When Things Don't Change...

As I awoke with pain, I sighed. I’m weary. My weekly headaches are getting old. Countless Lyme treatments are getting discouraging. I’m just feeling “done” with all the thousands of dollars of health investments, bloodwork, and doctor’s appointments. 

Yes, health is an investment, and an important one. But sometimes I think we invest in our health to get certain results–to lose weight, to have more energy, to feel better, to feel “normal" again. And when we make those investments with no return, it feels pointless.

The same is true for life and the battle against sin.

What sin do you primarily struggle with? I think we all have at least one… that thing that seems to crouch at the door all the time? Sometimes it feels like it’ll never go away, that no matter how hard we fight it, it’s still right there, reminding us of its presence. It can make it seem like holiness is losing battle. (I don’t say this to negate dependence on Jesus or sanctification, just the reality of how it can feel in a fallen world)

But I think the problem is, we often fight with the motivation of results–not love of God. And that’s something God’s been reminding me of lately.

Honestly, the first thing on my mind when I take my pile of supplements or my daily Lyme tinctures is not love for God and faithfully honoring Him with my limitations and body–it’s a desire to be healed. My response when my Lyme test is still positive 8 years later is a discouraging, “nothing works”.

And the battles with remaining sin can feel the same way.

Granted, hating sin is a good thing. Desiring healing is a good thing. But I have to continually release my grip of attempted control of my life. Continually submit my desires for healing to the God who does what is best for me. Even if that means pain will be by companion until death.

Isn’t that how we should approach our sin too? Let go of the desire to keep the behavior under control or to appear to be doing well in our pursuit of holiness (what an irony!). Instead, we must submit our desires to God. We must ask for His grace and mercy to love and honor Him in our struggle with sin, versus asking Him to take it away.

One day, pain will be a distant memory. Our former battle with sin will be a past reminder of God’s grace and patience with us. Joy will be our constant companion. Brokenness will be restored. All will be made new.

Or as Christopher Ash says, “God is remaking a broken world.”

And that’s where I rest today.

I lost some of the best years of my life.

Chronic illness smacked me upside the head, and suddenly my life was gone. My dreams, hopes, and aspirations vanished. I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing anymore.

During 5 years of pursuing root diagnoses and working through various treatments, I remained stuck with very little life. As a type-A firstborn, you can imagine how infuriating this was to me. At one point in treatment I couldn't work at all. I mostly slept and forced myself to shower, cook food occasionally, or do dishes; all slow, difficult tasks at the time. I couldn’t run a quick errand without crashing for the rest of the day. Everything was miserable. 

Looking back over my twenties, it sometimes feels like part of my life was stolen. Your twenties are supposed to be time of learning, exploring, and making an impact. It’s probably the best part of life… at least the season you have the most energy, drive, enthusiasm, and ambition.

And yet here I was, in bed, not sure how I could make it another day.

What about you? Do you feel like you’ve lost some of the best years of your life too?

It’s excruciatingly difficult, no matter what you're facing. And yet for me, that season of extreme weakness, isolation, and massive limitations made me reconsider my purpose and my identity in ways I never had. 

Honestly, I still don’t know where I'm going in the next 10 years. My life is still slower than most, despite gradual healing. But I do know this: My God is faithful and does not waste anything. 

The years of extreme pain and debilitating fatigue are not for nothing, because my Father is a redeeming God (Joel 2:25, Psalm 126:5). My pain has been God’s method of grace to me, softening my rough edges, producing grace and compassion, and helping me see eternity for what it is. The detour has been my road. A painful and rocky one, yes. But one filled with countless evidence of God’s love and care, if I can only look hard enough to see past the pain. 

That’s what He wants you to see too--His nearness and gentleness and care. And then watch Him redeem the years you lost, and find that gain to be even better.

“And somehow every unexpected climb

Makes Your goodness that much harder to deny

You’ve been good to me I am safe to hope

I will dare to believe when the way is long and slow

And I am full of doubt but You are kind and close

I will trust the detour is the road

This time will not be wasted

All the sorrow I have tasted

You sing hope across the valley of my tears

Sometimes love looks like delay

But You walk me through the wait

And I am learning laughter even here

You are with me here”

The Detour from the album Faithful, various artists

Living with Scars

My body doesn’t heal as well as it should. 

I have a scar on my ankle from scratching myself with a large stick 8 months ago. Yes, a stick.

I laugh, but sometimes I'm a little frustrated with the reminders that my body has not healed from chronic illness yet. The scars still remind me of what a long, difficult journey this has been, and point out my ongoing lack. 

What about you? Do your scars discourage you too?

Maybe you still feel a twinge of pain whenever something reminds you of past hurt. 

Perhaps Christmas is still a difficult reminder of the loss of a loved one. 

No matter how hard you try, maybe your health just won’t improve.

Despite desperate attempts, your marriage or another important relationship remains broken.

It might be your choices that have reaped pain for you, or those you love. 

Or maybe you just experienced loss in general in 2020, and this empty Christmas season vividly reminds you of it.

Often we hide our scars, feeling shame or guilt. We force a smile and pretend they don't exist. We wish they would just disappear. Yet they just continue to remind us of the brokenness of life even when buried deep within.

