Several years ago, I posted this song because it was so uplifting and helpful for me when I wanted to redirect my thoughts from my problems back onto God.
This new worship song is one I heard about a year ago on TV, but at the time, I couldn't find it on youtube. I've been listening to it repeatedly this weekend. When I'm struggling with doubt and discouragement, these lyrics inspire me to remember and worship the true character of the great I AM.
"I AM" - By Daniel Crews and choir at First Baptist Church of Atlanta.
Lyrics:
I am the LORD
I'm the Almighty God
I am the one for whom nothing is too hard
I am the Shepherd
I am the Door
I am the good news to the bound and the poor
I AM, I AM, I AM, I AM
I am the righteous one
I am the Lamb
I am the ram in the bush for Abraham
I am the ultimate sacrifice for sin
I am your Redeemer, Beginning and the End
I AM, I AM, I AM, I AM
I am Jehovah
I am the King
I am Messiah, David's offspring
I am your High Priest
I am the Christ
I am your Resurrection
I am the Life
I AM, I AM, Jesus said: "I AM," (I AM)
I am the bread
I am the wine
I am your future, so leave your past behind
I am the one in the midst of two and three
I am your tabernacle
I am your jubilee
I AM, I AM, Jesus said: "I AM," (I AM)
I am the bread
I am the wine
I am your future, so leave your past behind
I am the one in the midst of two and three
I am your tabernacle
I am your jubilee
(I AM), I AM, He is the great (I AM), (I AM)
I am hope
I am peace
I am joy
I am rest
I am your comfort and relief from your stress
I am strength
I am faith
I am love
I am power
And today I am your freedom,
This very hour!
I AM, Jesus said: "I AM," (I AM), (I AM)
[I am hope
I am peace
I am joy
I am rest
I am your comfort and relief from your stress
I am strength
I am faith
I am love
I am power
And today I am your freedom,
This very hour!] x2
I AM, I AM, Jesus is (I AM), I AM
He is the great I AM!
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Monday, May 6, 2013
Unwelcome Detour
When I was 18, I went on a summer trip with my parents before leaving for college. The trip was part vacation and part doctor visit. We had just lost our home and possessions to toxic mold, which made us quite ill. I discovered that summer that I was chemically sensitive. I needed to see a specialist to measure the damage done to my immune system.
Afterward, we toured Cape Cod and were headed home through Mystic, CT. I remember being relieved that we were finally on the way back. My expectations were to relax on the long car ride and enjoy resting while I let my thoughts drift. However, while we were driving along, my parents had the "great idea" to visit Mystic Seaport (a historical village) and see the replica of the Amistad.
This was not on my agenda. I wanted to go home. I didn't feel well. I had had it with learning/walking and tried unsuccessfully to dissuade them from this detour. Helpless to stop the hijacking of my plans, I had two choices. I could respond by being sour and unpleasant, or I could embrace this opportunity to learn something new and enjoy the last few moments of vacation with my parents before going back to my summer job.
I chose option A: sour and unpleasant. My vague logic was to demonstrate how truly miserable I was in the hopes that they would see the error of their ways, wrap up early, and get back into the car. I had a Bad Attitude. Additionally, I insisted on wearing stiff new leather sandals that looked cool but hurt my feet. We actually had to leave the museum, go to an outlet store, and come back with new sneakers so I could walk.
This memory encapsulates what has been going on in my relationship with God lately.
Several months ago, I thought that my circumstances were starting to change. Because I'd been waiting so long for God to improve my family's situation, I set my hopes on this road to relief. But instead, I received tremendous disappointment in multiple ways. Walking through the series of setbacks really hurt; it felt like even though I couldn't take more pain, there was no escape from its eroding episodes. My heart was blistered by repeated crises like my tortured feet that day in Mystic.
