Why can't I be more patient and not allow my tiredness to take over all sense of decency, pursue love and not sow discord, pause to breath in grace and not spew dragon-fire.


I keep wrestling with the old nature, while looking to the One who has made me new, whispering for His grace to get me through and make me more and more like Him in the process.

The only thing that keeps on cleansing me is the blood of Jesus. His continuous gracious work as He keeps on saving me from the wretched, poor, vile sinner that I am.

"My hope lives not because I am not a sinner, but because I am a sinner for whom Christ died; my trust is not that I am holy, but that being unholy, he is my righteousness. My faith rests not upon what I am, or shall be, or feel, or know, but in what Christ is, in what he has done, and in what he is now doing for me. On the lion of justice the fair maid of hope rides like a queen." ~Spurgeon 

I blew it like the dandelion seeds that scatter on the breeze spreading weeds of disharmony, instead of breathing in grace and sowing perfect love.

But, I'll mount up on wings of hope. 

Hope that only comes from the God of hope who will "fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope."

For when I am weak in the flesh, ride the waves of discouragement, wonder how on earth I am ever going to get through the day, and sin entangles and weighs down, I need to keep my eyes fixed on 'Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross.'


Look to Jesus, repent, confess, and hope. Drink deep of his overflowing grace and joy and peace.

Yesterday that I read these words but day after day I need them:

"Most of us have 'good days' -- when life pretty much goes along as we desire and we have no serious struggle with sin -- and 'bad days' -- when in one way or another we are conscious of struggling with sin all day long . . . On our good days we think God must surely be pleased with us and is smiling at us. We forget . . . that all are righteous deeds are like polluted garnets in the sight of God. (Isaiah 64:6). On our bad days we tend to think we have lost the favour of God because of our sin. We forget that he no longer counts our sin against us because Jesus has already born that sin in His body on the cross. 

This is not to say that we should not take our sin seriously. We do need to confess it and repent of it. But the greatest motivation for doing that is to reflect on the fact that Jesus bore those very sins you committed that day in His body on the cross, and God has forgiven you because Jesus was crushed for those sins. 

So in order to experience the subjective reality of our justification we must every day look outside of ourselves to Christ . . . 'preach the gospel to yourself everyday'. That is what we must learn to do if we are to enjoy the present reality of our justification. That is what Paul did two thousand years ago when he wrote, 'And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me' (Galatians 2:20)" ~ Jerry Bridges, "Who Am I?" 

And I keep preaching to myself.

His mercy is new every morning. 

I will wake up and celebrate not just a new year, but I will keep on giving thanks for the new life that I live by faith in the One who loved me enough to lay down His life for me.

Our Strong Tower in Times of Tragedy. {Remembering 9/11}

It was the time of year when the last of the Queen Anne's lace lingers at the side of the road. Tragedy struck and left us reeling. Towers crumbled to the ground.

And now, it's twelve years later.

It seems like a lifetime.

In fact, it has been the lifetime of my firstborn. I was leaned up against my headboard, letting down warm life-sustaining milk for my baby girl, partaking in this most basic nurturing of human life and listening to the morning news.

The normal reports of weather, morning rush-hour, and daily happenings were interrupted for heart-wrenching news. My ears couldn't believe what was took place at 8:46am and with the rest of the world I sat in horror as acts of terror claimed innocent lives.

As the horror continued all morning, and we watched and listened to the tragic things taking place at the twin towers and the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania where the one plane crashed down, we tried to carry on with the activities of the day. We continued on with our plans for the day to visit to my sister in college, but travelled with the somber cloud of the sickening realization of what had taken place.

Lives were claimed, families were shattered, fear of more terroristic attacks loomed, and the world screeched to a stand-still; almost stopped spinning, it seemed.

I held new life close to me all that day while others desperately looked for their loved ones, and screamed in the face of injustice at broken lives and shattered peace.

It's the war this generation has grown up with and their children and grand children will read about in history class.

But it's the lives of the people lost that we remember.

The world still cries for peace. Fights for it.

