From the Sermon on Sunday

1 John 3:20
“For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.”

Comfort.

On Leaves

Fall has come to Covenant, and come with a vengence. After weeks of relentless rain, at last the weather cleared enough for us to notice the leaves were changing. It’s my favorite time of year, and the cold snap in the air is incredibly nostalgic to me. I have great memories of this season. I think it would be fantastic to fall in love in the fall. But this season is also a hard one for me. The changing leaves are usually symbolic of the changes in my life as well. Often, the word “fall” is more evocative of heartache than the splendor of autumn leaves.

I turned 22. I also registered for my last semester of college yesterday. I’m ready for a rocking chair and some knitting, ready to let these “old bones” rest awhile. Everyone laughs at me when I say that, but I feel old in my spirit.

I started taking medication for depression. I’ve now joined the ranks of those who take a prescription drug every morning. The bottles line the side of my sink, like orange and white soldiers ranked with their multicolored warning lables. I pop two pills faithfully every morning, and another half a pill at night. My friends and I sit around and discuss things like side effects, diagnoses, and the pros and cons of particular medications. Isn’t this something that is supposed to become a part of life only when we are old? Since when did the young need so much medication just to live normally? Yet 75% of the girls on my hall have been diagnosed with depression at some point in their short lives.

Futhermore, all my friends are getting married. Fellow RA Sarah and I just pounced on the book “101 questions to ask before you get engaged” in my friend Josh’s room. Although the majority of Covenant students are single, my circle is increasingly becoming taken. I miss kids. I want to get married. The possibility doesn’t seem to be looming on the near horizon, but particpating in and celebrating the union of so many dear ones makes me wonder where my story is going. I work for a lady on the mountain, checking her email and making copies of her law textbooks, and driving through the leaves past the kids coming home from school and the old couples out walking and the moms jogging makes me long to be part of a community again. College students are great, but I miss old people. And young people. And in-between. Dorms are great, but I want to live in a neighborhood.

In the midst of these celebrations of life, there has been a lot of death lately. Schoolmate Katja just lost a little sister, hallmate Emil lost a neighbor, hallmate Susannah lost several relatives in the past month, and my close friend Joe just laid his mother to rest. Then my best friend found out her brother might go to jail. 

Needless to say, it was a rough weekend.

Sunday morning, I sat down with Psalm 103 and read, “As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.”

At church on sunday, I was unable to sing “O, the deep, deep love of Jesus,” one of my favorite hymns, because I was crying too hard. All the familiar questions resurfaced. My heart was in Psalm 88, a wail of lament that just would not be hushed. There was so much brokenness, so much death and pain around us. Did God see? Did he hear our cries? Did he remember how frail we were? What was he doing?

I sat in the pew, looked out the windows at the bright orange leaves, and thought about my friend Joe’s words when he shared with me the news of his mother’s passing. “I looked at her body,” he said, “and you know what, Katie? I was jealous of her.” I imagined her singing before the throne of God this morning, no longer bearing the pain of separation, home for the first time in her life, and I was also jealous of her. Oh, for faith to be sight.

While my pastor spoke words of encouragement and hope, I wrote,

Yesterday was the worst day of the year. October 24. Jessica’s birthday. Ache. It’s fall and the leaves are changing. The city looks like fire. It’s that time of year when the leaves go out in a blaze of fire, right before they die for the winter. And death–it’s all around me. Joe’s mom died on thursday, Katja’s sister yesterday. We wept and prayed in Daniel’s apartment and just didn’t know what to say to God. I don’t know him. I don’t know who this God is. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know if he loves me. I think he is unkind. I don’t understand. But I know he grieved too. Alpha and Omega. Death and life. The enemy has been defeated. And Joe’s mom is worshipping at the throne today. 

I looked up from the page and out the window. My eyes took in the bright sunshine, finally chasing away the dark overcast clouds until the sky was a clear blue. The bright orange leaves and sunshine-blue sky illuminated my eyes, and a beam of light made it into my heart.

I want to be a leaf.

And not just any leaf. I want to be the bright red ones.

Dying, but refusing to go down without a fight.

Being most beautiful while most vulnerable.

Leaving one last powerful impression.

