The Dark Side of Light

Depression follows me like a shadow, and my perspective of it shifts based on where my eyes are looking. Most often, I am looking at my family, and I see darkness and light play over their lives in varying degrees of contrast.

I see my oldest adopted son, whom has spiraled from the joyful light of living out his dreams and achieving his goals, down into the dark depths of schizophrenia. I see the shadows of paranoia, hostility, and anger that have hurt and isolated him from the people who care about him the most. I am helpless to stop the darkness from consuming my son, and the obvious contrast to the light-filled life he has left behind makes my heart ache. The years of effort and love that my family and my brother's family have invested into him causes my sense of reason to shake its fist in frustration and ask "Why? Why would God bring him to us, only to allow him to be lost like this?" Matthew 5:3 in The Message Bible says, "You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule." I am trying to come to a place where I can have hope in my son's "poorness of spirit". Jesus said that he would bless those who found themselves in the circumstance of being emotionally depleted. While I cannot understand why my son is rejecting the life and the people that he had previously chosen to care about, I also cannot understand the pain of the twelve years he lived before I ever knew him. What I do understand is that I know my son is aware of the love that God has for him. He has been immersed in that love for the last twenty years of his life, and it cannot be without effect.

I also see my husband, who suffers daily with pain and exhaustion. I see the shadow of disease hanging over his life, limiting his relationships, challenging every celebration, coloring every experience with its unavoidable presence. I hear his tired voice as he pushes through each day, never questioning why, just dealing with what's in front of him and inside of him as it comes. I feel his frustration as we figure out our limited finances and as we plan our family schedule trying to predict his stamina. I feel his arms around me as he gingerly holds me - tight enough to comfort me, loose enough to avoid more pain in his body. I respect him for his refusal to feel sorry for himself and his refusal to allow others to offer him pity. I am not so strong as he is, though, and I sometimes cry over the shadow that his sickness casts over the life we once lived as I mourn what we've lost. Matthew 5:4 in The Message Bible says, "You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you." Maybe that's why my husband can accept his situation without question. Maybe his acceptance of what is gone opens him up to the comfort God has for him. Maybe the peace he now has within himself is something he would have never experienced with the intense focus he used to have on things in his life which brought only temporary satisfaction. Maybe he does mourn what is lost, but the comfort of God fills him with gratitude for the blessing he has in his family and in his faith.

I see another of my sons, who teeters on the edge of darkness and light. I see the shadows pulling at him, as they also do me. I see him struggle with the hopelessness of the dark things of the world that stand out so starkly against the light which he knows holds God. I listen to him reason through his own emotions. I watch him fight with his own impulses. I feel his pain and his confusion as he wades through the muck of adolescence and of this world that sucks at his feet and tries to pull him down. I deliberate over parenting decisions and finding balance between guidance and trust. I ruminate over the past and wonder if I protected him enough or if I protected him too much. I love him fiercely, but I know that my love alone is not enough to keep him from being overcome by the dark. Matthew 5:5 in The Message Bible says, "You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.” I know that my son battles with his emotions. I know that it's scary to be vulnerable and transparent and to let people really know who you are inside. I know this because I often face the same battle and fear. I want to hide away and deny my fears and protect myself from the judgement and knowledge of people around me. But I also know that letting people know me is what God created me for. I know that he wants us to encourage each other and to grow together and to never feel alone. And I also know that when someone rejects who I am, that it does not change my value, no matter how much it hurts. When I watch my son struggle, I sometimes feel helpless, but never hopeless. I know that he belongs to God and that nothing can ever overcome that.

So... this again is the paradox of blessing. I know that my need for God is greatest when my circumstances are too big for me. I know that it means I am blessed by the difficulties I face because they push me down and cause me to be dependent on God to lift me up. I know that dependency means God's presence in my life has the opportunity to be big and strong. I know that strong presence is a light that is bright. However, I have also experienced that the brightness makes the contrast of the dark things even more prominent. This is where I struggle to stay in the light, rather than step back into the gray of the shadows. Choosing to see suffering and choosing to be seen in my own suffering is very difficult. The grayness of depression allows me to avoid dealing with an emotional intensity that is painful and revealing. Yet, I realize that God has called the grayness a worthless place to remain. He does not want me to be hidden. He desires me to bring his flavor to the situations I am faced with in my life. He desires me to shine his light out into the darkness that surrounds me. It's up to me to decide now, whether to stay hidden in the grayness or to walk towards hope and leave the shadows behind.

