"Where feet may fail"

People say that you can see God in the simple things - a baby's smile, a beautiful sunrise, a lover's touch. And I believe that. But how do you come to know Him? When things were good, success abounding, I acknowledged God. I praised Him, gave Him the glory, all that good stuff we followers of Christ know we should do in times of plenty or want. Then when things were challenging, I continued to worship my God, to praise Him, to fix my eyes on Him and claim that He was all I needed, He was getting me through, and that He was the source of all my strength. But when things became unbearable, when the one thing I had placed above Him, the one thing I really believed I couldn't live without, the one thing that I had actually really placed my hope in, let me down, that's when I truly came to the end of myself and started to really see - and trust - God, to really know how magnificent and awesome and powerful and merciful He is. It's telling that, with so much else stripped away, I have come to know Him more intimately and that, after I've lost what many consider to be so much - that loss allowed by God - I trust Him more than I ever have. I'm still working on it, but the worship, the praise, the glory I give Him - they mean so much more to me now. He means so much more to me now. And my faith is stronger now than when "everything" was great. Interesting.

"You call me out upon the waters,

the great unknown where feet may fail.

And there I find You in the mystery,

in oceans deep, my faith will stand." Hillsong

The Great Physician: The doctor is in!

Let me ask you this: If your friend told you she had been hit by a car while training for an upcoming 5K and that, as a result, she couldn't stand on her leg without excruciating pain, what would you tell her? Ok, so now let's assume you're a sensible person (which I'm sure we all claim to be) and you tell your friend to get to the doctor's office right away. You may even offer to take her there yourself if you're able. Now, let's say she listens to you, goes to the doctor and he tells her that her leg is broken and she needs a cast. Your friend calls you and says, well, the doctor says I need a cast for my broken leg, but I need to use my leg, so I don't think I'm going to get the cast. As a sensible person - and a good friend - what would  you tell your friend next? Let me guess: in not so many words, you would tell her to hang up the phone, get her leg set and deal with it for as long as the doctor says. Right?

Now, let's say that after the prescribed amount of time, said friend has her cast removed. She calls you and says that, although the excruciating pain is gone and she only has occasional twinges of discomfort, the doctor has advised her that she cannot go back to training for several weeks, and that if she does, she will cause permanent damage that will ensure she never runs another 5K without a lot of pain and ongoing discomfort. Would you tell your friend to ignore her doctor's advice? That from what you figure, she's followed doctor's orders long enough, and that she deserves the joy of running a 5K. "I mean, the guy who hit you with his car is out there running 5Ks like crazy. You deserve some of your own."

Hmmm...I doubt it. Then why is it that many of us, even those who profess to follow Christ, relax our standards a little when the body part in question is the heart? People who haven't had the chance to heal - truly heal - from emotional devastation should not be encouraged to "pay it forward" by entertaining anything even remotely resembling a romantic relationship. It's just foolish. Foolish to think that because someone isn't breaking down every five seconds anymore, she's ready to go out and get back in the mix. In any way. The pain of a broken heart lasts so much longer than the initial despair, anger, hurt and other outward signs of the utter devastation it causes. And the repercussions of using that broken body part before it is fully mended are potentially much more far-reaching than running a 5K on a leg that hasn't set properly. You're not the only one who gets hurt - everybody in your life does.

As hard as it is at times, I am letting the Great Physician heal me, love me and make me feel precious, valued and beautiful before I let anybody throw his hat in the ring - even if he "just wants to get to know me."

"You walk with me through fire, and You heal all my disease..."

The blessing of isolation

I am getting a divorce. That statement has been rolling around in my head all day - not because I just realized it, but because I realized that, for me, until I write those words, it isn't real and I can't move on. So, I am getting a divorce. And, surprise of all surprises, I have decided to share what I've learned (and what I'm still learning) on this journey that far too many people have been on, are on, and will be on in the future.

Contrary to my nature, I will begin not with one of the first lessons I learned months ago, but with the most recent - one I have learned over the course of the past week:

One of the worst things I have experienced during this breakup is a terrible sense of isolation. I am a relational creature, you see, so when my most important human relationship fails, I am left feeling bereft, heartbroken, and most of all, isolated.

Surrounded by prayers and love, family and friends, I still found myself feeling, in my heart of hearts, that I had been set adrift, left hanging out to dry by friends who didn't know what someone in my situation needs. The truth is that, no longer a part of a loving couple, no longer a co-parent in a two-parent family, no longer a logical addition to the list for gatherings that include mothers, fathers and children I am drifting, but not because my friends don't know what I need - it's because they can't supply the most important thing I need. They can't fill that yawning void the end of my marriage has left in my heart and in my life. And, lo and behold, they're not supposed to.

The lesson I've learned in the last week is that, as much as I would have preferred that this cup would have passed me by, it didn't, and my feeling of isolation is a necessary part of this journey. As I grieve, heal and redefine my life, I need to keep my focus upward so I can stay extremely close to God. And I can't do that if I keep looking outward for comfort and answers. While He created me to need fellowship and human relationships, He created me to need Him above all else. And how glorious He has shown Himself to be through this by providing just the right people I need at just the right times, but especially by making sure that nobody else is available when it needs to be just my Father and me. He has shown me that I am never alone.

"In the storm, in the rain, through the good times and in the pain, You're always beside me."

Healing Day

Although I wrote the following poem several years ago, it wasn't until recently that I understood what it was really about. You see, when God inspired the words in me, I was in the most committed of relationships - I was married to the man of my dreams - and so, to my thinking, had no reason to write the words I did.

Then, in the way life has of knocking everything on its ear, the words suddenly had a very real, personal meaning to me. And not for the reason you may think, but because I realized that God had given me the words so that I might pull them out and allow them to minister to me at such a time as this. This latest trial of mine has opened my eyes to the truth that this poem was never about a man or a relationship. The poem is about fear. And the healing that comes when we let it go.

Healing Day

Alive, the sky,

with trails of light,

the air with morning dew,

erasing darkness 

of the night

and memories of you.

And with each ray

of morning sun,

my broken heart will mend

until each memory,

each one,

becomes nothing again.

But if the rain 

precedes the beams

of light that I await,

its healing drops

will blend with tears

that flow from the floodgates,

until there's nothing 

left of pain

that's all that's left of you.

The new day heals,

with sun or rain,

as light reveals the truth.