Having the most life while facing the most death.

Defying darkness with light in a hard season.

Frail, yes. So very frail. But bold.

My time is so short. The fall is surrounding me. But it hasn’t won yet.

Stand Still

Back at Covenant. Unpacking, RA training, senarios, other craziness. I’m loving my staff and got to have the gospel preached to me today. Freshmen come friday, family and David come on Saturday, and returning students on Wednesday. I vacillate between being so glad I am here and questioning why God has led me here again. While I unpack, I’ve been listening to a hymn that alternately reminds me of John-Michael and my girls.

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in His excellent word!
What more can He say than to you He hath said—
To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?

“Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by My gracious, omnipotent hand.

“When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be with thee thy trouble to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

“When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not harm thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

“The soul that on Jesus doth lean for repose,
I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.”

Another year on this hall that has known such suffering. But I find comfort from the promise of victory nestled in the pages of my Bible. In the strength of my foundation, which made it through a year of storms and can weather another. I’m scared to death of another year, but also filled with hope.

During my quiet time on Saturday, I found a note from Caroline Johnson tucked into my Bible on page 337. “1 Sam 12:16″ she had written, and the verse reads, “Now stand here and see the great thing the Lord is about to do.” I let that verse seep into my mind and heart. God is working. I just have to stand still–outside my door, looking up and down this hall that I have loved for three years now–and see what he will do. So at RA prayer and praise that night, I asked God to move in a mighty way. I trembled inside as I asked. God has been answering my prayers lately–what if he says yes to this one? What might happen? Like Moses asking to see God’s glory, I’m certain I don’t know the vastness of what I’m asking for. I don’t even comprehend the vastness of the God I’m asking. But something in me was compelled to ask.

So stand still on your firm foundation, and see what God is going to do this year. Expect great things.

Lunch with my new staff!

Fighting Satan 101

I’ve been reading “Precious remedies against Satan’s devices” by Thomas Brooks this summer. I just finished it last week, and I’ve concluded it’s a must-read. It’s basically a how-to manual of fighting the devil. Seriously, check it out. The Puritans are unmined treasures–dig them up wherever you can. 

This is an adaptation of his conclusion: Ten special helps and rules against Satan’s devices. 

