Is Jesus Really Enough?

Today’s post is brought you by Stephanie Perry Brock. Over the past few years, although we have different lives, we’ve shared similar situations. We are very different from each other in personality and giftings, but we compliment each other. She’s always teaching me something new. She is an amazing mom to four beautiful children, and a wonderful wife to her husband Justin (who I call my twin 😆). I am so proud of her. She has not had an easy road to walk with having HG with ebery pregnancy and having big life changes every year. She is a gift to me and I am grateful for her writing this post… To follow more from her please check out her site: http://www.storiesofhisgrace.com

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The room was dark, just illuminated emergency exit sign. All you could hear was the gentle hum of the engines as the ship gently rocked from side to side. I felt devastated, alone, and scared.

I was about to leave my floating home. I had 48 hours then I’d be traveling back stateside. I just lost my grandfather. The ship was docked in Libya and my departure was time sensitive. Leave now… or stay through till your commitment ended (another 8months). 

Before I even had the chance to decide the personnel leaders on board decided for me. I was going home. I was about to leave my new comfort zone and community of over 400 friends and believers. I‘d been in a serious relationship but we were no longer together. I sat there wondering why God was stripping me of everything. Then the lord spoke to my heart. “Steph, I am enough” I made a commitment right there that whatever came my way, good or bad I knew Jesus was enough.

That took place seven years ago. Since then the Lord has immensely blessed me and gave me a second chance at the relationship. We’ve been married five years now and have four beautiful kids. All under four. We have vehicles to drive, a house, and a wonderful community where we live. But life is changing, shifting and Lord is again taking things away and I’ve been questioning…

You see seven weeks ago today, my dad was in a serious car crash. And 6 weeks ago today he passed into eternity. My husband had already signed up for a certificate course for aviation at a school just down the road from my parents. Long stories short… We put our house on the market, we’ve sold and donated more than 50% of all our belongings and are relocating to Florida from Delaware. Again all very sudden. But now it’s different, it’s harder. We’re giving up our home to move back into my mom’s house. My husband’s last day of work is in three weeks. We have family up here and a wonderful church community. The house hasn’t sold. Work isn’t lined up. Is Jesus enough?

Hebrew 1 shares the supremacy of God’s Son. Here are verses 1-4:

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but 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 work of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.”

Did you get all that? God the Father gave us Jesus to be his messenger directly to us! Jesus is:

  1. The heir of all things!
  2. The one whom God created the word
  3. The radiance of the glory of God
  4. The exact imprint of God the Father
  5. He upholds the universe by his power!
  6. He is the purification of sin
  7. He’s seated at the right hand of the Father
  8. He is superior than angels
  9. His name is more excellent than the angels

This passage just blows me away. I get so consumed by the here at now, so attached to my earthly relationships and possessions I lose sight of how awesome our God really is. Earthly possessions are not wrong, they are a blessing, but when they become what defines us, makes us feel safe, and start to replace the God who holds the universe, that is very wrong. It’ll make us scared, lonely and devastated. If I choose to fix my eyes on who Christ is, and no what I’m going through. Jesus is so much more than enough!
“Praise be to God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never parish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you,” 1 Peter 1:3-4

“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.” Romans 15:13


 

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Sitting In Silence

I’m back in the state where I lost my Dad. My family and I had to drive passed where my Dad’s accident was as we evacuated our home. We had time to board up our house, but we left everything behind except a few belongings. We have no idea what hurricane Irma will do. 
But, to be honest, I feel like I’ve already been hit by a category 5 storm. I feel like my family has been hit by a category 5 storm. 
I see that storm and I cry because that “catastrophic damage” is how my heart feels. Our family lost our rock, our leader, our protector and provider. Yes, God is all those things, but my Dad was our human representations of those things. 

 

I know already that this storm will change everyone’s life in South Florida. For some it may be a few weeks for other it could be forever, but it will not be the same. 
The same is true for my family. Our lives will never be the same. 
I used to think, wow we are really fortunate, nothing really bad has happened to our family. It was always someone else. All that changed on July 16th when my Dad loses control of his car and then passed on July 23rd.
When I hear of what Harvey and Irma have taken and destroyed, I think of the pain of losing my Dad. But these hurricanes remind me that’s a “fatality” is not just any fatality any more. That fatality is someone’s family member. Their tears are my tears. That new life change is my new life change. It’s not just “those people” anymore, it’s me. 