Oh, how do you say it without diminishing the lives of those who have sacrificed so much, but ultimately it's not war that will bring peace, but love.

A love that already won the battle over evil and sin and death.

On a cross that stands taller than any tower.

In a world warped by evil and undone by a serpent's deception according to the sovereign plan of a gracious God.

At Calvary where the sun stopped shining and light was shut out as He became sin that we might be rescued from darkness.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid."

And we keep looking to the Prince of Peace who knows our pain, our suffering, our tears. He knows what has been, what is, and what will be. He knows our sin, our shame, our sickness. He knows our 9/11s.

He is our Peace for the present, our Strong Tower for all times, our Rock to cling to when waves wash over us, our Hope for the hurting, our God of all grace for our grieving, the Way, the Truth and the Life!

Through Him we find our way through the wars, and terrors of life, through sin and death and hell. To the day when all will be restored and Peace will reign eternally.

"I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” 

And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end."

Today. twelve years later, in the waves of troubles, trials, and tragedy we remember we 

have a hope secure in the Strong One that sets our feet on high places and on the Rock that will 

never crumble.

Slowing to See the Beauty

I pull back the curtains and the morning appears and the snow is falling, flakes colliding into one another and clumping together and falling from the sky as if it's a race to reach the ground.

One by one, they crawl out of bed to start the day. Unlike the race to cover ground that is outside, it is just a slow and steady inside.

Life is like that sometimes.

We really can pull back from the flurry, the whirlwind that life can be, compelling us to cover ground.

We really can step back, find shelter and take time to find calm and simple even when we look out and see that the world pushes hard and says that is not good enough.

Either way, we will cover ground. But maybe, we will enjoy the moments of our days if we slow down to catch our breath and see the beauty that is all around us.

Because when we slow down to really see, we will see that it is not just about covering ground but seeing the One who caused the morning to appear and gives us shelter in the storm.



What are ways that you slow down to really see?

How to Move Forward When You Feel Stuck {Naming my Year: Proskartereo} {Part 2}

For part one . . . naming my years . . . you can go here

The beginning of a brand new year . . . 2013. And I still feel stuck. I struggle with knowing my purpose, with getting up some days and wondering about how to move on.

I look up a Greek word this year.

I name this year, 2013, proskarteréō.

I look it up  in Strongs and see it comes from two Greek words: prós and karteréō. 

Prós being a preposition of direction; forward to, that is, toward.

Karteréō meaning to be strong, to be steadfast, to endure. It carries the basic idea of persistence.

It is translated continue in English and is the word found in Colossians 4:2:

'Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving . . .'

Like everyone else I need to move forward. And I need, as Strongs defines it, 'to consistently [show] strength which prevails (in spite of difficulties); to endure (remain firm) . . .'

Kartereō is used of Moses in Hebrews 11:27, when ‘ . . . he endured as seeing him who is invisible.’ By faith, he was able to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt because he had communion with the invisible God. God spoke to Moses in the burning bush and Moses endured.

God desires that I commune with him. It is all about relationship. One of the ways that will deepen that relationship is prayer.

In fact, I find that proskarteréō  is used five times for the practice of prayer in the New Testament. (Acts 1:14, Acts 2:42, Acts 6:4, Rom 12:12, Col 4:2).

I must move forward, but I know I cannot do it on my own.

Is that why we are commanded to continue in prayer?

It is the power of God, His strength that enables me to move forward in faith.

Interesting that we are commanded to continue in prayer right after Paul exhorts and lays out ‘rules for Christian households.

“‘Continue in prayer’ - This was the apostle’s general advice to all; without this, neither wives, husbands, children, parents, servants, nor masters, could fulfill the duties which God, in their respective stations, required of them. “
Adam Clarke

In order to move forward this year in all that God has called me to, I see my desperate need to first be in communion with the One who created me and called me in the first place.

I wonder if I was to continue in prayer first, if this is my priority, than all that I am called to be and do, how much more the landscape of my life would transform.

I move forward to endure, move in a fixed direction ~ in communion with my Lord. And in that continuing I am to watch with eucharisteo ~ thanksgiving.