I wish I could tell you that your scars will go away. But that would be naive. It's possible they may continue to remind you of past hurt. But that doesn't mean healing can't take place. A scar is much different from an open wound that gushes blood every time it's hit again.

Jesus wants to bring healing to your wounds. He desires to take those places of brokenness, pain, and heartache and transform it into something beautiful. Your pain does not have to define you.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." Ps. 34:18

Your scars can be transformed into something beautiful. They can enable you to reach others you would never be able to understand or have compassion towards. Your particular scars provide a unique opportunity for you to love and minister to others who are hurting.

But first you need some healing. Emmanuel (God with us) comes near to dwell with YOU. He wants to comfort and heal your heart.

Will you come to Him?

Life is Hard: Facing the Tough Things with Hope

When I was young, I was scared of suffering and persecution. I wondered if I could stay faithful to Christ under torture. I wanted to follow God, but I questioned if I could endure physical pain, isolation, or rejection, should that come my way.

I loved my home, my family, my comfort, and my community, and I didn't want to lose it.

But in a heartbeat, everything changed. The community I was deeply invested in and trusted, turned on me and my family. Betrayal stung deeper than physical pain. Grief clung like a shadow, reminding me every time I looked at it, of deep loss.

Yet it didn't end. Then came chronic illness. Worsening symptoms for no apparent reason, extreme limitations and pain when I tried to do things I loved, brought more loss and grief. Everything about me, everything that defined me, was suddenly gone. 

I didn't even know who I was anymore. I wanted to give up on God, on my faith. Nothing seemed worth it. 

Faithfulness to Christ hasn't meant a life of abandon on the mission field currently, as I frequently envisioned as a child. It hasn't required prison time, secret church meetings, beatings, or torture. No, but following Christ has still been far more difficult than I imagined... 

It's meant clinging to Christ when everyone in our church turned on us. 

It's meant doing what was right when things were incredibly wrong and unjust. 

It's meant facing hurt and betrayal so deep from people we called friends that it left permanent scars. 

It's meant enduring horrible physical pain and fatigue and isolation.

It's meant walking through lyme and co-infection treatment that I felt would kill me.

It's meant battling my deepest fears and hurt and not denouncing God. 

It's meant experiencing the darkest hopelessness and not taking my own life.

It's meant not rejecting God even though I wanted to blame him for everything horrible that happened.

Those things display a little of what taking up my cross has looked like for me. Most of my suffering has been in silence. It's come from the church, not outside God-haters. It's been in the isolation due to infections in my body, not isolated imprisonment by others. The "backwardness" of my suffering caused me to question everything I believed.

What hard things has God asked you to walk through? Maybe it's not the the pain of persecution or torture. But that doesn't mean it's not just as hard. 

Whatever pain and heartache you wrestle with matters to God. Your questions, anger, and doubt are met with grace and compassion. Scars may remain, but you can experience healing. The trials are God's way of reclaiming your heart, revealing areas where you love something else more than Him. And in that difficult, sanctifying work of suffering, Jesus shines brighter:

"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies." 2 Cor. 4:8-10

Your suffering produces a beautiful reflection of Christ in you and makes you more sensitive to the hurting people around you. It can help you to love betters and stay focused on what really matters.

And that is a value greater than diamonds.

When Fear Threatens to Take Over

I woke up with a few itchy hives, and fear battled for control of my thoughts. Normally hives wouldn't be a source of fear, but after 15 weeks of chronic hives, my mind immediately spins:

What if they don’t go away? What if they get really severe again?

It was a nightmare. Several months ago, a few random hives started up for unknown reasons. I thought they'd go away. But after gradually getting worse over a few weeks, I knew something wasn't right.

After a severe, painful hives explosion that I thought might send me to the ER (during COVID), my doctor prescribed several meds that I’ve been on for around 10 weeks now. And they made a huge difference. I thought the hives were pretty much gone.

But today fear and panic set the tone for my day when a handful of hives bugged me again (even with meds).

Life is hard, and so much is outside of our control. One day I’m making it just fine and proud of my health progress, the next day pain and fatigue take over and I’m helplessly crying again, discouraged about my limitations.

Weakness threatens all forms of self-sufficiency. It combats pride in my success or accomplishments. It tells me, “you can’t do this.” And that's when fear laughs.

Fear, in and of itself, is not wrong. But as Paul Tripp says, it makes a very bad master. Fear can drive me to despair and hopelessness. 

Or it can point me to the One where true hope is found.

When my lack of control stares me in the face and I don’t know what next week or even tomorrow will look like, I have to consciously stop the spiral of fearful thoughts and choose to focus on what’s true today: 

God is in control. 

He is faithful. 

My life might be hard, but He is still good. 

God has not left me alone.

While I don’t know what will happen tomorrow and whether my health will see improvement or another crisis, I know there will be sufficient grace then. Manna grace as I like to think of it—the kind Israel experienced in the day-by-day provision of their most basic needs. Not the kind of grace that takes us out of the hard, but the kind of grace we actually need.

So while my life hasn’t looked like I “planned”, and even though healing still includes ups and downs, God is still there. He has not left me. He is not wasting my pain—but redeeming it, somehow. He will not allow anything that is not for my benefit.

It may not be what I want. But somehow, it will still be good.

And that’s what I’m clinging to today.

To those stuck at home....