What I mean to express is that I feel their pain. I hurt for them. Those “Islands in the Caribbean” are my island. My heart is so heavy on so many levels. I feel crushed beneath the weight of grief. I am hurting for those who are hurting and I am hurting myself. 
Maybe that’s what is supposed to happen in life. I keep having to remind myself of what Jesus went through. I once heard a man say something a long the lines of “Had God not sent His son to suffer, I don’t know that I could ever resonate with God the Father” 


This life will bring troubles. It will break your heart time and time again. It will crush you. It will make you want to give up. It will shake you. It will come with gusts that rip away precious things and precious people from your life. 
Yet, God is not a cookie cutter God. In a world of billions with different languages, different personalities, different gifting, God knows each one of us. He knows you. He knows me. He knows our pain. He doesn’t have an automated reply. He relates with pain, loss, devastation and grief. He’s been through it. He doesn’t give you cookie cutter responses like: “Count it all joy”, or “All things work together for good”. I know those words are inspired by God, and I do believe we hold on to that, but in the midst of the storm, I believe that often God sits with us in silence, until we are ready to wrestle through our questions, hurts and doubts. 
There are times life leaves us speechless. Staring at the storms approaching leaves one mesmerized and frightened- in silence. In the same way, staring at my Dad in a coma, whose body was so healthy and strong, left me with no words- only tears. 
But in the speechless times of life, I believe God is sitting right beside us. People who know pain, know that sometimes all a hurting person needs is to know that someone is with us. 
I had an amazing roommate for a period of time. When we were both home, it wouldn’t be uncommon to sit in the same room in silence. We didn’t need to talk, but we wanted each other’s company. It was comforting. When my Dad was in the hospital a family friend came and sat with us. He didn’t say much but he was there. It brought comfort. In the same way, I imagine God sitting beside me and those hurting. 
To be honest, most of the time, I don’t know how to pray or what to say. 
I recently came across Job 2:13, “Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was”

 

So although I don’t understand so much of what is happening, I was reminded of Isaiah 53 (NLT). Which helps me remember that although my vision feels blurred by grief (Ps 6:7), Jesus knows. Jesus understands. He lived it. He suffered through life, and He is with me. And He is with each person who is hurting. 
“Who has believed our message? To whom has the Lord revealed his powerful arm?

2 My servant grew up in the Lord’s presence like a tender green shoot, like a root in dry ground. There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him.

3 He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.

4 Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins!

5  But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed.

6 All of us, like sheep, have strayed away. We have left God’s paths to follow our own.
Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.

7  He was oppressed and treated harshly, yet he never said a word. He was led like a lamb to the slaughter. And as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth.

8  Unjustly condemned, he was led away. No one cared that he died without descendants, that his life was cut short in midstream. But he was struck down for the rebellion of my people.

9 He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone. But he was buried like a criminal; he was put in a rich man’s grave.

10 But it was the Lord’s good plan to crush him and cause him grief. Yet when his life is made an offering for sin, he will have many descendants. He will enjoy a long life, and the Lord’s good plan will prosper in his hands.

11 When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish, he will be satisfied. And because of his experience, my righteous servant will make it possible for many to be counted righteous, for he will bear all their sins.

12 I will give him the honors of a victorious soldier, because he exposed himself to death. He was counted among the rebels. He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.

Maybe we are made for suffering because suffering brings compassion, when surrender it to God. 
Time and time again it says Jesus was moved to compassion. And in Psalm 46:10 It says, “Be still and know that I am God” it doesn’t say be still and talk. It just says be still… Maybe suffering is the tool God allows to help us be still…

***These are just some of my thoughts. Writing helps me process… Thank you for letting me have an outlet to process… 


Saying Yes, When All I Want To Say Is No.

I hate the word no. Maybe because I don’t understand why I’ve heard it so much, at least in the past year and a half.
Over and over again, I’ve prayed for different issues and the answer that keeps coming back is No.

  • No, that door is closed.
  • No, that door is not opening.
  • No, I’m not going to heal, I’m taking your Dad home.
  • No, you’re going to be single right now.
  • No. No. No.

With each no, especially and foremost my Dad, comes devastating hurt, and with devastating hurt comes despair…

“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself.“- Paul (2 Cor. 1:8)

As I wrote despair that verse came to mind. That’s how I feel most days. If this is what life has to hold, I don’t know how much more I can take.

I want to say, “You know what God, right back at ya! I’m done. My heart hurts too much to say yes again… What if something else happens? What if you decide to take another family member?”

