Elaina’s Story

In mid-2011, I moved to Virginia. I found a church but it was larger than the video and website lead on. I went week after week and met no one.

One day, I went to a church connecting event and sat across the table from this couple. “Hi, my names is Elaina. This is my husband Asquith or A.Q.” Once we started learning about each other, we became fast friends. There was also another couple in our church. We became a close group of 5. Standing outside of church well after service dismissed talking about theology, or life. Sitting at the coffee bar hashing out ideas. It was a highlight in my life for sure.

Life slowly changes for all of us. Elaina and AQ were called to another church. Then, I moved, then the other couple moved. However, Elaina will always be the type of friend anyone would wish for. She is fiercely loyal, straight to the point and eager to seek God’s will in any matter. It is truly an honor not only to have her as a friend but to be able to have you hear from her! Without any further ado, here’s Elaina’s story.

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My husband and I met in Miami while working for a community development ministry. After a year of friendship, we choose to commit our lives together before God and our families. Now if you knew me, you’d know I wasn’t the type of girl who longed for marriage or children. I never saw a healthy marriage and used my parents’ divorce as the picture of what the Lord called it to be. I was also told it would be extremely hard for me to get pregnant. I believed what the doctors said over what the Lord could do in my life. And because of all this, I made it very clear to my husband that children were not going to be in our future. I’m sure God laughed at me because He had some very different plans for us.

 

In November 2011, only 1.5 years after we’d been married, I found out I was expecting. I couldn’t believe it! Even with the fear and ‘what ifs’, I could feel the Lord working on my heart, filling me with a desire for children. I was reminded of something a dear friend said to me. She heard from one of our professors at Moody that, “Children are the best form of discipleship.” Those words rung in my head until I finally realized I was both happy and humbled that my God saw it fit to make me a mother.

 

I wish I could say the story ends here with a happily ever after, but it doesn’t. The day before Thanksgiving I felt some deep pain in my stomach, and my husband rushed me to the ER. After some testing and being able to hear the baby’s heartbeat, the doctors were convinced that I was ok and sent me home. I went home relieved and thanking God. The doctors weren’t right. The next morning, I woke up to find blood on the bed. Once again, we rushed to the ER. I remember the hours spent waiting were torture. I prayed and cried out to God in agony, begging Him to save both of our lives. The only option to stop the internal bleeding was to complete a D&C. I had lost my baby, and everything was a blur after that. People kept telling us you’ll get pregnant again. Another person asked me what sin I was in (*that was cruel*). A brother at the time encouraged my husband and I to get away, so we went to D.C. and stayed with a friend. It was a refreshing time for me and my husband to reconnect, for us to cry out to God. The thought of children was pushed to the back of my mind, AGAIN. But God had other plans.

“Meanwhile, my insides were screaming with pain and guilt. Pain from losing my daughter and guilt for feeling angry towards a loving God. I buried my feelings deep down and never talked to anyone about it.”

Our miscarriage made me numb towards children. My heart was cold towards God, other women who were pregnant or any person that mentioned they wanted children. Meanwhile, my insides were screaming with pain and guilt. Pain from losing my daughter and guilt for feeling angry towards a loving God. I buried my feelings deep down and never talked to anyone about it. We were serving in a church at the time that did not welcome showing any form of weakness. They thought Christians should bring it to God, leave it alone and NEVER speak of it again. Nobody asked me about the miscarriage, and I never brought it up.

 

Fast forward three years, and I found myself pregnant again. This time I was so careful. We didn’t tell anyone until I was about 20 weeks. It was an easy pregnancy considering I was a high risk due to my age (38), but when it came time for me to deliver, there were a few complications. Again, I found myself crying out to God to save this life He gave me. After 32 hours of labor, 3 epidurals that didn’t work, 2 rounds of Pitocin, my blood pressure continued to be too high. I was on the verge of having a stroke, and my son’s heartbeat was dangerously low. They rushed me back for an emergency cesarean. Within thirty minutes I was able to see my son and hear his first cry. I don’t know who cried more… me or him! I kept thanking God for this healthy baby boy, Asquith Malachi Thompson. In the hospital I felt good. There were nurses and doctors everywhere to help, and I had a room filled with family and friends.