Instead of looking at this time as an opportunity to learn more from God, to apply lessons from the past, to endure in faith, I had a bad attitude. I'm not scolding myself. I think that it was healthy for me to express my honest pain, disappointment, hurt, and sorrow over what had happened. Genuine emotion expressed to God with reverence is nothing short of Jacob-like wrestling or Job-like protesting, without which our faith would be hollow at best, or insincere and distant at worst.
I pulled back from God. I didn't want to pray just to be denied again, I didn't feel like reading the Bible. In fact, reading the Bible seemed to exacerbate my doubts even more. Through the eyes of a child being disciplined, everything a good parent says feels cruel.
I was alone a lot - up all night every night and sleeping all day every day. When I looked around me, all I saw were unanswered prayers, increased suffering. Instead of the relief I'd thought was coming, I felt like I was waiting for the next bad thing to happen. It was a dark time. Increasing the isolation was the feeling of no one understanding. Sharing a hint of my struggle with others just made me feel alienated, like I was wrong to feel these things.
A few months before, I had stated confidently that although my circumstances were difficult, my faith was strong. I had been so sure that I had dealt with my doubts years ago and that my trust in God was unshakable. It was humbling to realize that another series of storms could rattle me so deeply.
Now that I've had some time to reflect, I realize that in spite of my bad attitude, God taught me in a different way. Instead of encouraging lessons learned through study, listening, and observation, He drove home how fragile I am, how utterly weak my faith can be, how vulnerable I am to being tempted to doubt. He taught me how all the knowledge in the world can't heal a hurting soul. Sometimes we need someone to come along and just listen, just nod and validate us when we talk, just cry with us. We need someone who has felt deep pain to sit down without judgment and hear our messy, tearful, angry thoughts without a hint of correction. We need them to come closer instead of pull away.
In my distress, I read Job. I read blogs of those who had been hurt, who had honestly doubted, who had questioned and come back in one piece. Instead of trying to wrap my mind around God's love through pain, I focused on God's holiness. I wrote a poem. I drew Jesus' hands. With awe, I observed his powerful and brilliant creation in a nature TV series on Africa. When I couldn't understand how his way with me was love, I focused on his evidenced character and found I could keep going until my feelings caught up.
And recently I was encouraged to reread Psalm 77. "To this I will appeal: the years of the right hand of the Most High. I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago." and so I remembered his past faithfulness. When pain comes rushing in to blind us, we must turn to the only place we can see - the memories of God's presence in our past and in the ancient past. As I've read back over the years on this blog, over the thoughts I wrote down at age 18 on that trip, and over the dates written in my Bible beside that psalm, I see God's loving hand consistently at work in my life. He has been with me all along. Now, I am realizing, as absent as he felt, even this detour was his hand too.
"Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen."
Psalm 77:19
Afterward, we toured Cape Cod and were headed home through Mystic, CT. I remember being relieved that we were finally on the way back. My expectations were to relax on the long car ride and enjoy resting while I let my thoughts drift. However, while we were driving along, my parents had the "great idea" to visit Mystic Seaport (a historical village) and see the replica of the Amistad.
This was not on my agenda. I wanted to go home. I didn't feel well. I had had it with learning/walking and tried unsuccessfully to dissuade them from this detour. Helpless to stop the hijacking of my plans, I had two choices. I could respond by being sour and unpleasant, or I could embrace this opportunity to learn something new and enjoy the last few moments of vacation with my parents before going back to my summer job.
I chose option A: sour and unpleasant. My vague logic was to demonstrate how truly miserable I was in the hopes that they would see the error of their ways, wrap up early, and get back into the car. I had a Bad Attitude. Additionally, I insisted on wearing stiff new leather sandals that looked cool but hurt my feet. We actually had to leave the museum, go to an outlet store, and come back with new sneakers so I could walk.
Several months ago, I thought that my circumstances were starting to change. Because I'd been waiting so long for God to improve my family's situation, I set my hopes on this road to relief. But instead, I received tremendous disappointment in multiple ways. Walking through the series of setbacks really hurt; it felt like even though I couldn't take more pain, there was no escape from its eroding episodes. My heart was blistered by repeated crises like my tortured feet that day in Mystic.