Today, although I didn’t feel like going, I went to church. I sang as tears streamed down my face. But it was in that sanctuary that I was reminded of another time when God the Father said no.

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be NO more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away”. Revelation 21:4

After Jesus died on Friday and before he rose on Sunday, there was Saturday.

I like to think of life right now as Saturday. On Saturday I’m sure the disciples must have been confused. I mean they saw Jesus heal the lame, raise the dead, walk on water, and even put a man’s ear back together. But on Saturday, He was in the grave.

That Saturday had to be the worst day of their lives. They probably felt abandoned, alone, forsaken. They probably wrestled with anger at the other Jews, and possibly anger towards God. He promised to be on the throne after all and the disciples were supposed to judge the twelves tribes of Israel.

Matthew 19:28-29, ” Jesus said to them, “I assure you and most solemnly say to you, in the renewal [that is, the Messianic restoration and regeneration of all things] when the Son of Man sits on His glorious throne, you [who have followed Me, becoming My disciples] will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel. 29 And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or farms for My name’s sake will receive many times as much, and will inherit eternal life.”

Saturday must have shook them.

But Sunday came… and He was back, but not without His wounds. He fought the greatest fight of all time, and said NO to eternal suffering for anyone who accepts His sacrifice.

It is only because of that one NO that I can say yes.

  • I can say, “yes” I’ll keep going to church, even though I don’t understand what’s going on.  
  • I can say, “yes” I’ll reading my Bible, even though I’m confused and hurt, and have a foggy head when I read it.  
  • I can say, “yes” to worshiping, even when I don’t feel like it. 
  • I can say, “yes” to praying, even when I don’t want to.  
  • I can say, “yes” to Jesus, even when I don’t feel like it or feel like I have the strength.  

He overcame death for me. So even if He decides to continue to say no, for His own purpose, I pray He will give me the strength to keep saying yes to Him. I know I don’t have the strength to say it left to my own strength.

… I pray that I will be like Martha in John 11:27, before before Jesus raised Lazarus, she said “Yes, Lord” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

Thank You for Being There ❤️

Next Saturday my family and I will be hosting my Dad’s memorial service. It’s hard to write that. It’s also hard to comprehend that almost a month ago my Dad’s accident happened.

Part of me is dreading the service because it’s like closing a chapter and opening another. And the next chapter will be a long hard road. I don’t know that I’m ready to start “our firsts” without my Dad: his Birthday, my mom’s Birthday, the grandkids birthdays, Father’s Day, and the other events. I’m not ready for this road, but I know God allowed us to be on this road, and I know we are not alone.

In fact, we have not been alone the whole time, and neither was my Dad. When we realized the magnitude of my Dad’s accident, my heart hurt because I thought my Dad was alone during it all. The day we found out he wasn’t, I cried out of gratefulness. Gabe and Brandi (a couple who was headed home) witnessed the crash. They stopped and prayed with my Dad until the EMT arrived. A volunteer firefighter also stopped. They couldn’t go to the hospital, but they just wanted to be there for my Dad.

Then, when Rachel first got to the hospital, she was met by her mom’s friend, Elizabeth Yizbeck. And when Tyler couldn’t get there as fast as he wanted to, a family friend, Ramon, showed up, just to be there.

Then, as Mom, Linda, Jessica, Brian & Danni, Stephanie & Justin , and the nieces and nephews were driving, I had several friends literally praying us through the night. In our hardest hours, they were there.

Then when we arrived one by one, we hugged, and went to see Dad.

But still, we weren’t alone. The morning we arrived, I got a text message that instantly brought me to tears, “We are on our way” from Sarah Zink. She and Chuck dropped everything and started the seven hour drive to just be there.

Then there was Uncle Bob and Aunt Lynn, my Dad’s boss, who have treated us like their own nieces and nephews every since they’ve known us. They showed up at the hospital after just arriving from another trip… They wanted to be there for us.

Then there was the Millers, the Fontaines, the Barrys, the Swift, and a few other friends that changed travel plans to came and prayed for my Dad and us; because, they wanted to be there.

My Uncle Stu wanted to be there for my mom and us kids, so he stayed overnight at the hospital. That allowed us siblings to all be together to discuss the next steps.