“You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it salty again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:13‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

"It is not the emotionally endowed that God blesses, but the poor in spirit. It is not the buoyant and boisterous he comforts, but those who mourn. Not the prideful, but the meek." -David Mathis

“God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the whole earth.” -Matthew‬ ‭5:3-5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

"Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us." - Samuel Smiles

Climbing Towards Hope

I was 13 yrs old almost 14 on November 2, 1984. I was an 8th grader in middle school living with my mom and dad and brothers in Illinois, and my biggest decision was if my best friend and I should sleep over at her house or mine on Friday night. My future husband was a sophmore in high school, 14 almost 15 years old. He lived thirty minutes away from me, just down the road from Six Flags Great America, with his mom and little sister. 

We didn't even know each other then.

We barely even knew ourselves. 

Yet, one thousand miles away in Colorado, a baby was born on that day who would one day call us (us!) Mom and Dad. 

Fast-forward twelve years to 1997 and the scene shows my husband and I with our own 4 month old baby Cody, living in Wisconsin. A social worker knocks on our door and after spending five minutes in our living room, she drops off two skinny, mop-headed boys ages 8 and 12, and that is the day we all became family. As a newly married couple of less than two years, ourselves in our mid twenties, with all of four months of parenting experience consisting of changing poopy diapers and rocking a crying baby to sleep, we probably were the farthest from ideal parents that anyone could imagine for these boys. For the almost teenager with autism, Tourette's syndrome, and the beginning whispers of schizophrenia especially - we would not be anyone's first pick. However, at the time, we were the only option available within two counties. No matter - this child had already survived twelve and a half years of storms without an umbrella, and he was not about to drown in the mud puddle of trial and error that we had to offer him. 

I am aware that we were not prepared by the world's standards of what "qualifies" a person to make a difference in the life of a child living with the challenges of disability and a traumatic past. We had no special training and not a whole lot of support from so-called experts... but we did have a home, some extra beds, and a carboard box in the closet full of matchbox cars and a plastic alligator that would appear as treasure to two little boys with no other place to go. 

Nineteen years later, I am constantly looking back and cringing at the hundreds of mistakes we probably made in trying to raise this boy along with his brother, but I know in my heart that we got at least one thing right. We listened to God when He said that we were to show our love for Him by taking care of anyone who had no one. Still, I believe the important part of any story is not what people do or who they are, but what God does and who He is. What we had to offer this child was so inadequate - the times that we failed him and still do are numerous. But God takes anything we are willing to give to Him and uses it for His purpose according to His plan. I look at our story and and I see it is about some very imperfect, uncertain, unremarkable people - and I also see that it is about an amazing God who is so powerful, so compassionate, so capable that He can use our brokeness to accomplish His task exactly as He intended. God knew that baby born in Colorado 32 years ago would eventually become our son. 

When our son reached adulthood, my brother became our son’s guardian and successfully took on the responsibility to mentor him over the last 14 years into becoming a man... a man who serves God and who serves his community and never knows a stranger. At the same time, however, our son is also a man who struggles with his intellectual limitations and with the ominous shadows of mental illness. He, like all of us, lives in the constant tension of who he is, who he wants to be, and the challenges of the obstacles in-between. The past few years have been difficult for him, as his emotional memory and his psychiatric symptoms battle to reconcile with his present life and sense of well-being. It is a painful struggle. 

I have been thinking about my son for hours today, his birth day. My heart is broken because he is spending this day that should be a celebration of his life in the psychiatric unit of an acute care center. I have been crying angry tears because life's circumstances are so unfair and many times cruel. For the millionth time I feel completely helpless in facing the darkness of the terrible things in this world over which we truly have no control. 

However, in the midst of the battle with my feelings, I choose to remember that God is a good and perfect Father. I choose to focus on the promise that He has a plan and a purpose for everyone's life - everyone's. And I choose to believe the truth that even when life's journey takes us down inconceivable paths of hardship and suffering, if we look to God to lead us through, we will get to the magnificent destination where He knows we belong.

