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?
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us
("Beautiful Things," by Gungor)
Beauty.
As I was reading over the posts I've written in the past year, a pattern emerged, like a symphony that begins softly and rises to a thundering crescendo. Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride. There will be beauty from pain. On the road to beautiful, the seasons always change. These songs have meant so much to me, this school year. They have comforted my aching heart and given hope and refreshment to my weary soul. How much more they mean to me, now! God really does make beautiful things out of the chaos and dust of human lives.
Change is painful; often unbearably so. There have been a lot of enormous changes in my life this year--forgiving my father, breaking my engagement, dealing with the death of beloved friend and brother, battling depression, struggling with my calling and with the concept of grace. Consequently, there has been an enormous amount of pain in my life this year. At times, it did seem unbearable. My heart was broken; the pieces scattered. And even now that I've begun to pick up the pieces, it seems so incredibly weak and fragile--riddled with fractures and soft spots. Irrational thoughts and fears linger, and it often seems that my confidence is shattered. However...
"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted, and He saves the crushed in spirit." (Psalm 34:18, ESV)
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:3, ESV)
God has been very tender and gentle with me; He is a loving Father. Under the care of the Great Physician, I have begun to mend. But it will never cease to amaze me, nor will I ever cease to wonder, why God chooses to work through so fragile and fallible a medium as the human life, particularly mine. I ask with the Psalmist:
"What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man, that You care for him?" (Psalm 8:4, ESV)
When I sat down to write today, I was at a loss for words. My mind snatched aimlessly at my swirling thoughts, and as I pondered I begun to hum Gungor's Beautiful Things. And as I mulled the lyrics over, a snatch of scripture flitted across my mind. I sought the passage where the familiar phrase was located, and found this:
"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies." (2 Corinthians 4:7-10, NLT)
I used to believe that understanding the purpose behind one's pain would help it to subside. I now know that pain with a purpose is still pain. However, that does not make the purpose any less glorious. My human life is a fragile clay jar, but I have the indwelling presence of God, and the gospel of Jesus Christ blazes like a beacon in my soul:
For a short time, the Creator of the world took on the frail terra-cotta mantle of humanity, with all the sweat and blood and tears contained therein. He was intimately acquainted with every form of temptation, and He knew the full intensity of both physical and psychological pain. He lived a perfect, sinless life. He then assumed the guilt of all mankind and endured the full wrath of God. The Son endured death--separation from God, His Father, from whom He had never been separate--in order to satisfy that wrath. He did all this, and was gloriously raised and restored to perfect union with the Godhead, in order that mankind might be reconciled to God. Having done all this, He entrusted the task of spreading and sharing this glorious good news... to us. To fragile clay jars. To dust. This is the message God compels me to proclaim with my life.
It is unfathomable; ridiculous--laughable, even. But is also true. And incredibly, achingly beautiful.
God has striven mightily to impress upon me the meaning of beauty. I have seen it in smiles and laughter. I have seen it in bitterness and pain. I have found it solitude, and in relationships. I have found it in growth and in setbacks. And it has surprised me over and over again in myself. Beauty is found in the God-fashioned life.
I have often looked back on this season of my life; now, I look forward to the next. Changes are imminent, and inevitable. I've finished off my sophomore year of college. Beloved friends are scattering across the country--and the globe--for the summer. Some are graduating. Many are getting married. And I am going home, to build up and strengthen my relationship with my family, to reconnect and fellowship with old friends, to build relationships with the lost, and to grow immeasurably in the love and grace of God. I look forward to rest and refreshment; I look forward to the challenges I will face. Most of all, I look forward to the astonishing beauty God is working out in my life, and all around me.
He makes beautiful things.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Walking in the Truth
"How many people should I tell about God and His word?"
"Everyone you know, and everyone you'll ever meet."
"Okay... but how do I do that?"
"Well, you start by building relationships with people."
"How?"
"Do you know how to be a good friend?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, well, it's like that, only it's more than just hanging out. The point is to get to know them, and help them get to know Jesus, and then to help them become more like Him."
"But I don't know where to start."
"Neither do I, bud, but I am learning, and I will help you to learn with me. One thing that we can both do is pray for God to send us someone to be friends with and talk to about Him."
The above conversation is a series of text messages between a seventh-grader and his youth minister. It's one of those once-in-a-lifetime conversations, a question out of the blue, from a kid who really wants to know--Just how many people should I tell about Jesus, and how do I go about it? I was laughing for joy as I read these messages, and wracking my brain for a way to help the minister answer his poignant questions.
Watching and helping a group of middle and high school students learn about the life of Christ has been an extremely powerful and rewarding experience. I have watched them learn that Jesus didn't come to be popular or powerful, that He hung around with people most Christians wouldn't be caught dead with, and that He called ordinary people like you and me to follow Him, and to do even greater things than He did. In other words, these kids have been learning that being a Christian means being like Jesus, and being like Jesus doesn't mean behaving yourself and going to church on Sunday mornings. They're learning that Jesus was completely radical... and they're beginning to want to be just like Him.