1. Walk by rule. He that thinks himself to good to be ruled by the Word, will be found too bad to be owned by God; and if God do not, or will not own him, Satan will by his strategems overthrow him.
2. Take heed of vexing and grieving the Holy Spirit. Only he can discover Satan’s snares; if you be without him, by whom will you be secured? It is only the Spirit that makes a man too great for Satan to conquer. “Greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.” (1 Jn 4:4)
3. Labor for more heavenly wisdom. It is not the most knowing Christian, but the most wise Christian, that sees, avoids, and escapes Satan’s snares.
4. Make present resistance against Satan’s first motions. It is safe to resist, it is dangerous to dispute—consider Eve. He that will play with Satan’s bait, will quickly be taken by Satan’s hook. The promise of conquest is made over to resisting, not disputing: “resist the devil, and he will fly from you.” (James 4:7)
5. Labor to be filled with the Spirit. He that thinks he has enough of the Holy Spirit will quickly find himself vanquished by the evil spirit.
6. Keep humble. A humble heart will rather lie in the dust than rise by wickedness, and sooner part with all than the peace of a good conscience. Humility keeps the soul free from many darts of Satan’s casting; the devil has least power to fasten a temptation on him that is most humble. He that has a gracious measure of humility, is neither affected with Satan’s proffers nor terrified with his threats.
7. Keep a strong, close and constant watch. (1 Thess 5:6) A secure soul is already an ensnared soul. Satan works most strongly on the fancy when the soul is drowsy. The best way to be safe and secure from all Satan’s assaults is, with Nehemiah and the Jews, to watch and pray, and pray and watch.  Satan always keeps a crafty and malicious watch, “seeking whom he may devour” (1 Peter 5:8); shall not Christians keep a holy watch? Watchfulness is a continual, careful observing of our hearts and ways, in all the turnings of our lives, that we still keep close to God and his Word. A watchful soul is a soul upon the wings, a soul out of gun-shot, a soul upon a rock, a soul in a castle, a soul above the clouds, a soul held fast in everlasting arms.
8. Keep your communion with God. Your strength to stand and withstand Satan’s fiery darts is from your communion with God. A soul high in communion with God may be tempted, but it will not easily be conquered. Such a soul will fight it out to the death. Communion is the result of union; it is a reciprocal exchange between Christ and a gracious soul. Job keeps up his communion with God, and conquers Satan upon the dughill; Adam loses his communion with God, and is conquered by Satan in paradise. Communion with God is a shield upon land, as well as an anchor at sea; it is a sword to defend you, as well as a staff to support you; therefore keep up your communion.
9. Engage not against Satan in your own strength, but be every day drawing new virtue and strength from the Lord Jesus. Ah, souls! When the snare is spread, look up to Jesus Christ, who is lifted up in the gospel, as the brazen serpent was in the wilderness, and say to him, Dear Lord! Here is a new snare laid to catch my soul, and grace formerly received, without fresh supplies from thy blessed bosom, will not deliver me from this snare. Oh! Give me new strength, new power, new influences, new measures of grace, that I may escape the snares. You must lean more upon Christ than upon your spiritual tastes and discoveries; you must lean more upon Christ than upon your graces, or else Satan will lead you into captivity.
10. Be much in prayer. Prayer is a shelter to the soul, a sacrifice to God and a scourge to the devil. Ah, souls! Take words to yourselves, and tell God that Satan has spread his snares in all places and in all companies; tell God that he digs deep, and that he has plot upon plot, and device upon device, and all to undo you; tell God that you have neither skill nor power to escape his snares; tell God that it is a work too high and too hard for any created creature to work your deliverance, unless he put under his own everlasting arms; tell God how his honor is engaged to stand by you, and to bring you off, that you be not ruined by his plots; tell God how the wicked would triumph, should you fall into Satan’s snares; tell God of the love of Christ, of the blood of Christ, and of the intercession of Christ for you, that a way may be found for your escape; tell God that if he will make it his honor to save you from falling into Satan’s snares, you will make it your glory to speak of his goodness and live out his kindness.

The last use of this point is, to bespeak Christians to long to be at home. Oh! How should the consideration of these things work all your souls to say with the church, “make haste, my beloved, and be like a roe, or a young hart upon the mountain of spices”, and to love, and look, and long for the coming of Christ. Shall the espoused maid long for the marriage day? The servant for his freedom? The captive for his ransom? The traveler for his inn, and the mariner for his harbor? And shall not the people of the Lord long much more to be in the bosom of Christ?

God is like a wizard…

I’ve been wrestling with this passage. Thanks, Spurgeon.

“We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.”

Romans 8:28

Upon some points a believer is absolutely sure. He knows, for instance, that God sits in the stern-sheets of the vessel when it rocks most. He believes that an invisible hand is always on the world’s tiller, and that wherever providence may drift, Jehovah steers it. That re-assuring knowledge prepares him for everything. He looks over the raging waters and sees the spirit of Jesus treading the billows, and he hears a voice saying, “It is I, be not afraid.” He knows too that God is always wise, and, knowing this, he is confident that there can be no accidents, no mistakes; that nothing can occur which ought not to arise. He can say, “If I should lose all I have, it is better that I should lose than have, if God so wills: the worst calamity is the wisest and the kindest thing that could befall to me if God ordains it.” “We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.” The Christian does not merely hold this as a theory, but he knows it as a matter of fact. Everything has worked for good as yet; the poisonous drugs mixed in fit proportions have worked the cure; the sharp cuts of the lancet have cleansed out the proud flesh and facilitated the healing. Every event as yet has worked out the most divinely blessed results; and so, believing that God rules all, that He governs wisely, that He brings good out of evil, the believer’s heart is assured, and he is enabled calmly to meet each trial as it comes. The believer can in the spirit of true resignation pray, “Send me what thou wilt, my God, so long as it comes from Thee; never came there an ill portion from Thy table to any of Thy children.”

“Say not my soul, ‘From whence can God relieve my care?

Remember that Omnipotence has servants everywhere.

His method is sublime, His heart profoundly kind,

God never is before His time, and never is behind.’”

Lam 3:31

This Bible verse popped into my head today.