 

But things changed when I went home. For the first two weeks I couldn’t walk because my legs were extremely swollen due to medication and the fluid I retained. I was unable to hold Malachi without my husband handing him to me. Nursing him was a struggle. Sleep was a struggle. I was tired all the time, and my son had his nights and days confused. It was overwhelming, as I battled with my own healing and taking care of my son.

 

I knew a week into being home something was wrong with me. When I looked at my son while breastfeeding, I felt nothing. No goo-goo ga-ga. No joy. Nothing. All I felt was sadness… all the time. And I couldn’t focus on anything. I went weeks and months feeling like I didn’t deserve to be where I was. I felt like a bad mother. I felt like I couldn’t care for him the way someone else could, and I couldn’t be a wife the way my husband needed. I feared if I shared my feelings with anyone, social services would take my son away, and my husband would leave me because he would think I was an awful mom. On top of everything, my grandmother was going through cancer, and I couldn’t be there to support her. I felt useless, fearful, anxious and panicky all the time. I questioned God for every emotion or lack thereof, and then felt shame for questioning Him. The cycle was endless, and it was exhausting. I remember several times sitting in the car, with my son in the backseat, thinking he’ll be ok with someone else. I’ll just drop him off with a friend and go end this pain. But the wrestle was always, “I’m a Christian. I’m in church leadership.” And even though we had changed churches and the leadership was very different, I kept telling myself I still shouldn’t be feeling this way.

“…this was going to be the day. After the appointment I was going to drop my son off with a friend and end it all. I was going to walk away from my life because I was sure everyone would be better off without me. But my good God had other plans.

One day I was headed to Malachi’s appointment and decided this was going to be the day. After the appointment I was going to drop my son off with a friend and end it all. I was going to walk away from my life because I was sure everyone would be better off without me. But my good God had other plans. As I was driving to my friend’s house after the appointment, for some reason He reminded me of a task my Pastor asked me to do. I turned around and headed back home. I’d do this final task and then go finish my plan. While I was completing my task, my husband called to check up on me. Before he hung up he said, “Babes, I love you…very much.” After we hung up I wept so hard. Face down on the floor. “Why God? Why have you given me so much pain? Why is this happening to me?” I cried myself to sleep on the floor, with my son in his swing. I woke up to my son crying, and as I breastfed him, I looked down at his face and cried some more. All I wanted to do was cry the pain away. When my husband got home from work that day, I said nothing to him. I couldn’t bare the shame of telling my husband I was set to walk away from everything and end my life.

 

A few weeks went by and my pastor called to see if I had sent an email to a couple at church. I told him yes, and he asked me to forward it to him. When I went to forward the email, I saw it sitting in my inbox… it had never been sent! I broke down sobbing. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me! I was constantly forgetting things, unable to finish tasks on time. Afterwards, I called my pastor and told him what happened. He asked to meet with me that day, and as he came to my house, he gently asked, “Is everything ok with you?” I broke down and confessed I was struggling with postpartum depression (PPD), and I needed help.

 

At first, as the words came out of my mouth I felt like I was being a false Christian. Was I betraying God? My family? My friends? Was everything I knew to be true about God a lie? How could I even feel this way? No good Christian should feel “this way.” Christ had done so much for me… My head was a fog of lies that I had believed for almost an entire year. As my pastor listened, he suggested I step down from my role at church and focus on getting healthy again. I was open to ALL help, whether it be medical or spiritual. I met with a biblical counselor, and she told me to try the counseling for three months and if at any time I wasn’t getting better to go see my doctor for medical help as well. She also connected me with another lady who was going through PPD. Together we started reading a book called Depression: Looking up from Stubborn Darkness by Ed Welch. That book gave me categories for my depression. It gave me hope when my life seemed so dark and lost. Counseling, my local church, a community of patient sisters and, most of all, the Word of God helped me face many struggles and lies. God used a misplaced email to help bring my depression into the light. And I was brave enough to cry out for help. The grace of God kept me alive, and the grace of God keeps me fighting for my life every day. For me bravery is confessing… Confessing shame, guilt and my hearts darkest fears. Most of all, as I acknowledge my need for my Savior, my courage grows.

