Young Ladies Christian Fellowship » Suffering

Strength That Is Not My Own

Ashleigh — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 07:00:57 +0000

The following was written and published at Heart and Home in March 2008, just six weeks after my Marine deployed to Iraq.

Listen.

Do you hear that?

Stillness. Complete quiet.

Both my boys are sound asleep. The first soft notes of an old Amy Grant song I loved as a little girl are beginning to fill the little computer nook I’m curled up in. The house is clean. The dishes are done. The washer and dryer have stopped for the night.

In a few minutes, it will be tomorrow. The beginning of another full day.

I know… I’ve not posted in over a week. I have emails from last week that I still haven’t responded to. But we are alive and well.

I have at least a handful of bloggie posts written in my head over the past week, but somehow none of them made it to the screen. The days here are so full of diapers, cooking, home-keeping, book reading, park trips, child training, projects for Daddy, coloring, gym-going, playing with trains, nursing… it seems there are hardly five minutes put together to spend doing the things that NEED to get done on the computer, let alone actually thinking enough to type. Add that to the fact that I don’t have a lap top right now and my desk top computer is upstairs… daily blogging? It just ain’t happenin’.

But, to be quite honest, there is another reason the “new post” screen has spent so much time open, yet blank, on my computer screen.

Every time I sit down in this desk chair and hold my fingers over the keyboard, staring at that blank screen, I get a shaky feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. I plan to whip out a funny kiddo-related anecdote, or upload a picture, or ramble about something silly. But the truth is… I just don’t feel silly.

Writing is a part of me, whether it be my own journal, long letters or emails, or this thing we call blogging. It’s always been an outlet. The deep areas of my heart and mind tend to push forward when I put pen to paper, or, you know, fingers to keyboard.

You see, I’ve been running around, living in a whirlwind these past six weeks. I guess I’m subconsciously thinking that if I live in a flurry of baby-world, church, home, family, friends… then I won’t have to think about John being gone. It won’t seem as real. The time will go by so quickly that I won’t even realize what is going on.

I tell myself that, yeah, this is kinda hard. We sure miss John. And life alone with the boys is a little chaotic at times. But, no matter what, it’s going to be a little crazy with two boys under two. That’s just normal life as a mom. I have such support from those around me–family nearby, friends who rally around me when I’ve had a crazy day. Just yesterday I had two friends, at two different times, look me in the eyes and ask how they could specifically pray for me this week. I can’t even tell you how that blessed my heart.

Knowing all this, I struggle to pinpoint exactly what “it” is that’s difficult, given that the day-to-day of being a mom is just normal and I have more support than many military wives. What is “it?”

But then… the evenings come. The times like this. When it is so quiet I can almost hear my own heart beating. Then I remember. My beloved is away. I’m here alone. And the time… oh, how it seems to stretch endlessly in front of me. I realize that the normal day-to-day isn’t “it.” It’s this feeling. The loneliness that threatens to suffocate me. The emotional distance from my beloved that I feel more and more with each passing day he’s away and he becomes less and less connected to our everyday life here.

But by the next morning, I’ve always managed to convince myself to just. keep. moving. Be strong. Don’t let it bowl me over. It’s not really that bad. Keep telling everyone that we’re doing good… we’re hanging in there. Must be strong. Must… be… strong…

A few evenings ago, since I once again didn’t know what to write, I was be-bopping around the blogosphere and visited a blog I hadn’t been to in a while. This friend-of-a-friend was in the midst of several weeks with her husband gone for work, and as I read her words, I suddenly just… lost it. I cried harder then, right there at my keyboard, than I had at any point in the past several months. Everything I’d been trying to push down the past couple weeks flooded my heart as the tears flooded my eyes.

I laid across my bed, crying out to God with tears streaming down my face… “I can’t be strong. I’m not brave…”

And I heard His voice say quietly – “I don’t expect you to be…”

As I lay with my face buried in my covers I felt His assurance begin to wash over me. His grace lifting me. It’s not about digging deeper. Pulling myself up by my bootstraps. Acting more spiritual. Or trying to muster the courage to face my trials…

It’s admitting there’s no way I can. It’s doing nothing, and realizing He’s already done it for me. It’s clinging to the Rock that is higher than I, and allowing His strength to hold me. To keep me from falling. to remove my fear. And to be my security.

The kind of strength that – powerful enough in and of itself – yet, is made even more perfect through my weakness.

Perfect strength – I like the sound of that!

No. I’m not strong. I can’t be. But He CAN. And He IS!

I suddenly realized it was okay to be weak. Which sure is a good thing, because that’s what I am right now. Perfect strength… my Jesus has abundant, perfect strength to hold me up in my weakness. And He says it is made perfect in this weakness of mine.

Talk about an opportunity to display His glory and power.

So how are we doing, you ask? I’m going to revise what I’ve been telling so many sweet ones who ask… Yes, we are doing well. We’re hanging in there. But here’s a tidbit more…

The truth is that I’m just clinging to Him with everything I’ve got in me. It’s a good thing His strength is so perfect, because I don’t have much in me. He’s holding me. Which means I’m actually just falling into His arms. And that is always the best place to be.