This has been a crazy time across our nation, with many stay at home orders in place. Perhaps you’re feeling frustrated, stir crazy, unproductive, or limited.

Maybe it’s not because you need to do anything, but your lack of ability to choose where you go or what you do makes you feel stuck.

I get that.

For a year and a half, I was stuck at home in the intensity of chronic lyme + co-infection treatment. Venturing out of my home once a week was a sign of a good week, and usually only for an hour or two, to run an errand or make it to church.

I despised the “stuck” feeling, yet my pain, fatigue, and constantly fluctuating symptoms made it extremely unmotivating to go out. Feeling paralyzed and purposeless, clinging to hope in the slow treatment season was incredibly difficult.

My body was my limitation and it kept me from doing everything I wanted to do.

Today, most of us are stuck at home to some extent. As we're limited in what we can do, let's allow that to increase our compassion for our friends and family members whose limitations keep them from getting out most of the time. That stuck feeling you feel right now? They face it too. That fear of not knowing exactly when this will end? They battle that daily.

Except unlike COVID-19, those with chronic illness have no guarantee it will end. Will this be the rest of life? It could be. They walk moment-by-moment, getting just enough “manna” to make it through the day, not knowing how they can do it again tomorrow.

And somehow, they still do. Because God's grace is sufficient (2 Cor. 12:8-10).

His grace is sufficient for you in this season of job loss, sickness, and unknowns. And it is sufficient for the friend or family member stuck at home with chronic illness.

You now have a fresh understanding of the pain and frustration those with chronic illness face daily. You may not have the exact same struggles, but God can use this season of unknown to cultivate grace in your heart for others.

So love those around you. Be patient and gentle (Rom. 12:10, Eph. 4:2). Extend grace. You can’t always see the internal battles others face.

While you’re waiting to get back to normal life, remember that the chronically ill are desperate to get back any semblance of normal life too. They hate being stuck as much as you.

Let's remember that uncertainty, weakness, and limitations are meant to direct us to the One who has no limitations or needs. They're meant to remind us that we are not self-sufficient. The frustration you feel today is part of life in a broken world. In the unknowns of the future and the limitations of today, may we find God faithful and good--more than ever before.

"May you be strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light."

Colossians 1:11-12

Holding Out Hope

What are you holding out hope for?

We all grasp for hope in some form, because that’s how we’re wired. And right now, with a pandemic sweeping the nation, we're all holding out hope for things to go back to normal.

Just like winter holds out hope of spring, I’ve been holding out hope too. Hope that I would reach some semblance of “normal life” again.

Not normal in same category of my energy and life pre-chronic illness. But not “stuck in bed half the day after a grocery store run” either. Not pain that causes me to stop everything. Just the ability to work and to enjoy life again.

And I’m slowly getting there.

It's a long journey, and not without extreme challenges--continually learning to pace, how to handle "crash days", riding the rollercoaster of daily symptoms (which are milder overall, but not gone), and facing the emotional toll of life with limitations. I'm learning that the journey to healing is a challenge in and of itself.

Countless questions run through my head. Fear can overwhelm and direct those thoughts and questions.

And I bet you feel that right now too, in some way.

If you're desperately longing for hope and feeling like nothing is ever going to work, please don’t give up yet. Let's walk on this journey together. And may we find that as we face our deepest fears and hardest days, God is near. Underneath our cold, wintery exteriors, God gently softens our hearts, bringing healing where there is hurt and brokenness.

Just like winter begins to melt and bright buds spark excitement, bringing hope that the dreary winter will not last forever, hope is within reach for you too.

Will you draw near with me to the One who IS hope?

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” Lamentations 3:24

Broken, but Beautiful

You thought things were going okay, when suddenly you find yourself sinking under the weight of loss, struggles, pain, your past, or life changes. You don't even know what just happened. All you know is that you feel terribly broken.

The disciples felt something like this on the boat during a huge storm. They were sure they were going to sink, and Jesus was going to sleep through it. Get this: they had Jesus, the Lord over the wind and waves, with them... but the storm threatened, and they freaked out, yelling at Jesus, "We're dying!" (Luke 8:22-25)

I resonate with the disciples' plight. I have a heavenly Father who walks with me through every moment of pain and difficulty, and yet sometimes I freak out or blame Him for the pain. I might even say something similar the disciples, "What are you doing God? I'm gonna die."

Do you ever feel this way?

The journey towards healing--whether that's from painful past hurt, chronic health problems, or your own life choices, is a long, strenuous one. We all walk through deep brokenness, and it impacts each of us in different, but weighty, ways.

Sometimes that brokenness leaves us feeling empty and without words. No one understands. We know we need to cast the burden on the Father, but we can't even munger up any words. That's ok. You can still cry out:

"God, help me. I can't do this."

God is there. He hears your cry and He answers. The Spirit intercedes for you with groanings to deep for words (Rom. 8:26). Wow, let that one seep in! As you cry out, allow God to comfort your heart (Ps. 94:19, 18:2). He is near to the brokenhearted (Ps. 34:18).

Another powerful truth: God not only wants to comfort you in your pain, but He wants to use your brokenness for good. It may enable you to reach a person you could have never reached before. It may give you grace and sympathy for others who are struggling. Your pain demonstrates this incredible reality:

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us." 2 Cor. 4:7

I've heard it explained that the imagery of us being "clay pots" implies that we're easily chipped or broken. But that's how God does His best work. He uses the things that are weak, the things others would overlook, to showcase His strength.