For me bravery is confessing… Confessing shame, guilt and my hearts darkest fears. Most of all, as I acknowledge my need for my Savior, my courage grows.”  

I still struggle with my depression, but I have been shown healthy ways to live with it. It is a temporary form of suffering I endure on earth that daily draws me nearer to Jesus. Each day I have to speak Gospel truths to myself. When I start believing lies and I begin feeling my depression, I have to reach out to others. I am grateful for our church and the security I feel within. We have a saying we live by, and it can be found here: Gospel, Safety & Time.

 

Throughout it all, depression has brought me into a deeper faith and trust in my Heavenly Father. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Elaina has been blessed with a wonderful, patient, loving, humble husband; Asquith (AQ) Thompson and a very vibrant, intelligent and energetic son Malachi. They are truly the best gifts her Heavenly Father has seen fit to give her. She received her Masters of Urban Ministry from Moody Theological Seminary in Chicago in 2008 and soon after moved to Florida to serve as a Community Development Missionary in Miami, where she met her husband while serving together. Their family now lives in Newport News, VA, where she is currently studying for the Association of Certified Biblical Counselors Certification. She also serves as the deacon of hospitality at Hampton Roads Fellowship. Asquith & Elaina desire to grow in the knowledge of the Gospel, church planting and the importance of the local church.  They hope to plant a church in 2021 in Barbados. To connect more with Elaina contact her through Facebook @facebook.com/elainav.

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Certain Aspects of God

“God is Love” 1 John 4:8
“Gracious is the Lord, and righteous” Psalm 116:5
“God is not a God of confusion, but of peace.” 1 Corinthians 14:33

I like these aspects of God. But, what my humanity struggles with are verses like these:

“For he wounds” Job 5:18.
“He has besieged and encompassed me with bitterness and hardship.” Lamentations 3:5.
“All was well with me, but he shattered me; he seized me by the neck and crushed me.” Job 16:12.

All these verses are in the Bible. I’ve read them, but being wounded, shattered, and torn apart (Hosea 6:1) is not something I really understood until the past two years.

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If I’m being honest, I have been struggling with these aspects of God. And let’s just be real, it says He. The capitalization in the Bible is a reference for God.

Sometimes it is our own sin that causes wounds. Sometimes it’s the enemy that causes the damage to our soul. But what do you do when it’s God who allows it and God orchestrating it?

I don’t like a world where we are crushed. I don’t like being shattered, broken and torn apart.

You may think I’m out of line. But let me remind you of a verse (which keeps coming to my mom’s memory). Isaiah 53:5, “But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities.”

God the Father, allowed His own Son to be crushed. In fact, God sent Jesus to be pierced, beaten, forsaken and subject to a criminal’s death. What do you do with that?

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This weekend I was invited to a retreat. I struggled to go. I know there’s a lot I need to wrestle through in my own heart and mind. Things that I haven’t been able to talk about because they are simply  too painful. It feels like I’m going to fall apart if I talk about it.

But, like my mom always says, “If you don’t want to go, it probably means you need to go.” So, I went.

While I was there I was given Genesis 22 to read. It is the passage of scripture where Abraham offers Issac to God in the alter and where God provides another sacrifice.

All three times Abraham was called, He said, “Here I am.”

It struck me in a whole new way. Being available to God means being available to breaking. Being available to being shattered. Being available to being torn apart.

Following God has broken me more than I ever thought possible.

But, while I was on my own at this retreat, I felt like God said, “Christi, don’t you think the same heart I broke, I can heal?”

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When things are broken, it’s in our nature to fix them, right? We have a falling out with someone and we want to fix it? We have an broken plan and we want to mend it. We want to be the fixers.