So, in my brokenness I am praying to God, and looking for Him wholeheartedly to be at work in this mess. I am determined to be grateful for the many good things in the life of my son, and to continue to be hopeful for an even better future. 

It's very easy to feel the face of God shining on us in the good times. I am thankful for those mountain tops we find where we experience complete joy and satisfaction. However, I'm aware that it is in the difficult climb that I grasp for His hand and ask Him to hold me up in my weariness, and to trade my heavy burden for His lighter one. It is in the hard places that I have truly come to know God, and to find rest for my restless soul. That knowledge is treasure, and so, on his birthday today, I pray that my son will find rest for his, also.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.” Jeremiah 29:11-13 NLT

“Then Jesus said, 'Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.'"

Matthew 11:28-30 NLT

“Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help.”

Isaiah 58:7 NLT

“Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”

Ecclesiastes 3:11 NLT

The Blessing of Burden

On Christmas Eve, our church usually holds two service times. This year our family chose to go to the later session, a bilingual service where the Spanish speaking and English speaking congregations of our church (which typically meet separately) came together to celebrate Christmas with traditional carols (switching between languages at each verse), relevant scripture and sharing of personal experiences (translated into both languages), and a concluding prayer time accompanied by a candle lighting ceremony involving each person present. One of my favorite Christmas hymns, Oh Holy Night, was among the carols that had been chosen for this service. It's a magnificently powerful song describing the wonder of the moment that Jesus Christ was born into this dark, oppressive world. To me, the most significant lines are the ones that describe the awe and the hope that Jesus brings to us - an awe that brings us to our knees and a hope that is possible to recognize and hang onto, even when complete weariness and impending doom seem to be upon us:

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees, O hear the angel's voices

O night divine, O night when Christ was born 

(Oh Holy Night, lyrics by: Placide Clappeau)

Another part of the service that stood out to me happened very unobtrusively during the children's sermon time. As I listened to the story being read, I noticed one of the Hispanic ministers, Pastor Loles, resting on a chair towards the back of the stage. I watched her rub her hand wearily over her round belly, stretched with the miracle of her first child living within her. A faint smile was on her face, her cheeks rosy with the heat of the stage lights. I observed her deliberately take some extra-deep breaths, and suddenly my own chest felt taut with the memories of a growing baby nestled under my ribs, competing with my lungs for room to move. As always happens at Christmas time when I regard a heavily pregnant mother, my mind wandered to thoughts of Mary carrying the precious life of the Baby Jesus within her that very first Christmas night. Without fail, my thoughts of Mary are consistently intermingled with both compassion and wonder. What an immense burden for her to be carrying in such extremely difficult circumstances... but at the same time, what a privilege she was blessed with to be sharing her own life with the life of God himself! On this Christmas Eve night the thought in my mind was this - Mary's burden was also her blessing.

MARY'S BURDEN WAS ALSO HER BLESSING!

A burden by definition is a heavy load, or something which causes hardship or distress. It's connotation is a negative one, rather than a desirable one. 

How many times in my life have I wanted to refuse a burden held out to me? How many times have I railed at God for putting an unasked for burden upon me? How many times have I felt as if I could not take one more step forward because the heaviness of a burden is more weight on my shoulders than it seems I can possibly bear? 

This past year and a half, I have struggled with the burden of depression. It is unlike any other burden I have ever encountered. It is one I have seen others carry, and one that I had told myself I never wanted to experience. I wasn't prepared for how it would slowly creep up on me... how one day I would look around and find that everything in my life seemed to shrouded by it. 

Familylife.com describes living with depression as this. "Your world is dark, heavy, and painful... depression seems to go to your very soul, affecting everything in its path." The website also states that the burden of depression affects 25% of the population. It's amazing to think that a burden that deceives me into feeling completely alone is the same burden that is experienced by over a billion other people in the world. 

For me, the perplexing thing in my struggle has been that at some point early on, I began to recognize the veil that covered me for what it was - depression. I can see it's there. I'm aware of its deception, of its intent to destroy. Yet, I continue to flounder in the presence of it in my life. I have watched in despair as some of my relationships have been strangled by the veil, and somehow I have not been able to reach beyond it to sustain them in a healthy way or, with more than a few people, to sustain them at all. Some people and situations that were once so important in my life have been lost to me, either faded away or ripped away, both experiences very painful and disorienting. Even my environment has been affected by the veil, plunging myself and those close to me into chaos and disorder and conditions that only serve to make the burden heavier, the veil more opaque.