I love watching people, especially young people, grow in their knowledge of the truth. Truth changes people, and I can see Jesus--the Way, the Truth, and the Life--working in this young man's heart to change him and transform him into the likeness of Christ. This kid has learned the truth, and now he wants to learn how to walk in it. I want to help teach him, and I hope I get to see the results; I have no greater joy than to see a young person walking in the truth.
God is awesome.
"Everyone you know, and everyone you'll ever meet."
"Okay... but how do I do that?"
"Well, you start by building relationships with people."
"How?"
"Do you know how to be a good friend?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, well, it's like that, only it's more than just hanging out. The point is to get to know them, and help them get to know Jesus, and then to help them become more like Him."
"But I don't know where to start."
"Neither do I, bud, but I am learning, and I will help you to learn with me. One thing that we can both do is pray for God to send us someone to be friends with and talk to about Him."
The above conversation is a series of text messages between a seventh-grader and his youth minister. It's one of those once-in-a-lifetime conversations, a question out of the blue, from a kid who really wants to know--Just how many people should I tell about Jesus, and how do I go about it? I was laughing for joy as I read these messages, and wracking my brain for a way to help the minister answer his poignant questions.
Watching and helping a group of middle and high school students learn about the life of Christ has been an extremely powerful and rewarding experience. I have watched them learn that Jesus didn't come to be popular or powerful, that He hung around with people most Christians wouldn't be caught dead with, and that He called ordinary people like you and me to follow Him, and to do even greater things than He did. In other words, these kids have been learning that being a Christian means being like Jesus, and being like Jesus doesn't mean behaving yourself and going to church on Sunday mornings. They're learning that Jesus was completely radical... and they're beginning to want to be just like Him.
I love watching people, especially young people, grow in their knowledge of the truth. Truth changes people, and I can see Jesus--the Way, the Truth, and the Life--working in this young man's heart to change him and transform him into the likeness of Christ. This kid has learned the truth, and now he wants to learn how to walk in it. I want to help teach him, and I hope I get to see the results; I have no greater joy than to see a young person walking in the truth.
God is awesome.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Beauty From Pain
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
("Hurt," by Nine Inch Nails)
In the past, I have been guilty of writing in an attempt to please or convict my readers. Today, however, I repent of that arrogance; I write this post as a reminder to myself. There are some things which should not be forgotten; some things are too precious to lose. My life is one of those things. Christ raised me from the dead--for I was dead in my transgressions and sins--five and a half years ago. And for five and a half years, Satan and his hit-men have been bent on murdering me.
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:10, ESV)
From August to November of 2010, my life descended into what I can only call the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I was consumed by deep, dark depression. It began as an aching loneliness that would not be dispelled; I felt isolated even in the midst of my closest friends. Accusations from my Enemy flew fast and thick, and I did not even recognize them; I hung my head in shame and believed the Father of Lies. My thoughts were confused; though I knew my depression was irrational, I suffered from the inability to carry a continuous train of thought to its logical conclusion. I began to dread each morning, when I would be required to put on at least the semblance of life and go through the motions of the day. I grew to fear the fleeting moments of happiness I experienced, because I knew that they would not last, and then my despair would be even blacker than before.
I became angry with God; I was doing all that He required of me. Even in the depths of this oppression, I prayed. I studied His word. I served His people. When I prayed, I would plead for deliverance, and there seemed to be no answer. When I read my Bible, to my dismay, I found none of the familiar hope and comfort. Often, I would lay my pen down on my half-finished journal entry, sobs wracking my body, and turn off the lights in my dorm room and wait for sleep to take away my pain for just a little while.
In the darkest, loneliest, most hopeless hours of that season, I turned to a pin, a needle, or even a thumbtack; the sharp pricking of the palms of my hands--that physical pain--somehow numbed the deep anguish of my heart and soul. I was terrified of the "last resort" of self-harm; I hated it. I confessed to a friend immediately, and sought help. I knew that my Enemy was devouring me, and I didn't know how to escape.
One night, I penned a desperate prayer, begging God to rescue me--or at least answer me--as I cried before Him, unable even to form coherent sentences. I resolved to lie quietly in the dark until He did so. I lay in bed for what seemed like hours, tears still streaming down my cheeks, before a snatch of a song began to play in my head. I fixed all of my attention on that thought, clinging to it the way a drowning man would cling to a life preserver:
When the rain's blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I would offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel My love
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel My love
I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
There's no doubt in My mind where you belong
I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel My Love
The storms are raging on a rolling sea
And down the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing like Me yet
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you happy, make your dreams come true
To make you feel My love
("To Make You Feel My Love," by Garth Brooks)
I wept at the words as scenes and images I recalled from The Passion of the Christ flitted across my mind. My Savior was cradling and comforting me; He was speaking tenderly to me--whispering, I love you, I love you, I love you--and soothing my wounded soul. The weight of oppression was immediately lessened by this simple yet profound reminder of the depth and breadth of God's love for me. I realize now that there is no pain without purpose in the life of a believer; though that season of my life was the darkest I have yet experienced, it served as the catalyst for the most intense period of spiritual growth I have yet experienced. God wanted to get at and work on some of the deepest parts of my soul; He turned the oppression that Satan meant for evil and used it to accomplish that great good.