But what if God is just asking me to be the patient? To walk through the painful steps to healing? To press through the pain to obtain a greater prize? To be able to look back and see that none of it had anything to do with me.

Because the whole verse in Job 5 says this, “For He wounds, but He also binds up; He injures, but His hands also heal.”

And the ending of Lamentations 3 says this:
“21 This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. 22 The Lord’s loving kindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. 23 They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. 24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I have hope in Him.” 25 The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, To the person who seeks Him.

This road is not easy. I don’t like being broken, but I have to continue to trust that it is for a greater purpose.

“Weeping lasts for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

Sometimes that night is a few weeks, sometimes it is longer. But, God has our healing and joy will come in the morning.

I don’t know what road you are on. It may be incredibly painful, but this year, I want to be a good patient. I want to be available- even if it hurts.

 

 

A Broken Ankle and a Dark Pit.

I looked at my phone and saw a message come in through my family’s group chat. It was from my older sister. She had been in a position where her kiddos could reach her and one of them landed on her ankle. Now, if you don’t know the back story you’d probably be confused and ask what the problem is.

Last summer, my sister, who was eight months pregnant went to a church event. She was chatting with some other moms when one of her kids asked her to tie their shoes. She bent down, tied it and trying to stand back up, she lost her balance and fell backwards on her ankle. It broke.

Within a short period of time, the pastor’s wife had taken the rest of the kids home, a couple was taking her to the hospital and her husband was on his way to meet her.

She had to have surgery on her ankle and a metal plate was implanted for stability. A few weeks later, she gave birth (in a cast no less) to a sweet little boy.

You may be wondering, why am I going on about my sister’s ankle? Because, to me, it’s a powerful picture.

You see the same summer, I may not have broken my ankle, but I was deeply wounded. And this summer, my family suffered a very deep wound. So, when my sister said, “One of my Little’s fell on my ankle” we understood how that would hurt. But had you not known my sister endured a broken ankle, and that there is a piece of metal in her body; her doubling over in pain wouldn’t make sense.

I feel like the longer we live and the trauma we face, life leaves us with metal in our heart. From the outside, just like my sister’s ankle, she looks fine. She doesn’t walk with a limp. But when someone hits it unexpectedly, it sends sheering pain up her leg.

A few days ago, I saw a picture of my Dad. To be honest, I can barely look at pictures. It hurts too much. As more time goes by, I miss him more. I saw the picture and tears brimmed my eyelids- just waiting to spill over. It reminded me of my sister’s ankle, except the sheering pain was in my heart.

Life knocks us over sometimes. We get back up and we may seem like we are fine. We may not be walking with a limp, but we know there is metal in there and any given day, we could be doubled over in excruciating pain.

My family and I know any given rain storm could end with one of us in tears. It hurts. Life without my Dad hurts. Yes, we may look okay. And, we may act okay. We may seem like we may be “handling it well”, but what you don’t see is the times we are doubled over… Crying ourselves to sleep just like any very painful physical injury.
I wonder how many people are walking around seemingly “normal” but have pieces of metal in their hearts. Part of me is tempted to just sit on a bench in public somewhere and see who might come along to share their story of when a piece of metal entered their heart.

I don’t really have a spiritual application to this… Maybe there will be a part two to this blog and maybe not… Life hurts and sometimes it feels like we are in a dark pit. A few weeks ago I came across a verse that struck me.

Psalm 88:6, “You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths.”

It doesn’t say you fell in a pit, or satan put you in a pit. He’s talking about God. It doesn’t even say, “God allowed me to be put in a pit” No, it says, “You have put me in (not just a pit) THE LOWEST PIT”

Later on in this Psalm in verse 18 it says, “darkness is my closest friend”

I don’t understand why God sometimes places us where darkness becomes our closest friend. I don’t like the thought of that. I don’t like being in this pit I am in right now. Lately, things have just been hard. I’m not writing to get sympathy. I really don’t want it. I’m just writing because seeing this picture helped me and I thought it might help someone else…

Another verse that has been coming to mind too is Jeremiah 29:11… It’s says, “I know that plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. To give you hope and a future”

Lately, very little has gone “right” nothing seems to be “prospering” or even “hopeful”. However, as I was thinking about this, I realized what this verse doesn’t say…

1) YOU have the plans… No, God has the plans. If I had the plans, I’d have something lined up by now.

