Tuesday, April 24, 2012

To Know Him in His Sufferings

I have been fighting, fighting, fighting such an intense spiritual battle this past week. You too? No? The enemy has nothing to attack? I have forgotten that it is a privelege to be counted worthy of trials. I prefer the pity party as of late. I have been having a hard time trying to grasp eternity, or the magnitude of God's glory, or why it matters so much.

But then I can feel the shift beginning, and I start to rise, ever so slowly from the pit; but still I rise and catch a glimpse of it again. I feel as if I'm barely holding on to it somedays. Do you see it? Do you get it? This whole "big" picture~ beyond you and me and our lifetimes, all the way into eternity; trying to figure out what really matters.

I was encouraged reading somewhere the other day that Scripture really is all sufficient, we don't need to look beyond for any outside affirmation of God, so I go back there even more. I love the book of John: continually Jesus reminds us, "I am telling you the truth!" Continually, I am reminded that that truth matters so much. The truth of believing in Jesus which leads to eternal life in heaven matters a whole lot to Trent right now. Oh Lord, haste the day when you reign. Reading Malachi this morning ... oh my, you'll have to go read it for yourself. What offering will I be bringing before my God?

More so I realize how we all tend to hold on to this world so tightly, as if it will last forever, with little thought about the next. Alexis and I have started "fighting" over blessing others~ eternal blessings for even a cup of cold water Jesus said. For eternity? "Let me get it. Let me rise; let me suffer; let me die to myself. Use me, Lord; here I am. Let your glory come shatter me." As scary as those words are to speak out loud, they are the utterings of my heart: to have the joy of knowing Jesus in His suffering. We will not know Him in His glory if we do not know Him in His suffering, it says in Romans.

I realize over and over, especially at 3:30 in the morning, how helpless I am to fight this battle. So I entrust myself all over again to the One who is capable.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Roller Coaster

There have been good days and bad days on this rollercoaster of grief. It still surprises me when the intensity of the plummet hits. The longing for my son is intense; the hope of my Savior, though, is greater yet. I am learning to stop when I feel the start of that sinking feeling. I repeat the Promises, I hold on tighter, I simply breathe or retreat to my bed and cry myself to sleep. My fear lately is that I will forget my son. It is a battle to accept the peace from God as His grace to sustain me until I see Him face to face. Without the "forgetting" a person would go insane. But you also start to go insane realizing that you can live without your child this side of heaven. Back to the Promises; back to the brevity of this life; back to trying to comprehend just how long eternity will be and that what ultimately matters is where we are with Jesus Christ. Come now, Lord Jesus.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

For I am the Lord your God

I just let the tears fall these days; I don't even wipe them away anymore. I intentionally strain to hear their sound as they form a path down my cheeks. I think of the God who knows the sound of falling tears; the God who knows His children so intimately that He catches every drop and stores them in His bottle. The tears do not go unnoticed before His throne, as I am so easily persuaded to think that they do. The prayers go beyond my bedroom ceiling as I lie there, begging for strength.

Out of the gloom there is a reminder:

For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand,

and says to you,

"Do not fear, I will help you."

Isaiah 41:13

I forget that.

I forget that it's not by my strength, or my will power, or my motives. I forget that promise when the panic attacks hit at six in the morning. I forget that when I am jolted awake realizing again that my son is dead. I forget that he is in heaven.

I wonder why they come now, after so many months of peace about God's good plan; so many months of watching His glorious work. I wonder if it's because I'm tired: consumed by busyness of my own making, too busy to keep my eyes focused on the cross, seeking my own Kingdom rather than His.

I know that God will do all things for my good, all things that will lead me to knowing Him deeper.

I recall the verse about suffering being granted from our loving, heavenly Father: a gift.

A gift to know Him, a beckoning into fellowship, an opportunity to forsake the ways of the world if I will take it. But it is a gift with a great cost. Often times I don't want it. Gently, though, God presses in. The tears end, the peace takes over, the words flow, and grace consumes.

I will trust my Savior Jesus for where He leads me.