Lam 3:31–For the Lord does not abandon anyone forever.

I know this verse–that’s why it popped into my head. But have I ever really read this? Has it ever sunk in?

For the Lord does not abandon anyone forever.

Hope, right? God does not abandon forever; there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

But wait–abandon!? Did that verse just say God would abandon us?

The NIV says “reject”. I don’t know if that is better or worse. I don’t know enough about Hebrew to know which is a better translation. Either way, it seems to be saying that times of feeling far from God, times of darkness and hardship, are pretty much inevitible. Aka, normal. As in, we should expect it, and not ostricize those who are experiencing it. And not freak out when it happens either.

How could we miss this? How could we be so focused on the light at the end of the tunnel that we deny the tunnel?

It’s just really blowing my mind right now. I thought you should know.

Much Is Given

Ex 32:9-14

“I have seen these people,” the LORD said to Moses, “and they are a stiff-necked people. Now leave me alone so that my anger may burn against them and that I may destroy them. Then I will make you into a great nation.”

But Moses sought the favor of the LORD his God. “O LORD,” he said, “why should your anger burn against your people, whom you brought out of Egypt with great power and a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘It was with evil intent that he brought them out, to kill them in the mountains and to wipe them off the face of the earth’? Turn from your fierce anger; relent and do not bring disaster on your people. Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac and Israel, to whom you swore by your own self: ‘I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and I will give your descendants all this land I promised them, and it will be their inheritance forever.’” Then the LORD relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened.

When I envision this scene, I see Moses kind of like Gandalf confronting the Balrog. He stands resolutely between his people and utter destruction, crying out, “you shall not pass!” He refuses to give up a foothold, even though there is much gain in it for him. He buys a rescue for his friends by standing in the way of the destroyer.

I feel this way when I’m praying. Intercession is really hard. Not just finding time–being faithful in anything is a challenge, of course–but entering into another’s pain and suffering, standing between them and destruction and pleading for a rescue. My experience is that God does not often “relent.” Change, if it happens at all, does not come quickly. There are many days, weeks, and years spent on that bridge crying “you shall not pass” before my friends safely get away.

I’ve been realizing lately that my position is very much like Moses. It’s sinking in–slowly, I know–how undeserving I am of what God has given me. I have been bestowed with unimaginable favor. Not just salvation, or the hope of glory–though that IS favor beyond imagining–but favor here and now. Things work out for me. I have many gifts. People usually respond well to me. I’ve noticed these things before and thought they were due to my great skill and incredible looks. Just kidding, but honestly, it’s taken a while for this truth Brooks writes to sink in:

That you have nothing but what you have received, Christ being as well the fountain of common gifts as saving grace. ‘What hast thou,’ saith the apostle, ‘that thou has not received? And if thou hast received it, why dost thou glory as though thou hadst not received it?’ (1 Cor 4:7) There are those that would hammer out their own happiness, like the spider climbing up by the thread of her own weaving. Of all the parts and abilities that be in you, you may well say as the young man did of his hatchet, ‘Alas master! It was but borrowed’ (2 Kings 6:5). Alas, Lord! all I have is but borrowed from that fountain that fills all the vessels in heaven and on earth, and it overflows. My gifts are not so much mine as thine: ‘Of thine own have we offered unto thee,’ said that princely prophet (1 Chron 29:14).

It’s taken a summer of boundless blessings–the latest was a spontaneous gift from an anonymous donor towards my tuition–to make me realize that I am not the source of these things. It is freeing, empowering, and terrifying.  “Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required,” the Scripture says, ”and from him to whom they entrusted much, they will demand the more.” What is going to be required? What potential could I possibly have to justify so much investment? And what if I screw it up?

Another reason I take comfort in the story of Moses. What potential did he really show? Why did God choose to call him “friend”? And what did he require of him in return? Honestly, Moses might be a little over-rated. He is not consistently faithful. He had a bumpy start to his holy career and didn’t get around to being God’s man until late in life. That gives me a little hope. 

I’ve just spent the morning praying for my hall. It’s so hard to see them hurting, especially over the summer when I am not there to love them the way I want to. It’s frustrating to have nothing to say but “I’m praying for you.” I feel so helpless and my prayers seem ineffective. I would gladly give them hope and joy, I would willingly trade places so they are the blessed ones and I am the one still struggling. But all I can do is pray.