2) That God will prosper your career, or your health, or your family. No, He says He will prosper you. And isn’t it true we often grow, learn and prosper during adversity? I mean, if Jesus learned obedience through the things he suffered (Heb 5:7-8), what makes me think I am exempt from diffilcut times?

So, I still don’t know why so much brokenness has accrued the past two years and, quite frankly, I may never know… But I’ve got to hold on to the fact that there is a purpose. There is a bigger reason than I can see. And that even if I don’t know the plans and the purpose, God does. Is knowing the Plan holder and the purpose holder enough for me? Is it enough for you? I think this is something we each need to wrestle through in or own time.

Song of the Week: I Don’t Have the Answers by We Are Messengers 

Fighting Fear: My Greatest Fear

Introduction: 
For the month of June, I decided to launch a series called Fighting Fear. Each week you will hear a testimony from one of my friends. Today, you will hear from Paula Denny. I have known Paula as long as I can remember. We were both Pastor’s kids. I believe I was Paula’s Awana Leader when she was a Spark. We didn’t talk much as we got older. However, our friendship has changed drastically over the past year. Paula and her husband have walked through some painful experiences. I never knew how painful experiences can morph two people who would not necessarily be close friends into dear sisters. We have had some very real and honest talks about each other, ministry, and life. It is truly a privilege to have Paula share today!

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“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” 2 Corinthians 4:7

I cannot think of the exact moment or ways in which I recognized and faced my greatest fear, I do know that the process began in the summer of 2014.  I was working for a mission camp, and during that time, I learned so much about myself and faced many fears, however, one stands out.

My greatest fear was allowing the Lord to expose himself through my flaws.  The verse above was presented to me by a camp leader and it hit my soul like a ton of bricks.  We are simply clay pots, we as Christians, are plain vessels, filled with something so much greater than ourselves, but in order for what’s on the inside to be exposed, it must have a passageway. I already knew that the Lord wanted to expose himself through me, and honestly, I believed that he already was.  I never understood the level of vulnerability that was necessary in order for him to be truly seen from within me.

I was afraid to let the Lord shined through my cracked pot because my cracks were my imperfections–Imperfections that we all have.  Every crack in my pot represented sin, sorrow, shame, fear, or anything imperfect that had been or was currently a part of me.  With each strike of imperfection, came a crack to my clay pot.  The flaws that covered who I am show: my shortcomings, my failures, my sorrow, and my shame.  I spent so much time trying to distract from my flaws, why would I want to bring attention to them?  I spent so much time and effort shielding my cracks, because I did not want others to know of their existence, much less put them on display.

This verse kept coming up throughout the course of the summer and it continued to burden my heart on a daily basis.  I was afraid, that in showing my blemishes, I would distract from the beauty of God within me.  I was afraid that my cracks and scratches would be far too ugly for others to see. I was afraid to surrender my current and past shame and sorrow to the Lord allowing him to do whatever he wanted with them.  I wanted my pot to look put together, I put so much effort into making my pot look as though it had no cracks.  In doing this, I was hindering myself from being used by God, because in our weaknesses, he glorifies himself in a mighty way, if we will only share with him our greatest shames and most sorrowful failures, he will use them and take something so disgraceful in our eyes to be transformed into something adorned with beauty and grace.

Little by little, I began to share my deepest failures, the ugliest parts of my inmost being.  I began to recognize their existence and shared them with the Lord, though he already knew they were there. I became more vulnerable with fellow believers. Allowing myself, and everyone around me to see my clay pot for what it truly was. All of my flaws were no longer hidden, I was free from the burden of hopelessly covering and hiding my cracks without an end in sight.