Instead of looking at this time as an opportunity to learn more from God, to apply lessons from the past, to endure in faith, I had a bad attitude. I'm not scolding myself. I think that it was healthy for me to express my honest pain, disappointment, hurt, and sorrow over what had happened. Genuine emotion expressed to God with reverence is nothing short of Jacob-like wrestling or Job-like protesting, without which our faith would be hollow at best, or insincere and distant at worst.
I pulled back from God. I didn't want to pray just to be denied again, I didn't feel like reading the Bible. In fact, reading the Bible seemed to exacerbate my doubts even more. Through the eyes of a child being disciplined, everything a good parent says feels cruel.
I was alone a lot - up all night every night and sleeping all day every day. When I looked around me, all I saw were unanswered prayers, increased suffering. Instead of the relief I'd thought was coming, I felt like I was waiting for the next bad thing to happen. It was a dark time. Increasing the isolation was the feeling of no one understanding. Sharing a hint of my struggle with others just made me feel alienated, like I was wrong to feel these things.
A few months before, I had stated confidently that although my circumstances were difficult, my faith was strong. I had been so sure that I had dealt with my doubts years ago and that my trust in God was unshakable. It was humbling to realize that another series of storms could rattle me so deeply.
Now that I've had some time to reflect, I realize that in spite of my bad attitude, God taught me in a different way. Instead of encouraging lessons learned through study, listening, and observation, He drove home how fragile I am, how utterly weak my faith can be, how vulnerable I am to being tempted to doubt. He taught me how all the knowledge in the world can't heal a hurting soul. Sometimes we need someone to come along and just listen, just nod and validate us when we talk, just cry with us. We need someone who has felt deep pain to sit down without judgment and hear our messy, tearful, angry thoughts without a hint of correction. We need them to come closer instead of pull away.
In my distress, I read Job. I read blogs of those who had been hurt, who had honestly doubted, who had questioned and come back in one piece. Instead of trying to wrap my mind around God's love through pain, I focused on God's holiness. I wrote a poem. I drew Jesus' hands. With awe, I observed his powerful and brilliant creation in a nature TV series on Africa. When I couldn't understand how his way with me was love, I focused on his evidenced character and found I could keep going until my feelings caught up.
And recently I was encouraged to reread Psalm 77. "To this I will appeal: the years of the right hand of the Most High. I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago." and so I remembered his past faithfulness. When pain comes rushing in to blind us, we must turn to the only place we can see - the memories of God's presence in our past and in the ancient past. As I've read back over the years on this blog, over the thoughts I wrote down at age 18 on that trip, and over the dates written in my Bible beside that psalm, I see God's loving hand consistently at work in my life. He has been with me all along. Now, I am realizing, as absent as he felt, even this detour was his hand too.
"Your path led through the sea, your way through the mighty waters, though your footprints were not seen."
Psalm 77:19
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Worn
There are days when I can't put into words how worn I feel by the years of struggle. My prayers feel stagnant, ineffective, and repetitious. Discouragement washes over me in waves as I wait for relief.
Today, I heard a song on the radio that can sing for me in those times when it feels like my head is being held underwater. If you feel this kind of weariness, let this song be your cry too. Redemption will win. The struggle will end.
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." -Hebrews 12:2
Worn - by Tenth Avenue North
Today, I heard a song on the radio that can sing for me in those times when it feels like my head is being held underwater. If you feel this kind of weariness, let this song be your cry too. Redemption will win. The struggle will end.
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." -Hebrews 12:2
Worn - by Tenth Avenue North
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Gutting the House
Have you ever seen "Property Brothers" on HGTV? Two twin brothers (a realtor, Drew, and a contractor, Jonathan) help their clients buy an old house and turn it into a dream home on a budget. I like it because it's a makeover show. They just use tools and paint instead of clothes and lipstick.