I have found a place where I can hide
It’s safe inside
Your arms of love…

Like a child who’s held throughout a storm
You keep me warm
In Your arms of love…

In The Midst of Trial

Chantel — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 01:01:37 +0000

Father, in the midst of Trial
Keep My heart secure.
Resting, trusting fully
In your Promsise sure.
Through the waters of affliction,
Deep, forboding though they be,
When my dearest friend’s forsake me
Keep my heart, my eyes on Thee.
The world may take from me all I own,
It may scorn me for my stand,
Yet, Father, draw me nearer
Lead me with Thy mighty hand.
Father, you know all my troubles,
Mold me in your perfect way
Let my heart be broken fully
That I will find in You my stay.

- Chantel Harding ‘05

It is finished

Lanier — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 19:13:10 +0000

It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the Temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit.” When He had said this, He breathed His last.

Luke 23: 44-46, NIV translation

photo copyright Philip Ivester 2009

Blessing from Suffering

YLCF — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 03:50:00 +0000

by Jennifer W.

For those of us who choose the road less traveled, our journey is through a harsh wilderness. This way is to the Tree of Life, following after the example of Christ. Most of us on this path experience obstacles along the way, but a few seem to suffer hardships and one setback after another through a good portion of their lives.

We may look at those who face an extremely challenging journey through life and wonder: why do they suffer so much? Why are they going through great trial and tribulation? What have they done to ‘deserve’ immense pain and adversity?

Our questions need not be left unanswered. We look to the Scriptures where we are shown that the righteous and wise Almighty Guide is directing the path of those in the midst of a hard journey with purpose. God is blessing His children through their suffering. Blessing? How can good come from pain and sorrow? God’s ways are certainly not like our own natural ways.

For whom the Lord loves, He chastens.

When someone is going through severe trial time and again, God is showing he loves this person. What caring father does not correct his children? What a joyful blessing it is to be loved enough by a Heavenly Father so that He tries us. (Prov. 3:11-12, James 1:2-4)

God will not try us more than we can bear.

It hurts when a person is tried – being polished, shaped, sharpened and refined by tools and fire. Is God too harsh to bring a person so near to a breaking point? No – He is merciful and just and will not give those He loves a trial greater than they can bear. Also, He will always provide a way to escape. (I Cor. 10:13)

All things work together for good.

Even though we may not understand how anything good could come from pain or sorrow experienced during times of trouble, we can be sure that all will work out for God’s glory in the end. A crown of life is in store for those who endure to the other side of the wilderness. (Rom. 8:28, II Tim. 4:7-8)

If we are following Jesus Christ, we are required to die with him so that we may gain the reward of life eternal, by God’s grace. Christ suffered so greatly in his time on the earth, even to death, but is now sitting at the right hand of the Father. We will also be rewarded for our self-denial and sacrifices. If we give up our lives to our Father now, we will gain eternal life in the time to come. (Matt. 10:39)

We can pray for and encourage our fellow-sojourners who seem to be fighting a tougher fight than we are, but we need not worry. We can be assured that those who are suffering from great and sore troubles are loved by God and have been given great strength (for their strength is made perfect in weakness). In the end, all things will work together for good. (II Cor. 12:9-10)

“Thou, which has shewed me great and sore [severe] troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth. Thou shalt increase my greatness, and comfort me on every side.“ -Psalm 71:20-21

Photo of the Judean Wilderness by Natalie Nyquist

Broken Dreams

Chantel — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 21:54:00 +0000

Author’s Note: I wrote this a few weeks after everything I thought I cared for in my life shattered, and I found myself alone, starting over, and hurting so much I didn’t know how to go on. I wrote it by faith then, for I could not see the beauty of new dreams, or hope of joy returned, or that the ache in my heart would ever lessen and the sting fade, but then, I chose to sing, to hold on, because He promised that sorrow would turn to joy…someday. Today, I look back, and it was a long and dark journey, and I may always carry a few little scars in my heart, but He did not fail. He brought more joy, more beauty, more than I ever could have hoped for and I see His hand.

It wasn’t His plan that I have a broken heart, but He knew what was best in the end. He gave me strength to let go, to face the shatteredness that was a result of my own choice, yes, but worked His plan over the mistakes, and made something beautiful from what seemed like brokenness. And it gives me hope to keep trusting the outworking of His will in my life. It may take time, but I’ll keep singing, keep trusting, keep believing that His way is perfect. Always perfect.

I saw my dearest dreams crumble, broken into a thousand pieces, and fall to the ground. They were worthless that way, and with trembling heart, I bent to try to gather the pieces back up and make sense of the emptiness that closed in around me.

For one small moment, I thought I was alone in the world. No one knew that what I lived for, what I had hoped for so long would be a reality, was now but a pile of rubbish. And perhaps… no one would care. But my tears, falling to the ground, unseen by any human eye, were not unseen by Him. He knew my grief, He saw my broken dreams, and He cared.