Moses, for all his flaws, was a good intercessor. Moses used his position to passionately plead for the preservation of God’s people. And because he loved Moses, because he had bestowed him with his favor, however undeserved,  sometimes God listened.

And that gives me more hope.

Ex 33:10-17
The LORD would speak to Moses face to face , as a man speaks with his friend. Then Moses would return to the camp, but his young aide Joshua son of Nun did not leave the tent.

Moses said to the LORD, “You have been telling me, ‘Lead these people,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. You have said, ‘I know you by name and you have found favor with me.’ If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you. Remember that this nation is your people.”

The LORD replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

Then Moses said to him, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?”

And the LORD said to Moses, “I will do the very thing you have asked, because I am pleased with you and I know you by name.”

The Season of Singing

Song 2:10-12
My lover spoke and said to me,
“Rise up, my darling,
my beautiful one, and come with me. 
For lo! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come.”

I feel like too often I post stories of hardship and not of hope. Towards the end of the year I made my youth group girls collect and share stories of answered prayers. Here are a few of my own.

1. The week we returned home, Christina and I lived alone. Our lives were simple, and mostly involved job hunting and cleaning the house during the day (mowing the neglected yard took four hours one morning). The event of the day was dinner, which we planned out days in advance. (Ok, so we were bored. We were living alone in a town where we don’t know anyone! Furthermore, it was Rock Hill…not exactly a bustling metropolis.) I was also trying to rest and recover from the intense school year.

Each evening, as Christina sat down to eat our elaborate meals (like I said, we were really bored!), we prayed for four things: 1, that we would find jobs, 2, that a certain young man would receive the go-ahead to marry a certain young woman, 3, that another friend would find a job, 4, that two of our close friends would be able to work out their relationship. After a week of being home, I had a job interview. The interview was fantastic, and I climbed into the car and put my head down on the steering wheel and prayed, “God, I’m so afraid to ask you for this…but this is the first thing I’ve been excited about in ages. Please let me get this job.”

A few hours later, I received a phone call and I had landed the job. For the first time in months, I felt real joy and anticipation for the days ahead. That evening, a few more phone calls informed me that the young man in #2 was cleared to propose and the couple in #4 were now dating. I was floored. After months and months of prayers that went unanswered, it was overwhelming to have so many answered in one day. I couldn’t believe it. Ever so gently, God was reminding me that he still loved me.

2. This summer has just been fun. Our family decided to invite the college kids from our church over for dinner. I’d also been looking for opportunities to lead worship. The two just happened to coincide on the Sunday before father’s day, and we had a rollicking good time; first leading worship and laughing and enjoying the praise team, and then playing games and hanging out with the college guys until 1 am. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that. My Dad won the trip to Israel he had always dreamed of having. I went to my cousin’s wedding and enjoyed the close company of family. Five friends called throughout the month to tell me they were engaged. All of these were simple joys, but simple joys have been few and far between in the midst of depression. One day on my way home from work, I blared praise music and just thanked God for something I used to take for granted: joy.

3. I invited a friend to come visit. I hadn’t seen him in over a year, and he was going to be in Atlanta…a three hour drive, but much closer than he usually is. A few days after inviting him, but still uncertain whether he was coming, I drove to music practice and prayed, “Lord, I don’t want to be pushy about leading worship. But I’d love to lead the Sunday he comes. Would you please have them ask me?” Later that evening, the worship leader and his wife told me they were going to be out of town and asked if I would fill in for the following week. Such an obvious answer to prayer! I wondered if that meant my friend David would come.

Later that week, David called me back and told me that it wasn’t going to work out like planned—he was flying through Detroit, not Atlanta. I tried not to sound too disappointed. Clearly, our sovereign God had chosen to say no to my hopes. I was okay with that. After all, God had been saying yes an awful lot lately. It was uncharacteristic of him…a no had to be in there somewhere.