And how could I forget our employers and co-workers? My Mom took a leave of absence with the full blessing and support of her supervisors. They had to shift things around, I have no doubt, but gave her their devoted prayers and support, and offered to help in many ways to show they were there. My brothers station offered financial help, shift trades and found out ways to help our family. They wanted to show him they were there for him. My brother in law’s employer let him have time off and then gave him financial help. My employer, his wife, and my coworkers all worked extra hours so I could be there for my family. They even sent cards, from the kids, to show me that although we were hours away they were there for me and my family.

Then there were the seven churches- literally. There were seven different denominations that heard one way or another about my Dad’s accident. They offered housing, brought food, brought gift cards, and prayed for us. Because they wanted to be there for us.

And back at home, we had Lydia, another family friend, find things at the house that we needed. And because we left in a rush, I still had laundry in the washing machine. She and her mom rewashed my laundry, cleaned the house, left flowers in every room and had food waiting for us when we got home. Because they wanted to be there for us.

And then another family friend drove the items we needed up so he could be there for us.

And the donations, text messages, calls and prayers from so many left us stunned and overwhelmed. You gave and prayed because you wanted to be there for us.

The list goes on and on and on. But as we saw this beautiful picture of the church coming together on our behalf, I was reminded of the message my Dad gave at ACMI (Association of Christians Ministering among Internationals) this year. It was on “unused parts” of the body of Christ. In the middle of My Dad’s PowerPoint Presentation is 1 Corinthians 12:26, “And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it…”
One of my Dad’s slide said this:

All the member suffer with the one member that is suffering! The whole Body hurts!  

After my Dad passed, so many people said, “we are weeping with you”. In all honesty, it was hard to weep. I don’t know if it was shock or numbness, but I wasn’t able to cry for nearly a week after my Dad passed away.

But on our long drive home my Mom and I got to talking. We talked about how it felt like someone else was carrying our burden. I am now in tears as I write this, but it felt like each one of you took a piece of our pain and cried the tears we were unable to cry. It’s like God allowed our hearts to break in a thousand pieces, but then called each one of you to gently carry a piece of our heart; until we are able to carry it again.

So, I know I’m still forgetting some, like the doctor who knew someone who knew someone who knew my dad that prayed for him. Or for the money that randomly showed up in several of our bank accounts, or the dinners that were provided from Josh and Jen Chancey, Sarah Watson, The Stebners, Jaye Sousa, our neighbors across the street, and Jamie. Or, the ones who have had to walk this road before us like the Storey family and the Zink family that reached back and linked arms to help us navigate the way forward.

The processing and the words for me have been slow to come, but tonight I want to say, from the very bottom of my being: thank you.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for carrying our broken hearts. Thank you for crying our tears. Thank you for suffering with us, so that we are not alone.

I love each one of you so much, thank you for being there!

A Hallowed Out Life

Life, It hits you like a flash flood. No warning, just chaos, confusion, grief and pain.

For me, grief has been coming in waves. When it comes, it tumbles me hard. My feet desperately searching and straining for the rock I once had a firm stance on.

Another wave, and I get thrown together with debris. In the midst of the tumbling more wounds ensue.

Several times in the past few weeks I have felt I lost my footing. Is this really happening or is this just the longest dream known to man? But then I sit at my Dad’s grave sight and see William Harold Perry 1952-2017 set right next to my Grandpop’s plot.
Why 2017? As I looked at the year, I was reminded that God knew this would be the year my Dad would go home, just two years and a month after my Grandpop, and a year after my life felt ransacked. So much can happen in such a short amount of time.  

While I was thinking about the past few weeks, and the past few years I had a picture come to mind.

The picture was of the Grand Canyon. I have never been there, but it’s on my bucket list.  

I thought about suffering , loss, and our unbelievable and incomprehensible times that God allows. Life cuts pieces out of our hearts.

Just two days ago, my heart hurt so bad it felt like I was having a heart attack. There was a physical pain because the emotional pain is too much for my heart to endure.

God allows debris to chip away at us, and He allows the tumbling to soften our edges.

When I was younger my brother would tumble rocks. He would put several rocks and pour water into it. Several hours, sometimes days, the rocks would come out as smooth as silk.

So in the suffering, God is digging out and refining us, so that we become like the Grand Canyon.

No one can look at the Grand Canyon and credit it’s majesty to human. When you look at the Grand Canyon it shouts the existence of God.

In the same way the Grand Canyon echoes, our lives also echo. We can echo bitterness, or we can echo the greatness of God.

Another aspect to this picture is the depth of the Grand Canyon. There is a depth that suffering gives you. When you meet someone and they have an understanding most people don’t, you can almost guarantee that they have endured some kind of suffering.  