The dreams that each of us holds dear, the fragile things that our hearts long for, that we wait for all our lives, do shatter sometimes. All of us have tasted of the bitter sorrow that clutches the heart as those beautiful things we thought were within our reach tumbled to the ground, and all that was left was but a pile of broken pieces. This is no uncommon fate. Yet, there has not one thing, one tiniest of disappointments pained our hearts, but that His watchful eye has taken it in. He has put all of our tears into His bottle. He knows. He cares.

Are you tired of chasing pretty rainbows?
Are you tired of spinning round and round?
Wrap up all those shattered dreams of your life
And at the feet of Jesus, lay them down.

When I first looked up from my dreams, and with painful heart looked at the road ahead of me, I did not think I could go on. I could not see Him that day. It was all too dark, but He was right by my side. I couldn’t feel Him there, but He was holding me in his arms. I did not know if I could give up my broken dreams, so much a part of me they seemed. But He was waiting to take them, and even to give me the courage strength to let go.

But God is no arbitrary breaker of dreams. He sees each one of our hearts and desires. He knows our dreams better than we do, and He wants to give us the very best, much better than what we thought we wanted most of all. We cannot see His plan, but if we can learn to understand His purpose in pain, we have gained a blessing that is indeed rare.

In the breaking of our dreams, He wants to take us yet another step higher. He desires for us to trust Him with our hearts, but we hold on so tightly. We are afraid to let go, and let Him have what is dearest and nearest us. And He knows that unless we are broken first, we may never realize we need to let go.

Give them all, give them all, give them all to Jesus
Shattered dreams, wounded hearts, and broken joys.
Give them all, give them all, give them all to Jesus
And He will turn your sorrows into joy.

Yes, God is a Master at transformation. It is He who “healeth the broken in heart” (Psalms 147:3- KJV) And He is able to turn sorrow into joy.

When we give Him our dreams, He doesn’t just take away the broken pieces. Ah, no. He does much more than that.

When at last, I let go of the pieces I was holding on to so tightly, when I finally gave Him my dreams, my hope, my everything, He gathered them all up, and began to rebuild them into something more beautiful than I could ever imagine. If He had not allowed them to be shattered, I would never have learned to let Him be the one to make my dreams what they should be.

And so will He build for each one. We may not know or understand it at first, or even for a long while, but the day that He opens our eyes to see His working, it will all be clear. Then, we will understand the meaning of the blessing of pain.

He never said you only see sunshine,
He never said there would be no rain.
He only promised a heart full of singing
About the very thing that once brought pain.

It is not the promise of an easy pathway, nor of constant ’sunshine’ that will bring us the contentment and happiness to wait on Him to fulfill our dreams. It is the choice that we make, to see beyond the pain, and to trust His purpose. He has promised us strength to sing, even during the darkest moments, and this is the key to joy that is stronger, even than all our shattered dreams.

I do not know if the dreams I gave to God not long ago will ever be mine again. I cannot see ahead to know what the future holds. There are still tears in my eyes, and yet I can sing. I choose to sing, and to go on my journey, trusting that in His perfect time, my dreams- beyond my highest of expectations- will come true, someday.

My friend, He will build your dreams too, if you’ll let Him.

Suffering’s Door

YLCF — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 11:50:00 +0000

Author’s Note: I’ve followed the YLCF blog for some time now and have often been encouraged and edified by its content. It was an awful blow to hear of Natalie’s divorce when I did, partly because I only learned of it while going through a very painful time in my own family (one of my siblings was severely ill, but has now recovered–I am very thankful for that!). It was heartbreak on heartbreak, since I’ve grown to love the ladies of YLCF from afar. Suffering can bring blessings, too, though, and here is the poem I wrote in the midst of it all. I hope it blesses you!

My heart broke today.
I did the things I should.
I thought that things should stay
The way I called them good.

But God has other plans
They’re hard to comprehend—
My own ideas sans
For His count in the end.

And at this point I felt
The tears that stung and burnt
My life again to melt
In light of lessons learnt.

Is this the only way?
Must knowledge come with pain?
On altar bitters lay
To grow, to live, to gain?

Must life just spring from death?
Is there no sweet recourse—
Is only sorrow’s breath
The way to living force?

My back is sore and bent
My soul has shriveled dry,
My reason from me sent
My heart can only cry

“Oh God must I be slain?
Why cause me such a loss?
Oh please! Your Hand refrain
And put away this cross.”

He presses me to dust
Refines me in His fire
His answer, “Child, you must,
To win your heart’s desire.

You will not always die
Your heart will grow once more
The ways to glory lie
Through suffering’s open door.

Remember that your path
Is one that I have trod.
And in the aftermath
You’ll see your mighty God.”

So through the pain I press
My broken heart I give
My own self grow the less
That I the more may live.

And somehow there’s a goal
That God will not now tell,
This stretching of my soul
In spite of all—is well.