That Saturday, whilst innocently sitting in my kitchen, minding my own business and trusting that God knew best, a knock at the door revealed my friend David, live and in the flesh. He and my mom had schemed together to surprise me, and he had cancelled his flight and come to visit. I was completely shocked. I was so used to God denying even my smallest hopes, yet here was one standing before me. I kept waiting to wake up and find it was just a dream. Yet for an entire fun-and-adventure filled week, I woke up and he was still there. I couldn’t believe it. This was not the way I had come to anticipate God working. I felt like God was finally jumping out from behind the clouds and calling out the long-awaited “surprise!”

4. Finally, last weekend my dearest RA buddy Caroline spontaneously drove up to Rock Hill and spent the weekend. It was just in time for us to write our first freshmen letters together and talk through the journey our hearts have been following. We went for a romantic walk around Winthrop (somehow, Caroline and I always end up together in romantic situations…) and talked about our dreams. It was a renewing and affirming time as we shared our hopes for next year and encouraged each other to keep dreaming. Compared to the devastating loneliness of the summer before, the continual stream of encouraging friends, in person, in letters and in phone calls, has been wonderful. I felt like God abandoned me last year, but instead he has surrounded me with his unfailing love in the form of his people.

It hasn’t all been completely happy. Today it has been one year since my classmate Ben Entwistle died. Last week I got an email from my hallmate Chris telling me a friend of hers had just died. Several other friends have told me that they are still in the midst of the storm that, for me, ended in May. Yet it has all been hopeful. Chris wrote to me in her email, But even in Curtis’ death, Jesus taught me some things.  I remember sitting here at home thinking, Lord, that’s ridiculous.  How could such a gentle spirit be killed so terribly?  The way he went out is an oxymoron to the way he lived his life!  Of Curtis it was true the saying, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.  How?  HOW could this have happened to HIM?  And then I realized…if this was true of Curtis, how much more so was it true of Jesus?!  WOW!  Like a lamb before his shearers is silent….Hmm.

I kind of have been feeling (for the first time, I haven’t really ever felt it with any other death) that feeling of, oh, I’ll wake up and it will have just been a dream.  But alas, I woke up yesterday morning and he really was dead.  And the same feeling happened this morning when I woke up.  But the really cool thing was that this morning (haha, ok.  So I have my clock alarm radio set to Moody Radio because I usually hate what they’re saying…I’m like AHHH THIS LEGALISM, SHUT UP I CAN’T HANDLE IT! Which FORCES me to get up outta bed and turn off my alarm.   That’s how I force myself to get up in the mornings. Yup.)  I woke up to Chris Tomlin’s song about being raised with Jesus at the end of the world.  It was so comforting.  I don’t even know what that song is called, but it goes “I will rise when he calls my name….no more sorrow no more pain” y’know? based off of (partly) 1 Thessalonians 4?   Anyway, I just laid there listening and thinking…WOW.  Curtis.  This is true of Curtis.  No more pain for him.  He doesn’t have to live with the injustice that was done to him.  And soon we’ll see him again with thousands upon thousands of angels and ten thousand times ten thousand singing around the throne.  And with Ben Entwistle and Rod Jackson and your siblings and with so many other people that we love so dearly!  AH!  It is going to be great, Katie Klukow, just GREAT!

I cried. I long for that day. But until then, I find strength in her closing: Let’s pray for revival. Let’s come out fighting and after having done everything, let’s STILL stand. Woot!  Can’t wait to meet you in the trenches in the fall! What a testimony of courage she is.

Near the end of the school year, fellow RA Jess wrote me a note that contained these verses from Isaiah 40: “Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem. Tell her that her sad days are gone and that her sins are pardoned. Yes, the LORD has punished her in full for all her sins.”  I think that time has come. The time of tearing is over, the time of rebuilding has begun. The voice that whispered to me “do you love me more than these?” now whispers to me his promises. The one who seemed to desert me now holds me every night. The sovereignty that seemed like brutality last year is now tenderness and compassion. After a year in the trenches, this summer has been a much-needed relief. Praise God for seasons of singing to follow the winters of suffering.

Less Like Scars

…the story of my summer…

It’s been a hard year
But I’m climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it’s

Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember

And I feel you here
And you’re picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character

Less like a prison, more like my room
It’s less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

Just a little while ago
I couldn’t feel the power or the hope
I couldn’t cope, I couldn’t feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come

And I know you’re here
And you’re picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able

And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character

–Sara Groves, “Less Like Scars”

Surfacing Light

Job 13:15 –Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him; I will surely defend my ways to his face.