With each old home they remodel, a few major "issues" get uncovered during the process. On one episode, a master bathroom was torn out and looked like a complete mess. The toilet was hauled out; the shower stall was knocked down. As usual, the house, which was an extraordinary investment of money, looked like it was worse off than when they began their work. In fact, a serious problem had even been uncovered that could threaten the very structure of the house.
Jonathan said: "It's true that it's darkest before the dawn because in a demolition, we make these rooms look really bad before we build them up to be beautiful."
When he said that, it helped me to gain perspective on some of the extra "demolition" God has been doing in my life lately. Over the past six weeks, I've been reeling from a series of crises that happened over the holidays. The end result was a major setback for my family, as well as my health and quality of life. My sleep schedule was torn up. My mom was ill, and my grandma was in worse condition than ever. I received some bad news, even though I'd prayed and tried to do everything right. I was powerless to stop any of these things from happening.
Tense, frustrated, and feeling like I needed to get off this roller coaster ride, I did what I instinctively do when I feel upset with God. I pulled back. I justified it by the fact I wasn't awake for my morning devotions anymore. But this didn't address the underlying reason that I pulled back because I did not like what I was feeling or experiencing. God wanted me to trust him, but he was asking me to trust him when everything was going wrong - still - after years and years of injustice and problems and many urgent prayers pleading for Him to change things. I pulled back, even though I knew it was wrong and dangerous because I've been down this road before. I confess I've let my feelings lead me instead of my faith.
Plagued by an excess of bad dreams, doubts, questions, and ups and downs in my health during this time, I have continued to struggle. So it's fitting that this TV show reminded me that there is more to God's plan than just the gutting of my life. It's for a purpose. There are reasons I don't understand. There are also problems to repair that can only be uncovered by decimating the excuses I use like fig leaves. There are rotten areas of sin that need to be ripped out and replaced so they don't spread and fester beneath a socially acceptable facade.
And yet there is even more to anticipate. When the renovation is complete, when God has had his way, when I trust him to pick the right accessories and frame the new features, the big reveal will show the miraculous result of what he has done painstakingly in me through years of trial. Pain is part of the demolition process, and God knows that though our previous way of life looked serviceable enough from the outside, there is so much to fix. Only he can see what is underneath the floor. Only he can visualize the finished project. Right now, I am in the room stripped bare, with insulation hanging out in tufts. The floor is rotten with holes. I am in repair mode, under construction.
But I must trust the contractor (which is what I want to yell at the TV every time I watch shows like these). And this reminder is what I need now to help me keep going.
If you are in a state of demolition with God, do you trust him to finish the job? Will you stick with him though the pain feels unbearable and you look around to see only ugliness and senseless suffering? Remember that Jesus is our master carpenter. When we invite him into our hearts as Lord, he starts a home improvement project and will spare nothing to make it perfect. We become his dwelling on earth when we believe Jesus died for our sins. His Spirit lives in us, so be strong and courageous. The process is painful and confusing, but he's working to stabilize, improve, and beautify your soul as you await your eternal home.
"He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."
Philippians 1:6
 |
| Rotten subfloor. Demolition condition. (HGTV - Property Brothers: High End Home/Rob & Jessica) |
Jonathan said: "It's true that it's darkest before the dawn because in a demolition, we make these rooms look really bad before we build them up to be beautiful."
When he said that, it helped me to gain perspective on some of the extra "demolition" God has been doing in my life lately. Over the past six weeks, I've been reeling from a series of crises that happened over the holidays. The end result was a major setback for my family, as well as my health and quality of life. My sleep schedule was torn up. My mom was ill, and my grandma was in worse condition than ever. I received some bad news, even though I'd prayed and tried to do everything right. I was powerless to stop any of these things from happening.