The Road of Lost Innocence

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 10:15:00 +0000

The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed A stronghold in times of trouble.For he who avenges blood is mindful of themHe does not forget the cry of the afflictedFor the needy shall not always be forgotten.And the hope of the poor shall not perish forever.- Psalm 9:9, 12, 18

Early fall is one of the busiest seasons for book releases, hence so many reviews lately here on YLCF. There’ve been so many books I was excited about and wanted to share with you; This, however, the final one for awhile, is most important. If I had to choose one book to review this entire year, it would probably have to be The Road of Lost Innocence by Somaly Mam. The message is too important, the need too urgent to be ignored. It is the “hidden horror” that I have written about before with Project Rescue, the International Justice Mission, and more.

Caution: The Road of Lost Innocence is written in a heart-wrenching, raw, unflinching manner and does not shy away from describing some of the horrific abuse that Somaly and countless thousands of other young girls have endured. Though I think it is critical for adults to be shaken out of their comfort zone–and this book has the power to sear one’s heart permanently–I would keep this book away from any reader under age 18, unless she was reading it with the constant oversight and guidance of a parent. That said, I think this kind of book–reality–needs to be read far more than fiction which gets far more graphic. This is real life for thousands of little girls. We can’t hide from that, and I think we need to be shaken up a bit if such will change the way we view this issue.

Born in Cambodia and orphaned at an early age, Somaly Mam, a Buddhist sex trade survivor, grew up never knowing her real name or birthday.

As a teenager, Somaly Mam was sold into prostitution and spent years in the brothels of Cambodia where she witnessed and experienced the full-blown horrors of the human sex trade – rape, torture, and nearly unfathomable abuse. After her eventual escape, she could not forget the young girls (some as young as 5) left behind in the brothels, and so she returned to serve them. The Road of Lost Innocence tells her personal story, inviting readers to become involved (or to continue involvement) in this war against an epic evil, a modern battle for “the least of these.”

For more on Somaly and her fight against human trafficking you can visit the Somaly Mam Foundation. “She has orchestrated raids on brothels and rescued sex workers, some as young as five and six; she has built shelters, started schools, and founded an organization that has so far saved more than four thousand women and children in Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, and Laos. Her memoir will leave you awestruck by her tenacity and courage and will renew your faith in the power of an individual to bring about change” (From the book synopsis).

You will cry, you will shudder, you will feel sick to your stomach–if you have the courage to let the truth enter your world. There are consequences to knowing the truth. When we know the truth, God holds us responsible to act on it…to order our lives around it. If you read this book you cannot ignore these girls’ need to be rescued and healed. What if it were your little sister or your daughter?

Somaly writes: “I don’t feel like I can change the world. I don’t even try. I only want to change this small life that I see standing in front of me, which is suffering. I want to change this small real thing that is the destiny of one little girl. And then another, and another, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself or sleep at night ” (The Road of Lost Innocence, pages 128, 129).

Obviously these girls need help. But God does not need any one of us. This post is not an attempted guilt trip to prod readers to help. On the contrary, to be part of the hand of God to these, the least of these is what Christianity is all about (James 1:27) and it is both an honor and a privilege to be involved. I am blessed to be able to help and want as many of you as possible to get that same opportunity.

Through the Somaly Mam Foundation you can purchase the book, handmade crafts made by rescued girls, and become a member of the foundation for as little as $2 a month. They want everyone to be able to help and remind us that every little bit makes a difference.

China and the Olympics

YLCF — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 14:15:00 +0000

As Americans who greatly enjoy our freedoms, we cannot even fathom the horrible abuse of human rights that daily goes on in China.

When you watch the Olympic games, remember that this competition in the spirit of freedom is being hosted by a government of oppression and tyranny. When you see the Olympic village, remember that just a few blocks away, people are being persecuted for their beliefs.

Remember the courageous woman whose head was banged against the ground until she was almost unconscious because she hosted a Vacation Bible School.
Remember the 74 year-old prisoner whose legs were broken for leading other inmates to Christ.
Remember the 16 Catholic nuns who were beaten until they had broken bones, extensive hemorrhaging and serious injuries, as their state sanctioned church was bulldozed.
Remember the 34 year-old house church leader who endured electric shock torture, forcing him to “confess” his “illegal business practices” because he printed and freely gave away Christian literature.
Remember the 34 year-old woman who was imprisoned and beaten by the Public Security Bureau for distributing Bibles and tracts. She died the following day “of natural causes.” A PSB officer secretly told a relative that it was obvious she was beaten to death. Her husband and four year-old son miss her greatly.
Remember the hundreds of thousands of Christians annually who are sentenced to “re-education through labor” (abusive work camps).

For all of the Christians who read this letter, please pray for your brothers and sisters who are suffering simply because they choose to worship Jesus Christ (more information at Voice of the Martyrs or China Aid).

What you will see on television is not the real China. Remember that there are people suffering there whose stories are not being told. May the Olympics remind us to stand with the persecuted in China.