This Christmas Eve as I considered the blessing of the burden carried by Mary, I thought about my burden and the possibility of it having potential to be paradoxically transformed into blessing. Was the terrifying situation which Mary found herself in, in any way comparable to the thorn of depression in my life?

In contrast to a burden, a blessing is a positive label - one defined as God's favor and protection, something prayed for, something for which we are grateful, something that brings well-being, or another person's support. When I think about the smothering presence of depression, it's very difficult to feel that the presence God's favor and protection can rest on me at the same time as a burden that seems so heavy and wearying. But even though my heart feels defeat, my head knows well a Bible scripture that I have read over and over, and at times I find myself holding onto it like a flotation device in the middle of a stormy sea.

“Jesus said, 'Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.'"

Matthew 11:28-30 NLT

Another version of the Bible says, "Learn the unforced rhythms of grace." MSG

I am weary - there is no doubt - and the burden of depression is heavy. Jesus calls to me as I struggle, and because I do know his voice, I recognize it - even through my depressive veil. I know he calls to me with no judgement, no expectation, no "to do" list, no disapproval, no annoyance, no anger, no disappointment, no hidden motives. He calls me with an attitude of grace that I do not deserve, and he desires to honor me with his presence. But even though I know in my head he has already chosen me to be close to him, even though I know in my head that my life has great value to him just as I am - still in my heart I struggle with the weight of the world, and with the opinions and actions of the imperfect people in it. Feelings of rejection and inadequacy in the face of exclusion and judgement are hard to live with and yet, for some reason, they are also hard feelings to give up. Feelings of fear and helplessness relayed by news of incomprehensible violence and unimaginable cruelty are hard to lay down. Feelings of loneliness and disconnection even when I am with those closest to me are hard to look past despite the fact that I know my emotions are not always accurate indicators of the truth.

As I grappled last night once again with the choice of putting down the burdens I have picked up under my own free will, and instead holding to myself the promises that I know are true ( because I know that what God has promised is always true, despite how I feel ), some lyrics from the song Breath of Heaven, also known as simply Mary's Song, came to mind:

"I have travelled many moonless nights


Cold and weary, with a babe inside


And I wonder what I've done


Holy Father, you have come


And chosen me now
 to carry your son

I am waiting in a silent prayer


I am frightened by the load I bear


In a world as cold as stone,


Must I walk this path alone?


Be with me now
, Be with me now

Breath of heaven


Hold me together


Be forever near me


Breath of heaven




Breath of heaven


Lighten my darkness


Pour over me your holiness


For you are holy"

(Breath Of Heaven, lyrics by: Amy Grant)

Like this song portrays, I think that Mary was probably filled with feelings of doubt concerning her situation, with fear and dismay over her circumstances, with loneliness in the face of others judging and rejecting her... but I also think that Mary's faith in God and what he had promised was stronger than her desperation. The author of the song's lyrics explains, "It is a prayer that fits a lot of people's circumstances, because it is a cry for mercy." 

I am laying here now, on this early Christmas morning, glancing out the window at the grayness of the December sky. I cry for God to have mercy for me in my circumstances, to hold me together during the many times today that I'm sure to feel like falling apart for a number of reasons or for not any reason at all. And as my heart reaches out to my Savior, my head recognizes the blessing in the burden I'm carrying. The blessing comes with bringing the burden to Jesus, in exchanging it in his presence for the simplicity of being loved by him, in looking away from despair towards hope, and in the faithful expectation of waiting for the day when the veil of depression is torn forever. 

"Breath of heaven

Lighten my darkness

Pour over me your holiness

For you are holy"

"The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine....For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Isaiah 9:2-6 NLT

The Light Side of Dark

"THERE ARE STORIES ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED... IT'S TRUE. ALL OF IT. THE DARK SIDE, THE JEDI. THEY'RE REAL." 