Tense, frustrated, and feeling like I needed to get off this roller coaster ride, I did what I instinctively do when I feel upset with God. I pulled back. I justified it by the fact I wasn't awake for my morning devotions anymore. But this didn't address the underlying reason that I pulled back because I did not like what I was feeling or experiencing. God wanted me to trust him, but he was asking me to trust him when everything was going wrong - still - after years and years of injustice and problems and many urgent prayers pleading for Him to change things. I pulled back, even though I knew it was wrong and dangerous because I've been down this road before. I confess I've let my feelings lead me instead of my faith.
And yet there is even more to anticipate. When the renovation is complete, when God has had his way, when I trust him to pick the right accessories and frame the new features, the big reveal will show the miraculous result of what he has done painstakingly in me through years of trial. Pain is part of the demolition process, and God knows that though our previous way of life looked serviceable enough from the outside, there is so much to fix. Only he can see what is underneath the floor. Only he can visualize the finished project. Right now, I am in the room stripped bare, with insulation hanging out in tufts. The floor is rotten with holes. I am in repair mode, under construction.
 |
| Before is tolerable, unstable, and limited. After is beautiful, stable, and useful. (HGTV - Property Brothers: High End Home/Rob & Jessica) |
"He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."
Philippians 1:6
Sunday, December 23, 2012
When I feel weak
I cannot do it alone;
The waves surge fast and high,
And the fogs close all around,
The light goes out in the sky;
But I know that we two
Will win in the end,
Jesus and I.
Cowardly, wayward, and weak,
I change with the changing sky;
Today so eager and bright,
Tomorrow too weak to try;
But He never gives in,
So we two will win,
Jesus and I.
I could not guide it myself,
My boat on life's wild sea;
There's One who sits by my side,
Who pulls and steers with me.
And I know that we two
Will safe enter port,
Jesus and I.
-from "Streams in the Desert"
The waves surge fast and high,
And the fogs close all around,
The light goes out in the sky;
But I know that we two
Will win in the end,
Jesus and I.
Cowardly, wayward, and weak,
I change with the changing sky;
Today so eager and bright,
Tomorrow too weak to try;
But He never gives in,
So we two will win,
Jesus and I.
I could not guide it myself,
My boat on life's wild sea;
There's One who sits by my side,
Who pulls and steers with me.
And I know that we two
Will safe enter port,
Jesus and I.
-from "Streams in the Desert"
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
When it costs to believe
Like a rabbit pulled up by a well-laid trap and dangling by one foot, I have wriggled around in futility, pulling this way and that, demanding to know why, grumbling and complaining, comparing and envying.
Why does another person experience resolve, healing, instant understanding, freedom, and restoration, all while I continue to go through circumstances that are isolating, confusing, unpleasant, and unresolved? Where is God in all this?
I think from a human perspective, it's natural to measure our success by tangible outcomes. How good is she at baking? Well, her cake sure tasted good! Is he a good musician? His concert was excellent! Conditioned to measure success based our our senses, we are left at a disadvantage when it comes to spiritual matters.
If someone were to ask how much faith a person has, we can't simply look at whether they suffer or prosper. The famous passage about faith in Hebrews 11 says that people of faith both "escaped the edge of the sword" (v. 34) and "were killed with the sword." (v. 37)
If there is no guaranteed earthly outcome for people of faith, how can we remain steady? How do we cope when God allows us to hurt for a long time rather than instantly deliver?
We can gain insight by looking at Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the Jewish exiles living in Nebuchadnezzar's court in Babylon. Trying hard to hold on to their Jewish identity and committed to worshiping the true God, they refused to bow down to worship a giant golden statue. When their behavior was brought to Nebuchadnezzar's attention, they were about to face certain death. Before being bound and tossed into the fire, they acknowledged two potential outcomes of their faith:
"If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we shall not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up." Daniel 3:17-18
It's this attitude that we can adopt as our own when we face what appear to be certain consequences for choosing the path of faith. When others mistreat us or when we suffer difficulty and setbacks for obeying God, He is deserving of our complete devotion, no matter the cost. Yet regardless of the repercussions, we have this assurance: he is present with us in the trial.