Sarah Ferraro lives with her parents and eight younger siblings in the great Midwest. Her life goal is to win Christ and know Him. She enjoys homeschooling and playing violin.This piece was originally published in the Jacksonville Courier on August 21.

Editor’s Note: All stories mentioned are from various issues of the Voice of the Martyrs newsletter. Some are also available online in places such as this telecast and this report. See full coverage here. Another good piece on the Olympics is here.
Update: Another great post on the subject is here at one of Natalie’s favorie blogs: Koinonia.

You Were There

Chantel — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 10:26:00 +0000

I have been reviewing life, the past few years of my life, and tracing God’s faithfulness to me at every step of the way. Truly, all that I am, all that I have, all that I hope to be I owe to His faithfulness to me in the past, and in the face of uncertain days, I rest my heart on the promise of His faithfulness in the future.

In my reviewing of these past years, I came across a poem I wrote during one of the most painful times of my life. It isn’t good poetry, but it was written after a moment when I caught a glimpse of His goodness in a very special way, and the realization of His faithfulness, the realization that He is always with me, meant much to my heart right then.

It’s taking time to go back and view our ebenezers, to count our blessings and to see His faithfulness that gives us strength and courage. I want to share some of these ebenezers, share some of God’s faithfulness with you, so that you, too, might take courage.

In the darkness of the night
I saw your hand.
In the midst of the storm
I heard your voice.
When I thought I was all alone,
You were there.

You knew the answers
To the questions in my heart.
You understood it all
When I had no words to explain.

In face of my pain
I saw your hand
In the middle of my sorrow
I heard your voice

I can trust you with my heart,
You understand every part
When I thought I was alone
You were there.

Praise in Trials

Natalie Nyquist — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 13:15:00 +0000

The Lord may not definitely have planned that this should overtake me, but He has most certainly permitted it. Therefore though it were an attack of an enemy, by the time it reaches me, it has the Lord’s permission and therefore all is well. He will make it work together with all life’s experiences for good. – C. H. Welch

Praise can heighten your awareness that distressing circumstances are God’s blessings in disguise. Your trials rip away the flimsy fabric of your self-sufficiency. This makes room for God’s spirit to weave into your life a true and solid confidence–the kind of confidence that Paul expressed in Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” – Ruth Myers, 31 Days of Praise, 124

Man needs difficulties

Natalie Nyquist — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 11:20:00 +0000

Quotations from a treasure of a book I discovered…

You know as well as I there’s more…there’s always one more scene no matter. - Archibald McLeish

In the last resort it is highly improbably that there could ever be a therapy which gets rid of all difficulties. Man needs difficulties; they are necessary for health. - Carl Jung

Die before you die. There is no chance after. - C. S. Lewis

From Pollyanna

Elisabeth — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 15:57:00 +0000

Check out Elisabeth’s latest article on a response to suffering.

Embrace the Cross

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 21 May 2008 12:00:00 +0000

Our five year old son, Ezra is into making crosses this year. Paper and glue, sticks and twine, scraps of boards and nails; he uses whatever materials are at hand at the moment. I admire his creativity, and sometimes I am even called upon to help him get a nail started in just the right place. The other day, he was wanting Ben to help him pound a couple of nails into my bedroom wall in order to hang one of his crosses there for me.

I knew the question was coming.

“Do you like it, Mama?”

Of course I assured him that I like it very much. Truly, nothing delights my mother-heart more than seeing the little seedlings of faith take root and flourish in my children. Ezra knows that the crosses in our home are here to remind us about Jesus.

I haven’t yet tried to explain to Ezra the call to “Take up your cross and follow.” Not in so many words. Little boys can get some mighty quirky, albeit amusing, ideas when you try to explain theology to them. But in small ways, we have begun to pave the way for him to understand. We have impressed on our boys the all importance of obedience; both to us, their parents, and to God’s Word. Little things—”Don’t fuss about being uncomfortable;” “Don’t cry if you get shampoo in your eyes;” “Eat the food on your plate without complaint;” “Drop whatever you are doing and come when I call”—are laying the foundation for obedience to that higher call of their King: “If any man would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.” Someday, they will understand.

I can’t tell you how many times, when commanding my little boys to do a thing without complaint, I have been uncomfortably convicted that my attitude was not any better than theirs. I can tell you that, on occasion, when I was fuming about something, one or the other of them has asked me, “Mama, what you’re fussing ‘bout?” And I knew I was guilty as charged. Children don’t let you get away with anything!

When Ezra was wanting to hang his cross on our bedroom wall, I was lying in bed. Although I had sense enough not to say so, my initial reaction to his gift was, “Do I have to have that here, now?” In all honesty, it is not a pretty cross. It is less than rustic. It is rough with splinters and grimy with dirt. But I knew better than to hurt Ezra’s feelings. At the same time, I had to acknowledge to myself that this grudging, “Must I?” was exactly my reaction to the circumstances keeping me abed.