My husband, my son, and I had a dinner and movie date last night, and we went to see the new episode of StarWars. It was so great seeing some of the old characters and storylines blend into new exciting ones, and others conclude as lives reaped what had been sown. As I watched the story on the screen whose beginning first thrilled me when I was the age of 6 years old, the story which continued to unfold across my lifetime to where my present age is 45 years old, I couldn't help but consider the allegorical connection. I thought about how we don't know at the beginning of our life stories where the adventures will lead - what conflicts might come, what relationships will develop, what trials will be faced, what lessons learned. Maybe if we did, we would choose to skip the hard parts, the scary parts, the parts and the people that bring difficulty and distress. However, we need to realize that it's by experiencing the conflict - facing each challenge, living through pain and fear and anger and sadness, gleaning the good stuff and leaving behind the bad - that we are able to find the blessings of satisfaction, of gratitude, of contentment, of joy. It's by choosing to live through every moment written for us that we get to the ending that was meant for us. 

IT'S BY CHOOSING TO LIVE THROUGH EVERY MOMENT WRITTEN FOR US THAT WE GET TO THE ENDING THAT WAS MEANT FOR US.

Last night, as I sat in the theater next to my husband and my grown son watching the continuation of a life spanning saga unfold on the movie screen, I thought of the numerous challenges I've encountered both in marriage and in parenthood. As difficult as many of those experiences have been, I know without hesitation that I would purposefully choose to relive each arduous moment because I believe it is only with the toil that an appreciation for the preciousness of contented moments grows, such as the gratitude and joy I feel in just spending time with my family. 

As the movie ended with the scene of the scarred hero contemplating the light saber marked with his life experiences held out by the hope filled young heroine, my StarWars-inspired reflection ended with these conclusions: 

1) The prize of a valuable relationship is worth the difficult responsibility required in striving for that connection to live and to flourish. 

2) No matter how dark the circumstances around us seem to be, there is there is nothing so dark that it cannot be overcome by light. Like the Apostle John wrote in chapter 1 of his book, "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.” 

Oh, and StarWars: Episode VII? Definitely four stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Breathe Peace

Here at our house, our family's Christmas tree is not yet decorated, even the strings of lights are lying in a jumble under the bare tree branches. No Christmas cookies have been baked so far, although there are crumbs on the counter from ones that Grandma brought a few days ago. Our house is not prepared inside for Christmas - but that's okay, because we are learning that the Advent season is more about preparing the inside of our hearts. This month, my family and I and our stubborn hearts, are being given many opportunities to learn patience for doing things as we can and for letting go, in peace, of what we can't. We are learning to appreciate time together, even when things are not going right,(which is much of the time... so obviously, we must need a lot of practice!)

Today, we were running late for church as usual - some of us too focused on being ready for the Children's Christmas Program to notice the minutes flying by, all of us not morning people and thinking more about our pillows than our clocks. After three attempts at hollering down the stairs, my tone carried enough urgency to motivate my drowsy troupe into waiting in the car. I returned to the bathroom mirror alone and awkwardly twisted my arm behind my back in an attempt to finish zipping my dress with a reach just shy of effective. Finally, I paused with frustration at my struggling reflection, looked into the mirror, and breathed deliberately. I reminded myself (as I often do) to quiet my heart and allow calm in, to open myself to peace. After all, the unchangeable truth is that God is still God, even if we're late for church! 

A short time later (feeling encouraged by my one last determined and successful effort to conquer the elusive dress zipper), I pulled our vehicle into the church parking lot. We surreptiously slipped in a side door of the building to avoid friendly greeters at the front who might absorb minutes of smiles and small-talk that we did not have available to invest at the moment. (But usually, we are glad to feel very welcomed by the greeters!) Releasing a sigh with my dwindling tension, I nudged my own kids and a few other stragglers to find their groups that would be lining up for their performance entry soon. Then I deftly navigated a path to a familiar seat as the church service unfolded. With a spirit of expectation, I settled in, all the while reflecting on the many past years of enjoying my kids' Christmas performances.

What I was thinking about in particular, as I waited, was how the holiday children's pageants at church are truly about the reality of what Christmas means. We moms and dads watch with wonder and bated breath, straining our necks to glimpse our kids celebrating the gift of the Baby Jesus. Older church attendees chuckle affectionately at the crooked halos, beam at our little ones' earnest efforts to sing out the joyful notes, lean forward as Mary and Joseph debate in nervous whispers whether it is time yet to hold up the well-loved doll representing the newborn King. Sometimes, a few tears are shed as a nervous child's heart longs for the comfort of her father's arms over the spotlight of overwhelming attention amid the crowd on the stage. Sometimes, the tears are those of the audience as each observer shares a common joy in the faith of a child displayed. All of the bits and pieces of the moments we observe are highly treasured and pondered on altars of love.