So let God work through you, a broken vessel, perfecting you and revealing His power (2 Cor. 12:9). When life is crushing, remember that He is producing beauty in and through your brokenness. Cry out to Him in your weakness, and let Him demonstrate His power.

He will use you more powerfully than you can imagine.

What's the point of this pain?

Do you ever ask yourself, "What's the point of all this pain?"

I do.

I'm trying two new IV treatments which involve me driving 4.5 hours round trip to my doctor once or twice a week. Phew. The rest of my time is spent recovering from driving and treatment and keeping up with basic tasks! I didn't expect another intense treatment round, so it was a very discouraging idea at first. To me, it's kind of a last-resort type of thing to improve lingering pain/fatigue from my years of chronic lyme, co-infections, and autoimmune issues. Thankfully, I'm stable enough to make this drive (HUGE praise!), even though it's exhausting.

Though from the outside this treatment appears hopeful, I have battled a lot of fear. There are many unknowns. About health. Finances. Future. Whether this will make a difference. And many more things...

Can I be honest? The last five years of my life have been one thing after another. I'm tired of living day-by-day. Tired of all the unknowns, the rollercoaster of symptoms and emotions, the physical overreactions to stress, the sudden inability to push through "normal life"... the forced rest, slow pace, mundane.

I'm weary of it all.

Starting new treatment felt like I was choosing to walk through hell. Again. I was very resistant at first. It is still painful for me to recall the excruciating physical pain and fatigue that's resulted from lyme/co-infection treatment. But often what scares me more than physical symptoms is the accompanying deep depression. It has been a long, strenuous battle.

The planner side of me longs for a future. Things to look forward to and to work towards. I long for some semblance of a normal life. Slowing down again to focus on treatment and live day-by-day was not on my agenda!

Then I remember, how long did the Israelites wander through the wilderness, forced to daily rely on God for the most basic need (of food)?

Forty years.

In that long season, God was proving Himself trustworthy to Israel. Over and over. Through their lack, He was teaching them to lean on Him. This was a work of grace. Even in their anger and accusations against God, He continued to demonstrate His kindness to His people.

And He's doing the same for me. For you.

So what's the point of this pain? While I don't have all the answers, I know it is slowly helping me cling to the God, who deserves my trust. To lean on Him instead of myself. To taste and see that He is good, even when life is not. In the midst of the pain, His kindness and care and gentleness are evident, if I will only open my eyes to it.

God may not feel trustworthy to you right now because of the deep pain and heartache you face. It's ok to wrestle in that way. But He has not abandoned you in your wilderness. He displays His love and care for you in your deepest darkness. And the One who has redeemed you will not let you go. Cling to the Rock, and let Him comfort your heart today.

To the one who wants to die....

I see you there, wrestling with the deep pain, trauma, and heartache.
I see the anger rising up when you think about what's been done to you.
I see the extreme pain and fatigue in your eyes from chronic illness.
I see the fear when you meet a new person, wondering if you can actually trust them.
I see the cynicism and hopelessness as you look toward the future.
I see you longing for some inkling of hope, afraid to admit your deep struggle with depression and suicidal thinking.

Can I sit with you a minute?

I know I can't write anything to take away your pain--physical, mental, or emotional. I know I can't fix it. I can't make life better. I can't even promise that this life will get better, as hard as that is to say. But I can offer a hand and a few words of hope, if you'll give me a chance.

In darkness and hopelessness, there seems to be no way out. But catch a glimpse of this:

"Hopelessness is the only doorway to hope." Paul Tripp, Suffering

How is this possible?

You see, hopelessness actually pushes us to decide where to place our hope. It destroys the places we thought brought hope, but really were empty. Only when we let go of our semblance of control and abandon the false securities and temporary fixes, can we find true hope.

Hopelessness then becomes the doorway between false hope and real hope.

It's ok to wrestle. It's ok to cry out, "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?" (Ps. 13:1-2).  But God longs for that despair to turn us from hope in ourselves to the only place of true, lasting hope. As David ends his cries in Psalm 13:

"But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me."

Your heart may not be in a place of singing or rejoicing right now. And that's ok. But keep clinging to Christ in the dark. Don't give up. Let that hopelessness remind you that there's only One who can provide eternal hope. Hope that does not disappoint (Rom. 5:5).

Today's hard has purpose (2 Cor. 4:17). The depression and pain has a set end (Ps. 34:19, 1 Pet. 5:10). God has promised and He is faithful (Heb. 10:23). Land on that.

Praying you find hope today in Him.


*In light of national suicide prevention month, this was written out of a desire to bring hope to those who struggle with suicidal thinking. This is written from my own wrestlings to cling to hope throughout deep challenges in chronic illness. 

A Good Life

A year ago today I was speaking truth to my heart through tears, hopelessness, and despair.

I desperately wanted life to end, but knew I couldn’t take mine. So I cried out to God, asking why life was so insanely hard. My birthday was full of reminders of broken relationships, broken dreams, and a broken body.