I write a lot of letters at this point in the year. Most of them are good-bye notes to my friends moving on. This year, most of them began, “congratulations! We’ve made it though the hardest year of our lives!”

It’s true—this year has been intense. I don’t have a full casualty count, but I lost 7 girls off my hall, and saw more suffering than I have seen in a long time. The girls in my discipleship group joked that all my stories began, “So I had a terrible week…” They asked me if I ever had good weeks, and I had to say that no, I didn’t. Each week brought a new challenge or more bad news, until I felt like I was buried under troubles too heavy to bear. I’ve struggled often with how to tell the story without complaining, or burdening those who hear it. Yet I feel compelled to share the darkness with you that you may see the light that much more clearly.

At the beginning of the year, I wrote in my RA journal: “My goals this year are so simple. I want to love these girls. I want to follow Christ.” I had no idea at the time when I wrote it that it was to be the biggest challenge I had yet to face. I faced really difficult discipline reports, tearful news, hard goodbyes, and demonic attacks that were ongoing. This year, the girls on my hall challenged me to love them in their weaknesses, pushed me to love them without reward, and taught me to love in the midst of suffering. At the end of the year, with nothing left to offer, we just sat and cried together. No, our hall wasn’t Caledon. But I think some real growth happened. We faced a lot of hard things—and even when we thought we’d made it, found that it could still get harder. When I came back to my room after a long day of classes, hospital runs, and difficult conversations, a knock at the door could mean anything—another demon, another health issue, another broken heart or just a story to share. It was at those moments that I discovered grace I’d never known—grace to carry me through one more sleepless night, one more cry session, one more emergency room visit or prayer meeting. Grace taught me to see the beauty in the rubble, to cling to Christ when it seemed like he wasn’t listening. This is grace I’d never known. To those whom much is given, much is required; but all that he asks he provides. As James says, “he gives more grace.”

Paul’s words in 2 Cor 6:5-10 reminded me that I was not the first to follow this road: “We have been beaten, been put in jail, faced angry mobs, worked to exhaustion, endured sleepless nights, and gone without food. We have proved ourselves by our purity, our understanding, our patience, our kindness, our sincere love, and the power of the Holy Spirit.  We have faithfully preached the truth. God’s power has been working in us. We have righteousness as our weapon, both to attack and to defend ourselves. We serve God whether people honor us or despise us, whether they slander us or praise us. We are honest, but they call us impostors. We are well known, but we are treated as unknown. We live close to death, but here we are, still alive. We have been beaten within an inch of our lives. Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, and yet we have everything.”

Own nothing…yet have everything. That was my story. Toward the end of the year, with my best friend desperately ill and my hall in shambles, I was finally diagnosed with depression. It was a battle to get out of bed every morning. I dreaded what the new day would bring and struggled to find the desire to live through it. Each day I told to myself, “just live through this. You’re almost home.” I was counting the days until the end of the school year. I found that I was not alone. At least six other friends were also struggling with depression, and life felt like we were trying to swim through molasses. It was so hard to hear their despair and have no hope to offer. I took things one step at a time. Each day was a triumph, each peal of laughter a gesture of defiance. I was determined not to give in. Satan would not win—not on my watch. But oh, how the darkness threatened to swallow us up!

Worst of all was not the extreme tiredness, anxiety, or even the loneliness, but the feeling of complete and utter abandonment by God. I prayed and prayed for relief, for Katie Jo’s pain to dissipate, for protection from the constant demonic attack, for healing for Elizabeth, for hope and encouragement, and found none. Not even a “no”, just no reply. When I cried out for his comfort, when I sobbed in the midst of my loneliness and inadequacy, I felt no soothing presence, no supernatural strength. I had always been told that during the hard times God was especially close—even Psalm 32 says “the Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” So what was I doing wrong? I had never felt so alone. Was he still here? Was he good? Or were all his promises untrue? How on earth was all this calamity going to work out for our good?