I once attended a church service where this young, hipster guy was speaking. It would have been easy to assume that he hadn’t spoken much, or had had much life experience. But almost as soon as he started sharing, I thought to myself, this guy has been through something… Sure enough, by the end of the message, he shared about his son being severely disabled, and not able to speak… This man said he longed for heaven, not only to see Jesus face to face, but also to hear his son finally be able to call him Dad.

I think God must have known I needed this picture because quite frankly in the midst of the tumbling, flash floods of grief, and loss, it’s hard to hold on. Grief and loss take you to dark places. Being so close a love one dying is a very dark place to be, and I have not been able to process it still…

But if I remember that God is creating a masterpiece, and that when He has His say and done His will in my life, I pray that it screams His greatness, because I cannot walk through this in my own strength. Life too often is just too hard to bear without God… And for now, this is what I am holding onto.

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; 4 and perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Romans 5:1-5

Song For Today: King of My Heart , by Sarah McMillan

The night the devil tried to drown me

⚠️: This is a dark post, but it helped me process some things going on in my heart. 

I was grabbed so fast I got whip lash. I was dragged through hellish landscape that seemed to go on more than I could endure.

Rocks, thorns and glass worked their way into my fragile skin, and into my wounds dirt began to fill. I was soon covered in blood which soon turned into mud. 

I could not get free of his death grip. I could only hope that, for some reason, there was a light at the end of the road.
Suddenly when I thought a break was coming, I felt a sensation that for a bit felt like a way out of my misery. Water! Maybe I can clean out my wounds.
Just as soon as I had the thought, the strong evil hand grip had me once again. I was plunging downward into the water which was now growing so dark I couldn’t see anything in front of me.

My head took a hit, but the pressure didn’t leave. It stayed. I was pinned. The death grip was gone but I heard tormenting whispers, “hate him”, “he abandoned you”, “it’s not worth it”, “if a break is what you want shallow the water”.
I lay there feeling my open skin waving in the water. I could feel the pressure rising in my lungs as they burned for oxygen. My body lay broken pinned under the weight of a stone. Water and sinister words spewed out of a hideous and maleficent creature. 
It all seemed like too much to bear. I was pinned. I had no way out. I had hatred burning in my heart that no amount of water could put out. I had a choice: Fight or flight. Suck in the water, or give it one more shot, for hope.
I chose to cry out knowing I have very little breathe left. My feeble cry even quieter under the water. No one could possibly hear my tiny bubbles that attempted to be a cry for help. 
I nearly gave in, but just as I went to suck in the water, the rock pressed against my head shifted. I prayed for strength and was able to lift my torn up arm to free myself. The boulder moved. My lungs still burning, and my mind wondering when I might pass out, but I started to see the light.
I had no time to think about getting pulled under, I just had to make it to the top. My head felt the rush of a cold  breeze as my head popped above the surface. I gasped for air, and floated, until I could regain the strength to swim to the shore. 
Each stroke felt like I had a ten pound weight on it, but I had to keep swimming. I started to fear that I may be taken under but for whatever reason I wasn’t and the devil that was out to destroy me had somehow lost interest in me as his catch.
I set my feet down and felt the ocean floor. I had made it, but how? 

No immediate answer came from my call. 

No one came to lift the rock off my head, no one intervened as my limp body was drug through that horrendous landscape. 

Why and how am I on the shore which was soft on my skin? 
Grace… 



Grace doesn’t intervene as we expect. It doesn’t punch anyone in the face in our defense. But it does cause things to shift. It gives us the strength when we have nothing left. Grace does not intervene in during times we are being battered, but it somehow still holds us together despite of bloody and wounded bodies. 
The moment grace shows up the enemy is silenced. He hates the presence of it’s existence. 


So although in this hell hole called life we may not see the rescue we are looking for, we have grace we are saved by. 

What do you do when you pray for a miracle and it doesn’t come?


The machines were beeping and the numbers were jumping. My Dad lay still in SICU.  
He was on his way home when a rain storm rolled in on his drive home. My Dad has driven a thousand times in the rain. He’s driven thousands of miles. He’s even driven this route a dozen or more times, but this time was different.

The car hydroplaned and he slammed into a tree. But it wasn’t the back of the car. It wasn’t the front of the car. It wasn’t the passenger side of the car. It was his side of the car, more specifically, exactly where he was sitting.

We got the call, waited for more information, jumped in the car and drove 7 hours to be with him. Praying the whole way.