So many times I have questioned the purpose of the last four years of chronic illness and hard circumstances. I've angrily asked God why He took my dreams from me--good dreams of ministry and service to Him. I've wrestled to find purpose in deep pain and loss. I've doubted that my life had any value.

In the pain and heartache last year, I wrote this:

"God isn’t looking for my success. He wants my faithfulness. Right now, in this season, life looks significantly different from what I expected. But that doesn’t mean that my life is a waste. And neither is yours."

Life still isn't what I hoped. My life has been redirected and redefined.

And that's ok.

Everyone reaches a point where dreams die or sorrows swallow. A broken, sin-cursed world causes everything to be laced with pain. The only way to survive those seasons of unbelievable grief or loss is through Christ holding you.

I still have daily reminders that I am limited. Pain and fatigue quickly grab hold and threaten to take over my day. Fear can cause me to wonder if my goals are stupid and unrealistic and will set me back again. Countless questions run through my mind as I slowly heal and consider what next. What will my life will be like for the next month, 6 months, or year? I don't know, but I don't have to know it all.

Despite questions, unknowns, and wrestlings, I have much more hope than I did a year ago! God has carried me through my deepest difficulties I've yet known, when I didn't think I could make it. I have seen progress in my health that I didn't think was possible. I have goals I'm working towards and things I can do now that were unimaginable a couple years ago.

Your hopes for life may be crushed, but God believes that your life has purpose and can be pleasing to Him. Right here and now. Your life may have changed, but He has not. There is a source of hope and even joy that can be found amidst great heartache.

So keep pressing forward. Keep creating goals. Keep looking for ways to bless others. Keep looking up. A good life is not defined by accomplishments, success, or the approval of others, but by faithfulness and dependence on God. 

That is an attainable goal today.

Book Review: The Promise is His Presence

I had the privilege of being part of a book launch for the brand-new book, The Promise is His Presence: Why God is Always Enough, by Glenna Marshall.

Glenna speaks out of much suffering, including two things that resonated deeply with me: chronic illness and church pain. She talks about the many unmet longings we wrestle with in suffering and how it’s easy to believe that if God would grant our heart’s desires (especially good desires!), we would be fulfilled.

And yet through her season of lack, Glenna shares how God’s withholding of good things taught her to cling more closely to Him. She gently, but powerfully, comforts with the promise of God's presence being more than enough. No matter the pain or heartache we face.

Weaving the narrative of Scripture throughout her book, Glenna encourages readers by showing how God’s presence sustains and brings hope in the midst of difficult circumstances. She also shares honest glimpses of how God brought her personally to a place of resting in this truth of God being enough.

I love the way she expresses it in chapter one:

“Whatever plagues your heart with longing cannot be answered satisfactorily outside God’s faithful presence. He might give you every tangible desire you could ever dream up, but if your heart is not satisfied in Him, you will never stop yearning for more.”

Anyone who has suffered will tell you that God met them in deeper ways than they ever encountered in seasons of blessings and fulfillment. They realize the emptiness of temporary things. The truth of God's nearness sustains and strengthens through the darkest of days. His presence is the only place of rest and security.

No matter where you find yourself today, you will find encouragement and hope in this book. Take a moment to order!

With a Mountain Before You

Do you ever argue with God?

"I can't do this...."
"What you're asking is too much...."
"This is impossible...."

Sometimes life just doesn't make sense to us, and we grapple to find hope or purpose when there's a mountain before us. Much-Afraid, in Hinds' Feet for High Places, showcases the same struggle:

“Oh Shepherd, you said you would make my feet like hinds’ feet and set me upon High Places.”

“Well,” he answered cheerily, “the only way to develop hinds’ feet is to go by the path which the hinds use—like this one.”

Much-Afraid trembled and looked at him shamefacedly. “I don’t think...I want...hinds’ feet, if it means I have to go on a path like that,” she answered painfully.

“Oh yes you do,” he answered cheerfully. “I know you better than you know yourself, Much-Afraid. You want it very much indeed, and I promise you these hinds’ feet.

“But I never dreamed you would do anything like this! Lead me to an impassable precipice up which nothing can go but deer and goats, when I’m no more like a deer or a goat than is a jellyfish… Why it’s too preposterously absurd! Whatever will you do next?”

“I love doing preposterous things,” the Shepherd replied, “Why, I don’t know anything more exhilarating and delightful than turning weakness into strength, and fear into faith, and that which has been marred into perfection.”
- Hinds’ Feet on High Places, Hannah Hurnard

Like Much-Afraid. sometimes it seems like God asks too much of me—that it's "preposterous". Or at times, I don't desire the end result enough to motivate me through the painful process.

But you know what's comforting in the midst of the mountains we don't want to climb?

It's not up to us.

While that can seem incredibly discouraging to our control-crazy selves, this is actually a wonderful benefit to us.

God always provides circumstances what will be best for us in the long-run. Not temporarily easy circumstances or perhaps what we want. But He is a loving Father who always does things for our good. He sees all, while we see only a tiny portion. God's not punishing us; He's doing what He knows will bring the greatest good.

If we surrender our wills and let Him gently push us in areas we don't want to go, we will bear greater fruit and benefit in our lives than we ever thought possible.

Let's trust Him. Let's rest in His goodness and care. That mountain may feel impossible, but God delights in revealing His strength in the impossible.