In finally releasing this fear to the Lord, something beautiful happened.  The Father took all of my cracks and scratches.  He took the sin, sorrow, hurt, and shame, that I had been hiding and he used it.  He used it to show himself through my shortcomings.  He displayed his beauty in areas and situations in my life that were damaged.  He showed himself to others through the cracks in my pot.  He brought me comfort and healing through the holy treasure of his grace.  He made my soul feel refreshed and beautiful among his eyes.

Within the cracks of my clay pot, his light shined, so that he was seen.  The attention was brought to him, not to my shortcomings, as I had feared it would.  No one was focused on my cracks, but rather, they were made witness to the glory of God that was shining through the broken pieces of my simple clay pot.  In surrendering this deep fear of my soul, I experienced joy and relief, so precious to my inmost being.

Remember: There is beauty in broken and flawed vessels. There is beauty because Christ shines through. When we are “whole” no one sees the Light. When we share our brokenness it gives other hope to continue on.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”

I cannot think of the exact moment or ways in which I recognized and faced my greatest fear, I do know that the process began in the summer of 2014.  I was working for a mission camp, and during that time, I learned so much about myself and faced many fears, however, one stands out.

My greatest fear was allowing the Lord to expose himself through my flaws.  The verse above was presented to me by a camp leader and it hit my soul like a ton of bricks.  We are simply clay pots, we as Christians, are plain vessels, filled with something so much greater than ourselves, but in order for what’s on the inside to be exposed, it must have a passageway. I already knew that the Lord wanted to expose himself through me, and honestly, I believed that he already was.  I never understood the level of vulnerability that was necessary in order for him to be truly seen from within me.

I was afraid to let the Lord shined through my cracked pot because my cracks were my imperfections–Imperfections that we all have.  Every crack in my pot represented sin, sorrow, shame, fear, or anything imperfect that had been or was currently a part of me.  With each strike of imperfection, came a crack to my clay pot.  The flaws that covered who I am, show my shortcomings, my failures, my sorrow, and my shame.  I spent so much time trying to distract from my flaws, why would I want to bring attention to them?  I spent so much time and effort shielding my cracks, because I did not want others to know of their existence, much less put them on display.

This verse kept coming up throughout the course of the summer and it continued to burden my heart on a daily basis.  I was afraid, that in showing my blemishes, I would distract from the beauty of God within me.  I was afraid that my cracks and scratches would be far too ugly for others to see. I was afraid to surrender my current and past shame and sorrow to the Lord allowing him to do whatever he wanted with them.  I wanted my pot to look put together, I put so much effort into making my pot look as though it had no cracks.  In doing this, I was hindering myself from being used by God, because in our weaknesses, he glorifies himself in a mighty way, if we will only share with him our greatest shames and most sorrowful failures, he will use them and take something so disgraceful in our eyes to be transformed into something adorned with beauty and grace.

Little by little, I began to share my deepest failures, the ugliest parts of my inmost being.  I began to recognize their existence and shared them with the Lord, though he already knew they were there. I became more vulnerable with fellow believers. Allowing myself, and everyone around me to see my clay pot for what it truly was. All of my flaws were no longer hidden, I was free from the burden of hopelessly covering and hiding my cracks without an end in sight.

In finally releasing this fear to the Lord, something beautiful happened.  The Father took all of my cracks and scratches.  He took the sin, sorrow, hurt, and shame, that I had been hiding and he used it.  He used it to show himself through my shortcomings.  He displayed his beauty in areas and situations in my life that were damaged.  He showed himself to others through the cracks in my pot.  He brought me comfort and healing through the holy treasure of his grace.  He made my soul feel refreshed and beautiful among his eyes.

Within the cracks of my clay pot, his light shined, so that he was seen.  The attention was brought to him, not to my shortcomings, as I had feared it would.  No one was focused on my cracks, but rather, they were made witness to the glory of God that was shining through the broken pieces of my simple clay pot.  In surrendering this deep fear of my soul, I experienced joy and relief, so precious to my inmost being.