Mom prayed. David prayed. Brian prayed. Rachel prayed. Linda prayed. I prayed. Stephanie prayed. Jessica prayed and hundreds of people prayed. We prayed for 7 days. We prayed for healing. I prayed my Dad would walk out of that hospital room. I KNEW God could. But I didn’t know if He would.

I’d seen God deliver a sweet baby from the gripping hand of death. I had seen people get set free. I had seen marriages restored. I know of people getting healed of cancer, but my Dad? He never got out of that bed.

I still can’t process it all. I still feel like I’m walking someone else’s road. I say I feel but I haven’t really, my emotions seem to be shut off.

I prayed. As I was packing my bag before we got in the car to see my Dad, I just kept saying, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” it was my breath.

I know that name. In that name I have been saved and in that name waters have been parted, people have been given their sight, people have been raised from the dead, but my Dad? He died.

If someone were to come up to me and say, “You didn’t have enough faith” I would probably punch them in the face.

I believed, but my miracle didn’t come.

I cried and my miracle didn’t come. I begged and my miracle didn’t come.

My Dad is gone. He’s with the Jesus I cried, prayed and begged to.

So what do I do now? 

I believe. I accept. And I praise.

I believe in my God who says, “My ways are not your ways”. Isaiah 55:8-9

I believe that my God “knows the plans He has for me. Plans to prosper me (and my family) and NOT to harm me” Jeremiah 29:11

I believe that my God “Has loved me (and my family) with an everlasting love” Jeremiah 31:3

I believe my God will “work ALL things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purposes” Romans 8:28

I believe that my God “Is good and does good and NO GOOD thing will He uphold from those who walk uprightly” Psalm 119:68 & Psalm 84:11

I accept that what has happened will be for my good and my families good and for the furtherance of the gospel. And I accept as Ann Voskamp says that this cross my family and I are carrying is God’s kindest decision.

I praise my God because He knows better than I. He who tasted the bitter taste of death on my behalf to give me eternal life is worthy of my life. I praise Him for choosing me and allowing me to be his servant.

So although this pill is such a hard one to swallow. This is not the road I want to be on. This is not where I want to be. The miracle I prayed so hard for and didn’t receive, I choose to leave it in my Heavenly Father’s hands. And, I choose to believe. I choose to accept and I choose to praise. I have no other option.

“I have decided to follow Jesus… no turning back… no turning back”

YOUR HANDS by Christi Perry

Stories of His grace

YOUR HANDS

Your hands: the ones that look like cigars

Your hands: The ones that I can size my hand against your three fingers

Your hands are the hands that held me as a baby

The hands that bathed me as a child

The hands that taught me to walk

The hands that taught me how to swim, bike, and throw a football and turn the pages in my Bible… (You know to get the whole context). Those same hands are the only hands I want to hold.

Your body may be fighting to get back to normal but when I see your hands, I see my Dad.

I see your strength.

I see your courage.

I see your faithfulness.

When I look at your hands, I remember you using them as illustrations, presenting the Gospel.

When I look at your hands, I remember you helping others in need. Wrapping…

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72 hour update.

Stories of His grace

We have passed the 72 hour window. We have no major change. Some little things that go up and down. But the swelling, and lack of response is the same. We are trusting, waiting and thankful for the time we have to hold his hands. The staff at the hospital have been AMAZING. They are listening to us, answering questions, communicating with each other, they encourage us and yet they are honest. We couldn’t be in a better place. They are doing everything they can yet not doing too much to make things potentially worse. We are so thankful. We are now transitioning into a long term care plan. Nothing has been decided, we’re waiting and praying but sooner rather than later things will change. We aren’t even sure of what all that entails. We need wisdom.

We have again been beyond blessed and God is at work. Please read…

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48 hour update

48 Hour Update on my Dad

Stories of His grace

We are passing the 48 hour mark. Thing are about the same. He’s still in a coma. His is breathing with just a little assistant. All we can do now is wait. And pray.

I don’t have much to share on dads current state. But I have SO many awesome praises! Our mighty God is at work! Please take a moment and praise him for the following!

*My brother and I were able to find my father’s wallet and deal with the car and that is now all settled. The tow truck driver didn’t even charge us! Praise him!

*A car is now in the works for my mom thanks to dear friends who live a few hours away! Praise him!

*The couple who prayed my father through and witnessed the accident traveled to us and we got to hold hands together and pray for dad again. We got to…

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