Christmas pageants remind us that as a baby, Jesus was born into an imperfect world. He was a precious gift given with unconditional love by our Father in heaven to us, His children on earth. He was the gift of a Savior from our Father God, who gazes affectionately at us as we fumble about, experiencing life and the organized chaos surrounding us... who smiles with pleasure whenever we choose to graciously bring our joy to Him and recognize the good things He daily blesses us with... whose heart aches with ours when we struggle with pain or shed tears over the exacting circumstances that happen in separation from Him... who fills us with peace over the miracle of it all, when we realize that all of this imperfection only makes the beauty of our story shine that much more brightly.

God fills us with peace over the miracle of it all, when we realize that all of this imperfection only makes the beauty of our story shine that much more brightly. 

Later on at home, my heart is soothed by the peace and the joy that God pours over me when I contemplate the gifts He has for me even just in these evening moments  - the sounds of my family teasing each other as we finally come together and hang the colorful, vintage sized Christmas lights on the tree... the happy reminiscing that occurs while old ornaments are mingled among a few new and distributed with affection among heavy laden tree branches...the quietness that comes upon me as I breathe in and breathe out again, watching those I love most in the world illustrate in their actions the same gladness that I feel playing on my own lips...  breathing in the peace that is present.

When the little ones are asleep, my thoughts return one more time to our church service that morning - to the compelling message that our knowledgeable senior pastor shared with us after the pageant. He expressed that the peace of Christmas which we experience today manifests as a peace within ourselves. We come by it when we invite God to place His peace within us, even when there is not peace around us. God's peace for today, is an inner rest, a freedom from anxiety, from worry and despair. This peace is a gift that is available from God for each of us, and all that we have to do to receive it is to trust in Him. I know that for myself, I find that the more difficult my life gets, the more I need to deliberately focus my trust on what God has promised me. Author A.W.Tozer wrote,  "To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love." I can understand Tozer's curious premise as I, too, have discovered that the more I focus on trusting God, the more peace I receive. The more peace I receive, the more I focus on trusting God. He has blessed me with the present of His presence in my present - with the gift of His peace in my life on this day.

Later still, as I lay in my own bed, I consider the additional gifts God has given to me lovingly wrapped within the walls of my church - the friendships, the lessons, the support, the joy, the security, the encouragement, the prayers... I think about how these gifts, as God has meant them,  are living and growing and powerful gifts, colored with the potential and the intention to spill out of the wrappings, beyond the church building, into my life and community, and even into the world!

I am praying that each one of you reading these words will open your heart to receive God's gift of peace during this Christmas season, and that you will continue to seek Him in all of life's seasons that follow. 

"You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!
(Isaiah 26:3 NLT) 

May God give you more and more grace and peace as you grow in your knowledge of God and Jesus our Lord. 

(2 Peter 1:2) 

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

(Isaiah 9:6 NLT) 

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” 
(John 16:33 NLT) 

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. 

(John 14:1 NLT) 

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. 

(Romans 15:13 NLT) 

And just as they were telling about it, Jesus himself was suddenly standing there among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. 

(Luke 24:36 NLT) 

Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. 

(Philippians 4:7 NLT) 

And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts

(Colossians 3:15 NLT) 

So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. 

(Romans 8:6 NLT)

Beauty in the Broken

A broken tree does not heal. It's true - a tree does not replace wounded or broken fibers with new wood. Instead, the tree permits the broken part to die and the tree moves on, growing around the wound. The tree allows its wound to simply scar over and exist, like a flaw that is present but no longer acknowledged as actively significant.1

"All this pain

I wonder if I’ll ever find my way

I wonder if my life could really change at all.

All this earth

Could all that is lost ever be found

Could a garden come up from this ground at all"2

One year ago yesterday, my husband was undergoing brain surgery. I can look back in my heart and remember I was afraid. I can look back in my mind and remember I was hopeful. Most importantly, I can look at today and know that even though the road from that experience has been difficult, has been dark, has been depressing - I can look at today and know that today is the one that matters.