Complexity of Life

If there’s one thing I’ve learned the last few years, it’s that life is far more complicated than I ever imagined.

The brokenness of this world, the physical breaking down of our bodies, the curse of sin, the idolatry of our own hearts, the many emotions that God has created us with—all contribute to the complex human beings that we are.

And put two people together, combined with different life experiences, challenges, expectations and sin patterns, and you have a recipe for disaster. This is why marriages, families, churches, and ministries are so often a mess.

Because life is so complex, counseling another believer is also greater than merely presenting biblical truth. I firmly believe that the Bible has answers and applies to all of life. But situations are not as black-and-white as I once perceived, and that makes discipling, counseling, or mentoring far different from, “Here’s the truth; just apply it.”

As Job's friends were terrible comforters, we can do the same when we tell someone in deep suffering trite phrases like, "God is working this out for your good!" While this is a true statement, it is not what someone needs to hear in that moment:

“Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda.” Proverbs 25:20

As Proverbs informs, our words, though perhaps well-intentioned, can hurt much more than we realize. I've recognized this as people have responded to my chronic health issues. I think sometimes, in our quick-fix culture, we want to solve the problem for someone. Yet biblical help requires time to patiently listen and wisdom to understand and discern what is really going on.

I am the first to admit that I have been way too quick to fix people’s problems. The more I experience chronic illness and suffering's effects, and the more I write about it, the more I realize I don’t know. People are complex. Life is hard. Sin is strong.

But Jesus is greater.

You see, to face the complexity of life with hope, we need more than truth to obey or something to distract from the pain. We need someone in whom we can rest our hope. We need Jesus. And we need to point others to Jesus, and not simply to what they need to do.

Let's be careful to not oversimplify life and counsel and forget that we are working with complex, hurting human beings. Point the person you’re helping to a loving Father who offers comfort, forgiveness, healing, and hope. To the God who walks with them.

Let's help people find Jesus: a powerful Savior, perfect Comforter, and great Sustainer through the pain and complexity of life.


*Additional note: Dave Furman has a book titled "Being There: How to Love Those Who Are Hurting" that is one of the best books I've read on helping others. In it he shares 10 practical things to NOT do with someone who is suffering. I highly encourage everyone to read it!

Facing Your Frailty

Do you feel frail today? Are your limitations, weaknesses, and sins at the forefront of your mind?

God knows our frailty and does not despise it:

"As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.”
Psalm 103:13-14

The all-powerful God is a compassionate and gentle Father. He knows we are weak. He doesn't expect perfection, He asks for our humble dependence.

Dependence is only possible through the redeeming work of the gospel in our hearts. The gospel levels all of us to the same need: the need for a Savior.

You can face your frailty with hope today because nothing you do changes your standing as a child of God. Not your success, performance, achievements, or anything else. It's the imparting of Christ's righteousness, not your own, that makes you blameless. The gospel provides the only way to face our human frailty without feeling like a failure.

Thus the gospel brings hope to the worst sin, the darkest struggles, and the hardest pain. This means...

• When you respond sinfully again, you can turn to Him and find forgiveness (1 Jn 1:9).
• When you become fearful and anxious, you can find comfort in the Savior who will never leave you (Heb. 13:5).
• When you are stuck on your bed in pain, you can find hope in the truth that God isn't wasting anything (1 Pet. 1:6-7).
• When all around you is falling apart, you can run to the Rock and find shelter (Ps. 18:2).

God sympathizes and cares for you in your weakness and frailty. He doesn't ask you to be strong. He wants you to experience His strength in your weakness:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

If you battle chronic illness, your frailty may be more evident than the average person. But it's not a bad thing to feel frail. It means you are human, and you need Jesus and gospel hope to face your frailty.

And that is true for all of us.

Facing a New Year with Hope

Does your life feel hopeless right now? Dreading this new year because of what it potentially holds? Is your life on a trajectory you never would’ve wanted?

I don’t know what you’ve walked through, but I know this:

Suffering impacts us deeply.

The last several years I’ve faced a lot of different types of pain. I’ve experienced the deepest heartache, betrayal, and disappointments I’ve known. It's impossible to summarize all the things that have happened. But as for long-term impact, chronic illness has been the most life-shattering.

Many chronic illness sufferers find themselves stuck because life is no longer as it used to be. A job may be impossible because of severe symptoms. Perhaps marriage is no longer an option, or to have children. Unable to work, I had to return to live with my parents in my mid-20s, while my dad covered all my health and living expenses (not cheap!!). It was very discouraging for me as I wanted to be able to at least contribute to my own burden.

No matter your specific situation, if this new year feels more hopeless than hopeful, I want to encourage you through four ways...

Fear Meets Truth
One of ways to face the new year with hope is to combat fear with truth. Actively bring to mind the things you know to be true. Things like:

• God walks through the deepest waters with you (Is. 43:2).
• God is your refuge and strength (Ps. 46:1-3).
• Jesus emptied Himself that you might find lasting freedom and life (Phil. 2:6-8).
• God cares so much that He keeps count of your tears (Ps. 56:8).
• This is temporary (2 Cor. 4:17).

Despair Meets Comfort
No matter what you face today—you can experience comfort. Comfort in the presence of Jesus walking with you. Comfort knowing that this is will end. Comfort that God is in the process of redeeming the messiest situation. Comfort that it all has purpose. Turn and find comfort in the God who cares for you.