You see, I am one who loves to be working, to always be doing. If I happen to not feel real great, I usually just keep on anyway. I see no sense in taking a nap when I have things to do; no sense in being wimpy if I can keep going. Every few years, to remind me that I am finite, God lets me get sick: really sick. Sick enough that I spend days, weeks, months, in bed, not doing much of anything. This was one of those times.

For one who likes to always be “doing,” this is tough. Tasks so simple that I don’t normally consider the amount of energy that I expend in the dong of them: sweeping the floor, brushing my teeth, milking the cow, getting out of bed, reading stories to my children, thinking, keeping meals on the table, keeping food in my stomach, going for a walk, taking a shower: suddenly seem monstrously impossible. All of the things I would like to do—the books I want to write, the horses I want to break, the sewing projects I planned to complete—lie undone, completely out of reach of my non-existent energy. I am tempted to complain about my cross: “Not here, Lord, not now…”

This time, my illness carries enough dread over the outcome to halt an elephant in his tracks. It carries enough potential for sorrow and suffering that it is nearly as difficult for me to contemplate as it is for me to get my body out of bed. It is a daily battle to survive; it is a daily battle to trust.

In the fight for survival, I tell myself each day: “Only one thing.” I try to avoid multi-tasking if at all possible. One load of laundry. One batch of cookies. One kettle of soup. I can usually stretch my small bit of strength far enough to get one thing done, but if I let myself start a lot of things, I will probably end up leaving a lot of things unfinished.

In the battle to trust, I have also set myself a single, simple goal. To every day acknowledge to my Father, “O Lord, Thou knowest.” It is not so much the fear of pain that weakens me, but the unknown interval of waiting lying between the present; when I do not know what will come; and the future; when what He knows will come to pass; that drags me down. This one small statement is for me an act of placing all my fears, all my rebelliousness, all my impatience, all my weakness, all my hopes, all my plans, all my future, in His hands. In this I find the peace I need to face the unknown. It may not stop my stomach’s churning, but it stills my restlessness and quiets my heart. And, for now, that is enough. This, too, shall pass.

If He gives me the piercing cup of pain, He will also give me grace to drink it to the bitter depths. If He gives instead a cup of joy, I want no aftertaste of useless fretting to spoil the sweetness of His mercy. So I lie in bed, and sometimes I look up at Ezra’s cross. No, it is not what I would have chosen, neither the decor nor being bedridden. But it is where God has put me right now, the circumstances He has placed upon me. Just as it was my duty as a mother to gladly accept my son’s gift, so it is my duty to embrace this cross. Wholeheartedly.

Hold us in stillness through the age-long minute
While Thou art silent, and the winds are shrill.
Can the boat sink, while Thou, dear Lord, art in it?
Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?
Amy Carmichael

- by Ruth Wiechmann

How a Soul Grows Through Loss

Natalie Nyquist — Wed, 07 May 2008 12:30:00 +0000

All people suffer loss. Being alive means suffering loss. Sometimes the loss is natural, predictable, and even reversible. It occurs at regular intervals, like the seasons. We experience the loss, but after days or months of discomfort we recover and resume life as usual, the life that we wanted and expected…But there is another kind of loss…this kind of loss has more devastating results and is irreversible.

Such loss includes terminal illness, disability, divorce, rape, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mental illness…if normal, natural, reversible loss is like a broken limb, then catastrophic loss is like an amputation. The results are permanent, the impact incalculable, the consequences cumulative. Each new day forces one to face some new and devastating dimension of the loss. It creates a whole new context for one’s life…

I saw a vast darkness closing in on me. I was terrified by that darkness. I wanted to keep running after the sun, though I knew that it was futile. So I lost all hope, collapsed on the ground, and fell into despair. I thought at that moment that I would live in darkness forever. I felt absolute terror in my soul.

Later my sister told me that the quickest way for anyone to reach the sun and the light of day is not to run west, chasing after the setting sun, but to head east, plunging into the darkness until one comes to the sunrise.

I discovered in that moment that I had the power to choose the direction my life would head, even if the only choice open to me, at least initially, was either to run from the loss or face it as best I could. Since I knew that darkness was inevitable and unavoidable, I decided from that point on to walk into the darkness rather than try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me on a journey where ever it would lead, and to allow myself to be transformed by my suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it. I chose to turn toward the pain, however falteringly, and to yield to the loss, though I had no idea at the time what that would mean.

- Excerpted from A Grace Disguised by Jim Sittser

What God Can Do With A Broken Heart

Chantel — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 21:09:00 +0000

The pain of a broken heart is real pain. It is not an imaginary feeling, but something that can affect every part of our life, if we let it. Sometimes the darkness seems to press so close, and the tears seem like they will never cease. It all seems hopeless, but it doesn’t have to be, for there is one that knows how to heal even a broken heart.

It is a wonder what God can do with a broken heart, if He gets all the pieces. -Samuel Chadwick

In the face of pain and heart brokenness, don’t be discouraged. Don’t try to act like you have it all together, when you really don’t. Instead, just give God the pieces. He’s the Master Designer, and He can build out of the most shattered heart, a thing of beauty, if we will only let Him do it.