Once a tree is injured, the wound will eventually become encased in a "knot", and new growth will simply begin on the perimeter of the wound where the healthy tree tissue is situated. Wounded trees can be freely observed most anywhere here in Northern Wisconsin.1 The "knot" of the wound is just a part of the tree. A tree steadily continues growing around its wound and moves on from it over a period of time.

A tree steadily continues growing 

around its wound and moves on from it over a period of time.

I look at my husband today, and I can see the faint scar that has formed over the four inch surgical incision that was made on the day of his brain surgery a year ago. I know that underneath, the physical malformation is still present. I know that a highly skilled and trustworthy surgeon applied a patch to passively prevent the anatomical defect from causing further damage as life goes on.

The knot in the tree is not a healed wound. It is a flaw, an imperfection, a part of the tree which essentially is not active - a scar. Yet, if the tree was able to recover properly with good support, whether natural or facilitated by a human, the existence of the knot will not cause more harm to the tree.1 

Sometimes wounds occur accidentally to a tree, but there are also times when a tree is cut intentionally, or pruned. The pruning is done for the purpose of health or for artistry. According to the Washington State University Extension, pruning of fruit trees is important to establish a firm structure, and to provide light channels throughout the tree so that the tree's fruit can mature well. It is important that a knowledgeable arborist does the pruning because improper cuts are potentially life-ending to a tree, while the correct ones will ensure the best access to sunlight so that an optimum harvest of fruit will result.3

The pruning is done for a purpose.

I see my husband in my memory of that day a year ago, in the hospital neurosurgery ICU - struggling to sit up, struggling to keep the world from spinning, struggling to tolerate the piercing invasive pain that had been inflicted with his own permission. What I remember most clearly, though, is the hope. The hope that sparked through the struggle, as we recognized a return of different physical aspects back to normal that had been suppressed by the compression of his brainstem for quite some time prior to the surgery. The hope that life was about to grow upward once again.

An arborist knows when and how and where to make pruning cuts on limbs, so that the tree has the best potential to close them with its natural defenses, and so that growth can continue beyond the wound, in the direction which the arborist deems best. Sometimes, however, the ensuing direction is unexpected, perhaps because the wound being cared for is not the only wound present1, or sometimes perhaps because the arborist is actually a designer... a visionary who sees the bigger picture... a creator who sees beauty in unusual places.

"You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us"3

God is an arborist - a tree gardener, a planter, a grower, a caretaker. He sows and waters and feeds and prunes. He creates, protects, shapes, and transforms. He invites us to gaze at His majestic work with wonder and praise and quiet awe. His vocation is poetic and authoritative and precise. He creates beauty in paradox, nurturing our souls to grow by finding freedom through the very act of becoming captive to His desires, shaping our spirits to be uplifted higher than we could ever fathom simply by bowing down before Him, renewing our lives and our perspectives even as we allow our selfishness to die in recognition of the perfect authority of His plans.

I see in my mind my husband's view a year ago. A view colored by the beginnings of hope, colored by the perspective that life would be moving on in a sensible and predictable direction, colored by a limited understanding that failed to see that everything will be alright even when it's not all right. And suddenly, I know that what I am seeing in my memory of his outlook is actually a reflection of my own finite vision.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord says: 

I myself will take a shoot from the very top of a cedar and plant it; 

I will break off a tender sprig from its topmost shoots 

and plant it on a high and lofty mountain. 

On the mountain heights of Israel I will plant it; 

it will produce branches and bear fruit and become a splendid cedar. 

Birds of every kind will nest in it; 

they will find shelter in the shade of its branches. 

All the trees of the forest will know that 

I the Lord bring down the tall tree and make the low tree grow tall. 

I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. 

I the Lord have spoken, and I will do it.” 

(Ezekiel 17:22-24 NIV)

I don't know why God chooses to move our lives in directions that seem long and shadowy and wearying. I don't know why this is the place we have journeyed to in pursuit of His plan and His wisdom and His care. It is not a place I have ever envisioned or would have chosen on my own... but I do know that sovereign means God has supreme authority. I do know that His compassion and goodness are never-ending. I do know that nothing in the universe happens that is outside of His influence.