Longing Meets Fulfillment
Longing is part of living in a broken world. Loneliness, brokenness, and disappointment is normal, even for believers, and it may make this new year feel incredibly discouraging. But one day, all our longings will be completely fulfilled in Christ. For now, let the desperate longings help you to long for something better, something greater:

"...He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you." 1 Pet. 1:3-4

Brokenness Meets Hope
Sometimes our disappointment comes from the brokenness within and around us. Lost job, shattered relationship, bankruptcy, abuse, betrayal, the death of a dream....the list goes on. The brokenness of the world hits hard, and there are very real difficulties to grieve over and wrestle with. Yet in the midst, we have to cling to where real hope is found:

“True lasting hope is never found horizontally. It’s only ever found vertically, at the feet of the Messiah, the One who is hope. Place your hopeful heart in his hands today.” Paul Tripp

No matter where 2018 left you, or what fears and hopes you timidly hold for 2019, remember that comfort can be found on the most uncertain of days. We have a Savior who entered our brokenness, took on our despair and longing, and made a way to destroy our fears and suffering forever.

Only in Christ can you face 2019 with hope.

When No One Understands

The car waved me on in front of them. I reluctantly stepped into the road, even though I wanted to wait for them to pass. I hated people watching me walk. I moved like a grandma with a cane instead of the quick young person I used to be. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. My legs felt like lead trying to lift them.

While I trudged across, the car honked at me for walking so slowly. I almost burst into tears, but managed to hold it together long enough to pick up my few items from the store before I completely crashed from the sensory overload and fatigue. I broke down crying when I got back to my car.

As embarrassing and discouraging as it was, having a stranger frustrated with me was nothing compared to times friends or family wondered if I was really as sick as I claimed. Was I just being dramatic? It is so difficult to explain chronic illness, and even harder for the people you know to understand.

Does it seem like you're alone too?
Do you ever feel as though no one understands what you’re going through?
Is your suffering so difficult that those around you can't seem to sympathize or help?

You’re not alone this Christmas.

While the Christmas story seems full of hope and joy and nostalgia, there were some very hard circumstances surrounding that historical account. Giving birth to the Son of God was not all joy and ease.

Think about Mary, the mother of Jesus. She was told she would carry the Messiah. This is the greatest and most humbling privilege in the world! And yet she was met with opposition and judgment. People thought she had been immoral. Her reputation was forever ruined. It was ugly, and she probably got a lot of side-glances as she walked down the road.

Sadly, she couldn't even explain to them, because they wouldn't believe her. There was nothing she could do to make them understand.

Jesus received the same response. The Savior of the world was not met with the honor and praise He deserved. He was mocked by the people He came to save (Mt. 13:55). He was despised and rejected by men (Is. 53:3). His own people wouldn’t receive Him (Jn. 1:11).

However, it’s because Jesus endured mistreatment that He can sympathize with us (Heb. 4:15). It's because He was separated from the Father and experienced the worst type of aloneness that we are never left alone.

So if you feel hopeless this Christmas because no one can understand what you're going through, remember that you're not alone.

Jesus walked the worst road of loneliness, rejection, and misunderstanding so that we can find everlasting hope and comfort. He offers acceptance and understanding no mere person can provide. May the hope of the gospel, that God has made a way for forgiveness and acceptance through His Son, bring hope to you this season, even when no one else understands.

Chronic Illness Lessons: Learning to Grieve

First in a new series!

There is a type of inevitable grief that comes with chronic illness. The loss of a job, friends, hobbies, and more, due to declining health, make the present and the future dark. Not knowing if it'll ever improve causes the loss to feel even more unbearable. Just as an amputee is forced to learn to live with the loss of a limb, a chronically ill person has to learn to live with newfound limitations. This, and the emotions that coincide, are some of the greatest challenges.

One of my biggest losses in chronic illness was the piano. I played the piano for 17 years before it was suddenly stripped away. Every time I attempted to play, my pain would become excruciating. Eventually, I stopped trying. I questioned whether I had lost that gift for good.

In my battle with chronic illness, one of the lessons I've learned is that it's ok to grieve. I've been on a journey of learning how to lament. To cry out to God in the pain. To take the emotions to my heavenly Father instead of burying them deep inside.

For a long time I thought I just had to be content and joyful with my chronic illness, and it was perpetually frustrating that it was so hard for me. Every day I was stuck on my bed I would be discouraged and frustrated, which in turn propelled more frustration that I couldn't just accept it! Why couldn't I just "grin and bear it"? After all, it wasn't anything new.

And then I realized God wasn't asking me to ignore the pain and just "be joyful". There's a reason the Psalms are full of laments, cries, and pleas. God is trying to teach us how to lament and grieve when we face very difficult losses. Biblically grieving losses in a broken world reflects God Himself.

The Psalms are full of very raw, honest, and desperate cries:

"How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?"
Psalm 13:1-2

"Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.
I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God."
Psalm 69:1-3

The Psalms help give words to our grief. They relate to us as we face loss and teach us what it looks like to grieve and lament in a way that honors God. Vaneetha Rendall Risner, in her book, The Scars that Have Shaped Me, talks about the implications of this truth:

"Our authenticity draws others to God as it allows them to be honest, too. God welcomes our lament to help us hold on to him. He knows that our tendency is either to pretend everything is okay (while we suffocate on the inside) or to walk away from God, believing he doesn’t care. Lamenting keeps us engaged with God. When we lament, we invite God into our pain so that we can know his comfort, and others can see that our faith is real."

