These Strange Ashes
The written word means a lot to me. I have a decade's worth of letters saved and rarely delete anything but junk emails. Friends come and go sometimes, but I like to remember that they were here and cared - at least at one point. ;)
Well, there's been a lot going on, a lot that's been pressed upon me lately and risked letting depression return (which is scary in and of itself - to say nothing of the causes.)
It's hard for me to admit when I need help. I don't like to bother people - even though I might need a voice of hope desperately.
The other day I remembered a note a friend had slipped me a while back when I was going through many of the same issues.
I rummaged through old books and drawers and managed to find it, re-read it a bit slower this time. One sentence in particular snagged on a split edge of my soul.
"Amidst all you're going through, He's right there loving you and carrying you through - and He always will be."
It was just a few hurried lines, but that note gave me hope for today, and every day.
Never underestimate the power of God burning inside of you. I doubt my friend crafted that sentence thinking it would rock my world - but it has.
I read that one line over and over and over again - why was it drawing me back?
"How many times have You heard me cry out, "God please take this." How many times have You given me strength to just keep breathing?" (Plumb - "Need You Now") Where are You, God? In all this broken, twisted mess of a world? Why are You doing this to me? How could You do this to me? Why do I feel so alone? You were supposed to stay with me!
"He's right there."
How could I not know it? How could I not believe it? "I will be with you wherever you go..." this isn't just the place where you dwell - but wherever your soul finds itself.
He will be there. Always.
"He's loving you."
You've heard it - "All things work together for good," "Don't worry, there's a purpose for everything." They're words from people who've never had to think that far.
But somehow, that one sentence had caught my attention.
"He's right there - loving you."
Did I really dare to wonder if this was love? How absurd! Then I found myself on the floor, shaking with the realization.
"Do you believe that I am loving you in this, through this?"
"I guess."
"You guess? Whatever happened to your dare, child?" He asks.
Oh. That. Why did I have to pick that word to live by, a yes-dare to all the hard things?
*sigh*
"Yes."
"Yes, I believe You are."
Could I, can I trust that the parched and cracked places are really the places of God's healing?
Just as Ann Voskamp penned the words, they flash through my mind:
" 'He promises to take us into the wilderness. He wants to be alone with us. Why? So He can speak tenderly to us...' Had I known God takes us into the wilderness not to abandon us - but to be alone with us? Wildernesses are not where God takes us to hurt us - but where He speaks to our hearts."
This is the place of seeing God and maybe all He's ever wanted is for us to really see Him, and know His heart.
But that's the problem. His heart is a heart of love and this is not a tree-hugging philo kind of love but the restless, heart-rending, raw form of agape. This is the heart that died a thousand deaths knowing that the giving away of your life is the only way to ever get it back.
"For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings..." (Phil. 3:8-10)
We have to know the hurt if we are to know the Healer. This too is His love.
I grabbed a pencil - this was something I needed to remember. I jot it down on my closet wall with all the other soul-cries:
"Amidst all I'm going through, You are right here loving me and carrying me through - and You always will be."
I want that truth etched on to my soul.
Sitting there in the dark could be the place where I feel Him closest.
It was Elisabeth Elliot who said it - "Of this one thing I am certain: God's story never ends with ashes."
This God has a thing for resurrections.
Well, there's been a lot going on, a lot that's been pressed upon me lately and risked letting depression return (which is scary in and of itself - to say nothing of the causes.)
It's hard for me to admit when I need help. I don't like to bother people - even though I might need a voice of hope desperately.
The other day I remembered a note a friend had slipped me a while back when I was going through many of the same issues.
I rummaged through old books and drawers and managed to find it, re-read it a bit slower this time. One sentence in particular snagged on a split edge of my soul.
"Amidst all you're going through, He's right there loving you and carrying you through - and He always will be."
It was just a few hurried lines, but that note gave me hope for today, and every day.
Never underestimate the power of God burning inside of you. I doubt my friend crafted that sentence thinking it would rock my world - but it has.
I read that one line over and over and over again - why was it drawing me back?
"How many times have You heard me cry out, "God please take this." How many times have You given me strength to just keep breathing?" (Plumb - "Need You Now") Where are You, God? In all this broken, twisted mess of a world? Why are You doing this to me? How could You do this to me? Why do I feel so alone? You were supposed to stay with me!
"He's right there."
How could I not know it? How could I not believe it? "I will be with you wherever you go..." this isn't just the place where you dwell - but wherever your soul finds itself.
He will be there. Always.
"He's loving you."
You've heard it - "All things work together for good," "Don't worry, there's a purpose for everything." They're words from people who've never had to think that far.
But somehow, that one sentence had caught my attention.
"He's right there - loving you."
Did I really dare to wonder if this was love? How absurd! Then I found myself on the floor, shaking with the realization.
"Do you believe that I am loving you in this, through this?"
"I guess."
"You guess? Whatever happened to your dare, child?" He asks.
Oh. That. Why did I have to pick that word to live by, a yes-dare to all the hard things?
*sigh*
"Yes."
"Yes, I believe You are."
Could I, can I trust that the parched and cracked places are really the places of God's healing?
Just as Ann Voskamp penned the words, they flash through my mind:
" 'He promises to take us into the wilderness. He wants to be alone with us. Why? So He can speak tenderly to us...' Had I known God takes us into the wilderness not to abandon us - but to be alone with us? Wildernesses are not where God takes us to hurt us - but where He speaks to our hearts."
This is the place of seeing God and maybe all He's ever wanted is for us to really see Him, and know His heart.
But that's the problem. His heart is a heart of love and this is not a tree-hugging philo kind of love but the restless, heart-rending, raw form of agape. This is the heart that died a thousand deaths knowing that the giving away of your life is the only way to ever get it back.
"For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish in order that I may gain Christ and be found in Him...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings..." (Phil. 3:8-10)
We have to know the hurt if we are to know the Healer. This too is His love.
I grabbed a pencil - this was something I needed to remember. I jot it down on my closet wall with all the other soul-cries:
"Amidst all I'm going through, You are right here loving me and carrying me through - and You always will be."
I want that truth etched on to my soul.
Sitting there in the dark could be the place where I feel Him closest.
It was Elisabeth Elliot who said it - "Of this one thing I am certain: God's story never ends with ashes."
This God has a thing for resurrections.
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