Once the men were thrown into the fire at the order of the enraged king, something extraordinary happened. The king asked:
"Did we not cast three men bound into the fire?" (v. 24)
His men affirmed that this was true. And the astonished king responded:
"But I see four men unbound, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods." (v. 25)
It was God's presence in the furnace with them that brought tears of joy to my eyes this morning. Likewise, Jesus is in the furnace with me and with you through faith. We "consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men so that [we] will not grow weary and lose heart" when we suffer quietly yet see others quickly rescued.
So where is God when he allows the outcomes we sometimes see as failures? He is the fourth man in the furnace with us, sent to rescue us sinners who are thrown into the fires of this world. Through faith like that of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, we will arrive one day in heaven, not even smelling of smoke.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
(Isaiah 43:2-3)
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
When all I can do is "not do."
Though I haven't written as often this year, God is teaching me during my inactivity. He's calling me to live in trust and reminding me, when I accuse him of not caring, that he gave his life for me. This act of supreme sacrifice means that he is involved in every detail of my pain, that he could not be more present or involved in my struggles. Though he appears to be sleeping in the stern while the storm is swamping my life, he is in total control of even the most powerful forces.
During a dangerous storm that threatened their boat, the disciples woke Jesus and asked "Don't you care if we drown?" and I have asked the same question in similar words. He responded to them (and to me) like a father wounded by his child's lack of trust: "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"
In Him I must trust. On Him I must wait.
If you feel today like God has hemmed you in, isolated you, or prevented you from serving him in the ways you had planned, remember the "service of waiting" as George Matheson did when he considered God's restrictions and limitations on Paul's missionary journey:
This waiting in faith requires me to slow down and determine to seek God's presence daily, not just go through motions while gritting my teeth.
In your walk with God, it's easy to get frustrated and angry at his delays and inaction. But his purposes are not always visible. He is doing a work in you that he promises to bring to completion. It's up to us to wait with trust.
"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns." Philippians 1:6 (NLT)
During a dangerous storm that threatened their boat, the disciples woke Jesus and asked "Don't you care if we drown?" and I have asked the same question in similar words. He responded to them (and to me) like a father wounded by his child's lack of trust: "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"
In Him I must trust. On Him I must wait.
If you feel today like God has hemmed you in, isolated you, or prevented you from serving him in the ways you had planned, remember the "service of waiting" as George Matheson did when he considered God's restrictions and limitations on Paul's missionary journey:
Sometimes I have been interrupted in what seemed to be quite productive work. And at times, opposition came and forced me to go back, or sickness came and forced me to rest in some isolated place.
During such times, it was difficult for me to leave my work unfinished when I believed it was a service done in the power of His Spirit. But I finally remembered that the Spirit requires not only a service of work but also a service of waiting. I came to see that in the kingdom of Christ, there are not only times for action but times to refrain from action. And I also came to learn that a place of isolation is often the most useful place of all in this diverse world. (...)
[Holy Spirit,] Help me to find, even in the area of service where you have closed a door, a new entrance into your service. Inspire me with the knowledge that that a person may sometimes be called to serve by doing nothing, by staying still, or by waiting.
-George Matheson (Streams in the Desert)
This waiting in faith requires me to slow down and determine to seek God's presence daily, not just go through motions while gritting my teeth.
Waiting upon God is vital in order to see Him and receive a vision from Him. And the amount of time spent before Him is also critical, for our hearts are like a photographer's film - the longer exposed, the deeper the impression. For God's vision to be impressed upon our hearts, we must sit in stillness at His feet for quite a long time. Remember, the troubled surface of a lake will not reflect an image.
- Dr. Pardington (Streams in the Desert)
In your walk with God, it's easy to get frustrated and angry at his delays and inaction. But his purposes are not always visible. He is doing a work in you that he promises to bring to completion. It's up to us to wait with trust.
"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns." Philippians 1:6 (NLT)
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