Facing the difficult emotions of grief and crying out to God in lament sometimes feels wrong. It seems like we're doubting and questioning God when we shouldn't. Yet amazingly, when we lament, we are staying engaged with God, and it actually displays the genuineness of our faith to others.

So as you face losses in chronic illness, take that grief to God. Cry out to Him. Be honest about your struggles. Lament. Then let the God of all comfort be your Comforter.

Your willingness to lament encourages other sufferers more than a joyful facade ever will.

*Post based off Hope and Help for Chronic Illness

The Anointing of Suffering

Suffering. Trials. Adversity. Words we cringe at and circumstances we would avoid at all costs. However, while we desperately long to avoid difficulties, it is one of the clearest ways God refines, prepares, and sets apart.

Some of the most anointed people are ones who have greatly suffered.

Suffering’s Anointing
You may never have thought of suffering as a type of anointing. Seems contradictory, doesn’t it? It's tempting to think of suffering as God's punishment.

In the Old Testament, God anointed kings—His way of setting them apart for particular work. And I believe that suffering is one of God’s key forms of anointing believers today, preparing them for greater work.

This is backwards from the typical way we view suffering. We are quick, like Job’s friends, to self-righteously look on others who are suffering and ask, “Is not your evil abundant? There is no end to your iniquities.” (Job 22:5)

If we’re honest, I think we’re sometimes looking for a horrible reason that other people suffer and justification that we won’t suffer like them. The disciples did this when they asked Jesus if it was because of a man’s sin or his parents that he was born blind (John 9:2). Jesus’s response? “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.” (v. 3) Let’s not play God by assuming someone is suffering because of their sin.

Suffering’s Comrades
I don’t think I have to remind you of all the Scriptural examples of people who experienced significant suffering. Job. Joseph. David. Daniel. Paul. And countless others. Was it a form of discipline or punishment? Hebrews 11 tells us that it was a sign of their faith. This was God’s way of anointing and purifying His people.

Additionally, there are endless stories from history of Christians who suffered deeply. Hudson Taylor. John Patton. Charles Spurgeon. Elisabeth Elliot. Amy Carmichael. I could spend all day writing stories of the difficulties they encountered. Would anyone say it was because of his or her sin? Never!

We all long to be like these heroes of the faith. But in order to be like those saints, we would have to go through the depths of suffering that they faced. Most of us don't ponder what it took for them to become such great examples, and if we knew it all, we wouldn't choose to go through the same adversity. If you are in a season of testing through suffering, know that there are many others before you that God mightily prepared and anointed through suffering.

Suffering’s Fruit
Suffering, no matter the form, is unbelievably hard. But don’t fear suffering. Fear life going so well that you become self-reliant and independent, rendering you ineffective to love and serve those around you.

Your suffering is not wasted. It is God’s way of anointing and purifying you to prepare you for greater effectiveness. You may not even recognize the countless implications and fruit.

Your suffering produces endurance (Rom. 5:3-4).
Your suffering yields greater future glory (Rom. 8:18, Jam. 1:12, 1 Pet. 4:12-13).
Your suffering makes you a better comforter to others who are suffering (2 Cor. 1:4-5).

These are just a few examples of the fruit of suffering. Fruit you cannot produce on your own. The fruit that results from the anointing of suffering.

The Tapestry of Suffering

When I was younger, I had questions about why God kept moving us from state to state. Why I couldn't find a friend. Over the last few years I've had many doubts about church and ministry because of the deep hurt and suffering I've experienced from it. I've wondered about my future because of chronic illness, and why my dreams were taken away. There is so much about suffering that doesn't make sense in my mind.

It is normal to have doubts and questions about suffering. We question what God is doing and wonder what He is up to in our pain.

Corrie Ten Boom experienced profound suffering. Because her family hid Jews in their home, Corrie and her family were imprisoned in a Nazi Concentration Camp. Her father and sister died there. She had to wonder what God was doing. And yet God used her experiences to powerfully impact and comfort many, even after her death.

God is weaving beautiful things in your suffering that you cannot yet see.

Corrie expresses in The Tapestry poem:

My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned
He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.

God hates suffering. It is a result of the brokenness of sin. He does not delight in your pain. But the amazing thing is... He redeems it. It is never wasted.

I wouldn't ask for the trials I've faced. But I wouldn't give back the growth that God has done in my heart. I have seen little glimmers of God's work. The last few years of suffering (namely chronic illness) have immensely deepened my compassion and grace for others who are struggling. It really is true that He comforts us in our affliction so we can comfort others (2 Cor. 1:4).

Similarly, God is working beautiful things through your difficulty in ways you cannot comprehend. It is painful and sorrowful for now, because we only see the underside of the tapestry. But He loves you. He has not forgotten you in your pain.

God is weaving a beautiful tapestry out of the hurts, the disappointments, and the trials you've faced. 

It is not in vain. Let those dark threads do their work. The Weaver is wise and gentle.