"All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos 

life is being found in You"3

I can look at today and know that this is the day that matters. Our knots may help shape us. Our knots may be a portion of who we have become. They may remind us of what we have been through and may have influence over where we are going. But our knots do not define us. What defines us is decided by the One who defines us... the One who created us... the One who tends to our wounds and covers them with a part of Himself... the One who sees the beauty and the value of our knots and who makes good grow out from all around them. The One who sees the individual tree and also sees its place in the greater forest.

"You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us"3

"But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; 

I trust in God’s unfailing love forever and ever. 

For what you have done 

I will always praise you in the presence of your faithful people. 

And I will hope in your name, for your name is good."

(Psalm 52:8-9 NIV)

I am like a tree fluorishing...

I trust in His love...

His love never fails...

I praise Him for all He has done...

I hope in His name...

for His name is GOOD.

1 Stringer, Larry A., and Jim R. LaBerge. "We Know Trees." How Do Trees Heal?Golden Rule Tree Service, 2012. Web. 04 Sept. 2014.

2 Gary, Moulton, and King Jacky. "Pruning Tree Fruit – The Basics." Pruning Tree Fruit. WSU Mount Vernon Research & Extension Unit, n.d. Web. 04 Sept. 2014.

3 Gungor. Beautiful Things. Brash Music, 2010. MP3.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OR7VOKQ0xJY

Walking In The Light ( Part 1 )

When you hear the word pathology, it makes you cringe. As a nurse who can think and rethink about every possible scenario connected with that word, the implications to my understanding are even more daunting. The word pathology itself comes from the Greek word "pathos" which literally means "suffering". So, when my daughter's ENT surgeon came to me post-op and gently informed me that her right tonsil was being sent to pathology because it had irregular anatomy, of course the word CANCER drowned out all other thoughts from my mind. I felt as though the wind were knocked out of me as I sat down. Even the vinyl hospital room chair let out a sigh. My breath was shallow as I texted the info to a few friends who could pray for us without being overwhelmed by thoughts of possibilities of the outcome. (As a chronic peace-keeper, I often have a hard time sharing news with someone if it will cause that person pain.) I, too, began to pray and to do what I have come to learn is the only response necessary in every situation - to listen for God's direction. I turned back to the chapters that had been in my YouVersion Bible reading plan for that day, and John 8:12 spoke into my heart;

"Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, 

'I am the light of the world. 

If you follow me, you won't have to walk in darkness, 

because you will have the light that leads to life."

The day before the tonsillectomy, I was anxious. While my mind trusted that my sweet girl was in God's care, my emotions were fighting with the recent experience of my husband's brain surgery. Emotional memories are haunting. They are deceptive and misleading, teasing as they beckon you to follow them down a path that goes nowhere near the reality of the immediate situation. This was not the first time that my past has tried to mess with my present. I knew that a good response was to acknowledge my escalating emotions to a couple of trusted friends, each whom wisely gave me direction to look to God for peace and to put away worry. I talked to God about my anxiety and fear as I looked back in my Bible where I had highlighted the words of Jesus earlier that day in John 7:24;

"Look beneath the surface so that you can judge correctly." 

I felt like God was confirming that this emotion was a response to past fears, to situations already conquered and moved beyond. I was soothed by gratefulness as I remembered all that God had carried our family through this year, and I was able to trust that God was still there with us in this situation as well.

So, as I sat in my daughter's hospital room waiting for her return from post-op, contemplating what the pathology results of her tissue study might reveal, peace came over me as I began to focus on the words of my Comforter; 

"If you follow me you won't have to walk in darkness,

 because you will have a light that leads to life." 

When the nurse wheeled my sleeping girl into the room, I gazed at her face and that sense of peace continued to flow over me.  It was not a sense of knowing that the report would come back with good news, but rather a sense that whatever the results, God was carrying her through this, and His plan for her could be nothing short of loving and perfect in His purpose for her life. It was a sense of knowing that walking in his light was the best life I could ever hope for her to live. In that moment, I once again released my anxiety and placed my treasured daughter in the arms of God.

"Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything. 

Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 

Then you will experience God's peace, 
which exceeds anything we can understand. 

His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."

Philippians 4:6-7 NLT

( to be continued in Part 2: http://ofwildernessandrockyplaces.blogspot.com/2014/08/walking-in-light-part-2.html...)