Give Him the broken pieces, the faded dreams, the disappointed hopes. Give Him all. Someday, looking back, we will see that even this broken road led us to Him.

Our heart makes all the difference

Natalie Nyquist — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 20:07:00 +0000

I came across a quote the other day that stopped me in my tracks:

Suffering always changes us, but it does not necessarily change us for the better.

- John Ortberg, The Life You’ve Always Wanted

Though we wish it were not so, it is true. The question then becomes, “What are we going to do when suffering comes?” If it does not automatically change us to be more like Christ, what else is necessary?

I believe the answer is found in Paul’s words. Could it be that one part is to rejoice in them? Romans 8 speaks of the necessity of suffering. Food for thought…

What About Me?

Natalie Nyquist — Mon, 25 Feb 2008 21:26:00 +0000

What about the daughters whose fathers never wanted them and abandoned them before they were even born? Like me. - Rachel

Dear Rachel,

Thank you so much for asking this question. It is one that is burning within the hearts of so many women, young and old alike.

How I wish I could be right beside you and listen to your heart…and your story! I would give you a big hug and whisper in your ear what my Heavenly Father has taught me and so many of my friends.

Rachel, you may have been abandoned, but you were never forgotten. Rachel, you may have been forsaken, but you were always loved. Rachel, you may have been unwanted, but you were always desired.

The very One who knit you together in your mother’s womb, who gave you your first breath of life is the one who created the sunshine to filter into your bed as a baby and tickle you awake. He delights in you this very moment. (“For the LORD your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With His love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs” – Zephaniah 3:17.)

You are His child much more than you are your biological father’s child. Your Father has a purpose and plan for you. He didn’t just create your body. He created your emotions and desires, your talents and passions. And He loves you. Especially if you have accepted, Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, you have every right to call Him Father! It is for you, Rachel, to allow your heart to receive His Fatherly Love.

The Holy Scriptures are replete with examples of our Creator as our loving Father. He even asks us to converse with him daily as we would our earthly father. Just think of the Lord’s Prayer. He commands us to acknowledge him as “Our Father.” We are to follow the example of Jesus. In the times of great distress and separation, such as while He was on the cross, He cried out “Abba, Father” which is the equivalent of you or me, Rachel, saying “Daddy, Daddy”! Don’t be afraid to call on your real Daddy!

You know, there was a young lady who found herself in a similar situation to yours. She was both fatherless and motherless. Her life illustrates the truth of God as our Heavenly Father better than I ever could. The story of Esther is real and authentic. Rachel, as you read about her life, don’t think of it so much as an ancient Cinderella story. Think of it more as your story, your destiny!

In all this heartache, God will be your father, Rachel! He will also be faithful to provide someone to be your “father figure.” It may be one person, a relative like Mordecai, or someone in your Church, even an older brother, or it may be various people that the Lord sends in to your life at just the right time. One might be there to give you advice, another to protect you, another to lift you up when the going gets tough.

Don’t reject those that the Lord wants to use in your life. Let him pour out His mercy and love on you from his father-heart just as He did in the life of Esther. He is faithful to fulfill His promises, and care for his daughters, “And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpillar, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you” (Joel 2:25).

- by Elysse Barrett

On Waiting – Part 3 of 3

Chantel — Mon, 18 Feb 2008 07:21:00 +0000

Waiting. It has it’s moments of deepest pain. It can be a lonely road, but we do not walk alone. He is there. He knows, and He has a plan more beautiful than we can understand being unfolded, even through this. He asks us to Trust Him. And to wait with an attitude of peace and joyfulness that “He doeth all things well”. But there is even more to waiting than just waiting.

To those that God has called to wait, He calls for them to rest their hopes and dreams to His hands. There is peace in doing this. But, to wait, does not mean to do nothing. God means for our hands to be busy, and our hearts filled with serving Him, where we can, where we are, with what is right within our reach.

We don’t have to go far to find that we can be useful. Look around you. What do you see? What do I see?

You might not feel you have much to offer. Perhaps you feel your talents are small, and of little value. Let God use you anyway, and start with what is right in front of you.

As time went on, and my journey of waiting stretched into months, my days slipped by with little to show– or so I thought. Looking back, I see a myriad of moments gained and moments waisted, not because there was nothing to do, but because I didn’t see it.

God puts into each one of our pathway- waiting or not- opportunities that we can use, or loose. They aren’t always big things. Often they are small indeed, and that is why we miss them. But they are there, every day, waiting for us to make the most out of them.

Five Children were my obvious opportunity those first few years. Five pairs of eyes that watched my steps, and followed my example. Five who wanted little more than for me to be their friend, and enter into their joys and sorrows. Each day I realized more and more what weight this opportunity held.

But there were not so obvious ones too. Letters, words, smiles, and little acts that nearly no one would notice. Those were opportunities too.