Remember: There is beauty in broken and flawed vessels. There is beauty because Christ shines through. When we are “whole” no one sees the Light. When we share our brokenness it gives other hope to continue on.

Song of the Week: No Longer a Slave to Fear,
by Jonathan David & Melissa Helser

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The Beckoning for Reckoning

 

Thinking about it was driving me mad. The question of “why” haunted me like the Black Plague. “What did I do?”, “How could this happen?” The questions were numerous and the answers were nil.

 

I couldn’t take it anymore. I told myself that instead of asking questions, I need to think of the situation as dead. I couldn’t raise this relationship from the grave. It was out of my hands. I had done what I knew to do, but I could not fix it. For my own sanity, I viewed everything about that season of my life as dead.

 

I know that sounds morbid, but when someone is dead, you don’t try to pick that person out of their coffin. Their life is done (unless God wanted to work a miracle). The same was true for me. I had tasted not a physical death, but a death nonetheless. There was only silence, unanswered questions, and deep grief.

 

Yesterday in church, as we sang “Resurrecting” by Elevation Worship. I thought of many relationships I know of that have experienced a severing. A severing between a wife and a husband. A severing between a parent and a child, and a severing between close friends.

 

These severings have resulted in a death. The death of a marriage, the death of a unified family, the death of a friendship.

 

As I continued to sing, I got choked up. Broken relationships are not something you get over, but you can get through it. You learn to live without “them”. It’s like a heavy spot in your heart. You don’t always think about it, but when you do, it brings tears to your eyes.

 

Then I thought about how God feels. He knows that hurt too well. When Adam and Eve sinned that broke their perfect relationship with God. They experienced a severing in their relationship with God. That sweet fellowship, sweet union shattered into a million pieces. The repair was more than Adam and Eve could fix in their finite bodies and wisdom. But God, in order to reconcile His children back into fellowship, severed His perfect relationship with the Son. So, the morning Jesus stepped out of that grave, death was no more. He won. One severing brought death, The second severing brought life.

 

God’s heart is for reconciliation.

 

This side of eternity encompasses death and brokenness, but I never have to be without hope. If reconciliation does not come in my lifetime, I can cling to the fact it will in the next. God sent Jesus to reconcile me to the Father. I know that nothing is too hard for him. He can reconcile my broken relationships and those broken relationships of my dear friends. If not now, then later.

 

  • “For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life.” Romans 5:10

 

  • “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him.” Colossians 1:19-22

 

  • “All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.” 2 Corinthians 5:18-19

 

… and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation…

The Faces I Cannot Forget

***This is dedicated to the Iraqi family I met in Jordan almost a year ago, and to all the refugees scattered all over the world…

I attempted to write a poem about your suffering … 

Then I realized….

I don’t know what it’s like…

I don’t know the fear you lived every time you heard the whistle of a missile. 

I don’t know the panic you endured when you’d hear the destruction of another home… praying it wasn’t someone you knew…. 

I don’t know how many tears you cried… Or how many you couldn’t anymore after you lost loved one after loved one, friend after friend. 

I don’t know how many unseen wounds you carry around on a daily basis… 

I don’t know how if feels to not only lose friends and loved ones, but also your country….

I don’t know how it feels to lose a livelihood, freedom and choice…

I don’t know how it feels to be at the mercy of another people group – another country…

I don’t know how it feel to be stripped away from the language you and your family have spoken for generations, and now having to learn a new one…. 

I’m sorry I have not understood … I cannot imagine your pain… I don’t know what it’s like to suffer like you have, but I know one who did… 

I pray that in the midst of your pain… in the midst of this dark hour… you would know you’re not alone… The one who made you… The one who fashioned your eyes, hands, feet and body…. loves you. 

And until I meet you, you are in my heart… please don’t give up… you have a story the world needs to hear… the lessons of traveling through this dark valley needs to be taught…. 

I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you for your courage…