My growth continues, and lessons learned in the Valley of the Shadow of Death are serving their purpose even now. God has been revealing to me, at various times and in various ways--through scripture, through books picked up "by chance", through conversations with friends and strangers--about the unconditional nature of His love and grace, which is so hard for me to accept. God is developing in me a healthy self-image and self-love, and is filling me with a deep passion for my purpose. I am grateful for the fullness of life to which He has called me, and in which I am learning to live in freedom and joy.
After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There will be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there will be beauty from pain
("Beauty From Pain," by Superchick)
"I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free." (Psalm 119:32, NIV)
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
("Hurt," by Nine Inch Nails)
In the past, I have been guilty of writing in an attempt to please or convict my readers. Today, however, I repent of that arrogance; I write this post as a reminder to myself. There are some things which should not be forgotten; some things are too precious to lose. My life is one of those things. Christ raised me from the dead--for I was dead in my transgressions and sins--five and a half years ago. And for five and a half years, Satan and his hit-men have been bent on murdering me.
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:10, ESV)
From August to November of 2010, my life descended into what I can only call the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I was consumed by deep, dark depression. It began as an aching loneliness that would not be dispelled; I felt isolated even in the midst of my closest friends. Accusations from my Enemy flew fast and thick, and I did not even recognize them; I hung my head in shame and believed the Father of Lies. My thoughts were confused; though I knew my depression was irrational, I suffered from the inability to carry a continuous train of thought to its logical conclusion. I began to dread each morning, when I would be required to put on at least the semblance of life and go through the motions of the day. I grew to fear the fleeting moments of happiness I experienced, because I knew that they would not last, and then my despair would be even blacker than before.
I became angry with God; I was doing all that He required of me. Even in the depths of this oppression, I prayed. I studied His word. I served His people. When I prayed, I would plead for deliverance, and there seemed to be no answer. When I read my Bible, to my dismay, I found none of the familiar hope and comfort. Often, I would lay my pen down on my half-finished journal entry, sobs wracking my body, and turn off the lights in my dorm room and wait for sleep to take away my pain for just a little while.
In the darkest, loneliest, most hopeless hours of that season, I turned to a pin, a needle, or even a thumbtack; the sharp pricking of the palms of my hands--that physical pain--somehow numbed the deep anguish of my heart and soul. I was terrified of the "last resort" of self-harm; I hated it. I confessed to a friend immediately, and sought help. I knew that my Enemy was devouring me, and I didn't know how to escape.
One night, I penned a desperate prayer, begging God to rescue me--or at least answer me--as I cried before Him, unable even to form coherent sentences. I resolved to lie quietly in the dark until He did so. I lay in bed for what seemed like hours, tears still streaming down my cheeks, before a snatch of a song began to play in my head. I fixed all of my attention on that thought, clinging to it the way a drowning man would cling to a life preserver:
When the rain's blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I would offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel My love
When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel My love
I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
There's no doubt in My mind where you belong
I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel My Love
The storms are raging on a rolling sea
And down the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing like Me yet
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you happy, make your dreams come true
To make you feel My love
("To Make You Feel My Love," by Garth Brooks)
I wept at the words as scenes and images I recalled from The Passion of the Christ flitted across my mind. My Savior was cradling and comforting me; He was speaking tenderly to me--whispering, I love you, I love you, I love you--and soothing my wounded soul. The weight of oppression was immediately lessened by this simple yet profound reminder of the depth and breadth of God's love for me. I realize now that there is no pain without purpose in the life of a believer; though that season of my life was the darkest I have yet experienced, it served as the catalyst for the most intense period of spiritual growth I have yet experienced. God wanted to get at and work on some of the deepest parts of my soul; He turned the oppression that Satan meant for evil and used it to accomplish that great good.
My growth continues, and lessons learned in the Valley of the Shadow of Death are serving their purpose even now. God has been revealing to me, at various times and in various ways--through scripture, through books picked up "by chance", through conversations with friends and strangers--about the unconditional nature of His love and grace, which is so hard for me to accept. God is developing in me a healthy self-image and self-love, and is filling me with a deep passion for my purpose. I am grateful for the fullness of life to which He has called me, and in which I am learning to live in freedom and joy.
After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There will be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there will be beauty from pain
("Beauty From Pain," by Superchick)
"I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free." (Psalm 119:32, NIV)
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