Hard questions. Terrifying questions. And most of the time, swamped with overwhelming schoolwork, emotional struggles, and surrounded by darkness, I felt that I was one of the terrified disciples in the boat on the Sea of Galilee during a storm, with Jesus asleep in the back of the boat. Trying to shout over the roar of the sea, I was frantically trying to wake him, crying, “Lord, don’t you care if we drown?!” Was God sleeping? Anger was close on the heels of desperation. “I didn’t sign up for this!” I prayed. “I can’t do this any more. I can do anything with you here with me; but without you, I perish! I don’t understand. How can I follow you when I cannot see where you are going? I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING!”

At RA training at the beginning of the year—it felt like it had been years since then—struggling to trust that God was good to me, I had begun my journal entry with a list of all the gifts God had given me. “These 20 girls are good gifts,” I had written. “Katie Jo, Lauren and Susannah are all good gifts.” Over the course of the year, as God stripped away each of my girls, and struck each of my friends with hardship, I heard him whisper to me, “do you love me more than these?” Did I love him, or the gifts he gave? Would I follow him when there was nothing in it for me? While Satan told me that I would soon give up, I still tenaciously refused to do so. I clung to what I had always known as true, that God was good, that he was still working despite overwhelming calamity. That he was there even when the darkness hid him.

The school year finally ended, an agony of goodbyes and unanswered questions. I was left trying to piece together what had happened and why. What was God doing? Why had he allowed my friends and I to be so smitten and afflicted? While I found hope in the words of a professor, “it always gets darkest right before God does something big,” another professor pointed out, “Job never knew about that conversation between God and Satan.” We might not ever really know why all these hard things happened all at once.

So why am I telling you all this? First, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 1:8-11, “I think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters, about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and completely overwhelmed, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we learned not to rely on ourselves, but on God who can raise the dead. And he did deliver us from mortal danger. And we are confident that he will continue to deliver us. He will rescue us because you are helping by praying for us. As a result, many will give thanks to God because so many people’s prayers for our safety have been answered.” Many of you are people who pray for me, and I want you to know how essential and appreciated those prayers have been.

Secondly, I made it. I lived through this year of hardship and sorrow. It threatened to tear me down, but did not succeed. I have been, in the words of Paul again, “in the day of evil…able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” This is my testimony—I survived the storm!

Finally, because I think God was working through even the darkness. In my case, he certainly was, drilling out of me my pride and my works-based righteousness, awakening me to the beauty of humility and brokenness, teaching me the essence of real love, showing me depths of his character I had never yet seen. And this is the testimony of his grace: that I still believe. That I still believe he is gracious and good, even when I can’t see what he is doing. That, two years after Kapic’s doctrine, I’ve finally learned to “embrace the mystery”; to love what I don’t understand, to rest and trust in the midst of unanswered questions. Perhaps I will still want to ask “why” when I see his face, but I think more likely his face will be enough. I am content to simply know him more deeply than I ever have before. In my pain, I have found a God who is bigger than I ever imagined. And so I have hope. I don’t know what he is doing, but that is just part of the adventure. And if this is what following God really means—not sunshine and happiness, but hardship and toil—than I am certain that I am not the first to tread these deep waters. The “crowd of witnesses” that Hebrews mentions probably understood exactly what I am talking about, as well as a host of other believers around the world. “In this world you will face hardship…but take heart! I have overcome the world.” In the midst of the darkness, there is a surfacing light.

And so I wrote a song.

Surfacing Light

God is light

In him there is no darkness—

Seems like a lie

When you can’t see the brightness

 

Through gritted teeth

A voiceless cry, an angry quest

You were unseen

My heart enshrouded with bitterness

 

Last goodbyes

Lord, don’t you care if we drown?

But if you’d been here…

The door closed, my heart sank down

 

If you’d been here

Question hanging on our lips

And I felt the tears

As hope wept, by anger gripped

 

Death grows old

I asked for no stone

A softly speaking hope

Shouts in my fears, when I’m alone

 

A softly speaking hope

The voice that I knew

Lifts a shroud of cold

Announces the awakening of all things new

 

I AM

The alpha and omega

Hello, goodbye

I AM

Do you believe this?

I am the death and the life

I am the surfacing light