In The Middle
"Struggling and rejoicing are not two chronological steps, one following the other, but two concurrent movements, one fluid in the other."
Ann Voskamp
I don't know how she does it, but this author, writer, mom, follower of Christ - she always seems to know how to voice what's trapped inside my head. Her words have carried me through some dark days in the past few years, but this Christmas, well, she's almost left me floating above it all. Her words are a balm to my wounded soul, and I wish I could thank her for them. Maybe one day I will.
But not tonight.
Tonight I will share what the Lord has been so gracious to share with me in this season.
The gift of Himself.
But here's the kicker...I had to receive the gift and choose to open it.
I have not always been so willing to do that. Not in the dark days. Not when it hurts too much. Nope...I'd rather sit and question and voice and wallow sometimes. It's easier that way, and now I think I know why.
It's because the focus stays on me. Isn't that what we are so good at...focusing on ourselves? We think when we opt to walk through the valleys of this life with that limited perspective (like I have so many times) that we are only thinking of what is lost, that we are justified in feeling sad or hurt or angry (or all the above), that we deserve to pass the time He's gifted us without lifting our head, to disengage from our people and maybe even bring them down with us. We think that's all okay, because that's how we feel.
The problem is our feelings don't tell the whole story. Not if we acknowledge the Author of the story.
Here's what we forget when we choose to walk the valley alone and refuse to remember Him:
We forget that He is God.
We forget that He is good.
We forget that He is love.
We forget that He is for us.
We forget that He longs to be with us.
We forget that His plans are good.
We forget that we belong to Him.
We forget that He is making everything new.
We forget He came down...for us.
We forget it's Christmas all the time, because as Ann would say, "He's never not coming."
This is my sister-in-law last Christmas. I look at this picture and I feel the tears begin to flow; I just want her back so badly. I want to turn back time and be able to tell her once more that I love her. I want her to have never heard the word cancer. I want her here with me. With us.
But don't miss the beginning of each of those statements: I want.
Lysa TerKeurst would say she doesn't want to be God...until she does. Me too.
Honestly, I never really thought that's what I was asking. But I was. And I still do from time to time. And my guess is, so do you.
Receiving His gift opened my eyes, enabled me to see and remember Truth, and to notice Him at work around me, even in the midst of the greatest pain. He led me to these two writers filled with words that point me to Him, even creating a soft place to land when I just needed to fall.
Choosing to open the gift? Well, that's an on-going process. But I'm vertical, even when it still feels so much better to stay horizontal some days. I'm able to see that shifting my focus to Him is providing life even in the shadow of death. And I understand now more than ever that He is The Vine and that this branch withers quickly when it's not attached to Him. That's the active part. The choosing part. Stay attached.
Please here me when I say that none of this is EASY. And sometimes a little switch can flip, and we just can't raise our heads on our own. But sometimes we can.
Rejoicing and struggling may not seem like they should go together. And one day, they won't.
But here and now, in this life, they do.
And thankfully He creates enough space for both. So I, maybe for the first time in my life, finally feel like it's okay to walk in the middle.
Ann Voskamp
I don't know how she does it, but this author, writer, mom, follower of Christ - she always seems to know how to voice what's trapped inside my head. Her words have carried me through some dark days in the past few years, but this Christmas, well, she's almost left me floating above it all. Her words are a balm to my wounded soul, and I wish I could thank her for them. Maybe one day I will.
But not tonight.
Tonight I will share what the Lord has been so gracious to share with me in this season.
The gift of Himself.
But here's the kicker...I had to receive the gift and choose to open it.
I have not always been so willing to do that. Not in the dark days. Not when it hurts too much. Nope...I'd rather sit and question and voice and wallow sometimes. It's easier that way, and now I think I know why.
It's because the focus stays on me. Isn't that what we are so good at...focusing on ourselves? We think when we opt to walk through the valleys of this life with that limited perspective (like I have so many times) that we are only thinking of what is lost, that we are justified in feeling sad or hurt or angry (or all the above), that we deserve to pass the time He's gifted us without lifting our head, to disengage from our people and maybe even bring them down with us. We think that's all okay, because that's how we feel.
The problem is our feelings don't tell the whole story. Not if we acknowledge the Author of the story.
Here's what we forget when we choose to walk the valley alone and refuse to remember Him:
We forget that He is God.
We forget that He is good.
We forget that He is love.
We forget that He is for us.
We forget that He longs to be with us.
We forget that His plans are good.
We forget that we belong to Him.
We forget that He is making everything new.
We forget He came down...for us.
We forget it's Christmas all the time, because as Ann would say, "He's never not coming."
This is my sister-in-law last Christmas. I look at this picture and I feel the tears begin to flow; I just want her back so badly. I want to turn back time and be able to tell her once more that I love her. I want her to have never heard the word cancer. I want her here with me. With us.
But don't miss the beginning of each of those statements: I want.
Lysa TerKeurst would say she doesn't want to be God...until she does. Me too.
Honestly, I never really thought that's what I was asking. But I was. And I still do from time to time. And my guess is, so do you.
Receiving His gift opened my eyes, enabled me to see and remember Truth, and to notice Him at work around me, even in the midst of the greatest pain. He led me to these two writers filled with words that point me to Him, even creating a soft place to land when I just needed to fall.
Choosing to open the gift? Well, that's an on-going process. But I'm vertical, even when it still feels so much better to stay horizontal some days. I'm able to see that shifting my focus to Him is providing life even in the shadow of death. And I understand now more than ever that He is The Vine and that this branch withers quickly when it's not attached to Him. That's the active part. The choosing part. Stay attached.
Please here me when I say that none of this is EASY. And sometimes a little switch can flip, and we just can't raise our heads on our own. But sometimes we can.
Rejoicing and struggling may not seem like they should go together. And one day, they won't.
But here and now, in this life, they do.
And thankfully He creates enough space for both. So I, maybe for the first time in my life, finally feel like it's okay to walk in the middle.
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