Each one of us has opportunities. You may not see them at first, but look for yours, and pour your heart into those things. They may seem tiny and not important, but do them anyway. Don’t worry that they are small, don’t worry that you can’t do as well as another would. Do your best, and God does the rest. To do nothing is to loose much.

Improve the talents God has given you. Make wise use of your time- a talent that everyone of us has, no matter who we are.

Idle hands, Idle minds leave room for the Devil to work out his destroying influences of despair and discouragement.

While you wait for God to open the door to your dreams, take up the work that lies nearest to you. Do it faithfully, and do it cheerfully. Take delight in doing what He puts in your pathway, no matter how small. It may be, while you are busy waiting, that God will lead you to places beyond your wildest dreams, and highest expectations.

Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Psa 37:4

That is a promise meant for each one of us. Believe it, and live it.

Photograph (c) Chantel Harding

The One Who Called

Natalie Nyquist — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 12:00:00 +0000

Note: This was written during a time(this past spring and early summer) when the Lord was taking my family through a great trial. It is a picture of my spiritual walk with Him before and during the trial.

“Come, follow me,” the Master called to Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John. Immediately they left their nets and boats and followed Him. “Follow me,” He called out to Matthew the tax collector. Immediately, he left his collecting booth and ran after the Master.

“Come, and follow me,” The Master called out to Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus. Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas Iscariot were also called. All twelve men left all they had and all that they were to follow the One who had called them. They did not know where the path would lead them. Sometimes it was bright and sunny; at other times it was dark and stormy. Still they pressed on; following the One who had called them.

“Come, follow me,” my Master says to me. The road ahead looked bright and sunny with no clouds, no rain in sight. Enthusiastically I followed close behind, not wanting Him to get too far ahead. “This is wonderful,” I thought. “I could do this for the rest of my life.”

“Follow me,” the Master calls again. The road ahead was covered by clouds and rain. It wasn’t so easy this time, but I took His hand and began to walk down an unknown, wet path. This road was full of curves and I never knew which one would lead me back to my familiar sunny path. Still I followed on, pressing closer to the One who had called.

“Come and follow me,” the Master called once more. The road ahead was pitch black, with twists and turns every which way. I couldn’t see the end. I was barely out of the cloudy road and now He wants me to walk on this road?! I reached out my hand and held on to His. What security is found as I hold His hand. We started off on this dark path. I grew frightened, but my Master whispered, “I will never leave you or forsake you. Trust Me.”

So here I am walking down a dark, unfamiliar path with no end in sight. As I walk I press closer to the Master who’s leading me along. No matter what lies around the next bend I will press on, following the One who called.

- by Allison Parker
You can contact Allison through e-mail at: aloha819 at comcast dot net

Rain on the Earth

Elisabeth — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 18:28:00 +0000

It was just like God – when Thursday night came and I finally had a little time to feel a twinge of homesickness – to prompt my friend Jan to call. I can’t tell you how many times I talk with friends and realize that I would do much more good by just shutting my mouth, listening,and praying. But this time, it appears, the Holy Spirit decided to choose me from His shelf-full of tools. I know that as I talked with her, I felt God talking to my heart.

Jan is definitely walking in a tradition as old as Job: “the dark night of the soul.” As long as I’ve known her, she’s hardly known which end is up: where God is, and what He is doing with her.

“He will come to us,” the Bible promises, “as the rain that waters the earth.” But the rain doesn’t always come, especially not here in this Land. It only comes when He sends it…and (it’s clear from the Bible) He only sends it when we’re obeying Him. If we’re not obeying Him, He sends us right out of the Land. But if He sends us out of the Land, then He “devises means,” II Samuel tells us, so that the banished one will not be an outcast from Him. And when we come back, He sends the rain. So yes, we can be sure that He will come to us.

But even if there isn’t any sin involved, He comes (I am learning) only when He comes. And not before. Meanwhile, we wonder where in the world He is, and whether He even remembers us! The Israelites wandering in the wilderness may have wondered the same thing, but the Bible assures us that He was right there with them, and “in every affliction, He was afflicted.” Now that He’s in our hearts, how much more fully does He share every moment of our painful wait for His help! He knows, in a way that no one ever can, just how it feels. And since that’s the case (I mused to Jan), how motivated He must be to get you and Himself out of the wilderness.

I don’t know about you, but when I find that God is silent on a subject, I want to harden my heart to Him. “Fine, then!” I say, “If You won’t talk about it, then I won’t either.” But a note of hope from Psalm 10 starts nudging that plan away. “Jehovah, thou hast heard the desire of the meek,” it says. Okay, He knows. “Thou wilt prepare their heart,” it continues. Okay, my now-hard heart can be ready. “Thou wilt cause thine ear to hear,” it concludes. There really will be an answer!

I have a feeling that continuing to let Him know my desires, and continuing to listen to His Word (which never returns void) are the rains He’s sending to soften my heart. And make it ready…for Him to come.

And let us know, let us follow on to know Jehovah:
His going forth is sure as the morning;
and he will come unto us as the rain,
as the latter rain that watereth the earth.

- by Elisabeth A.