The In-Between: It's Okay to Not Always Be Okay

            Sometimes it’s okay to not be okay.  Through the Covid-19 pandemic, I’ve seen others go through the same cycle I have gone through countless times during our infertility journey.  It starts with a trigger from the circumstance that drags up an uncomfortable emotion – often sadness, doubt, fear, or anger in varying degrees.  We don’t like to sit too long with any of these (whether they are coming from within or radiating from someone else), so we often try to fix them or eliminate them as quickly as possible.  If that doesn’t work, then we bury them deep down under layers and masks of self-deluded okay-ness and try to deny that they are even there.  Next, we feel guilty or ashamed (and those of us who follow Jesus also tend to think we must be really bad Christians) for feeling this way at all.  Finally, we either give way to despair or muster up all the manufactured faith, love, joy, and peace we can to try and make everything all better.  But we wake up the next morning, and it’s still not all better.

            The freeing truth is that there is a reason why we feel so unsettled when things aren’t the way we know they should be.  I first wrote about Lysa Terkeurst’s book It’s Not Supposed to Be This Way and her teaching through the “two gardens” in my post titled “Giver of Good Gifts,” and it is a message that has stuck with me over the past several months.  We are living in a sin-mangled space between the perfect Garden of Eden that is imprinted on our hearts and the hope of the new heaven and new earth that are to come.  A heart that is soft toward God is still bothered when things aren’t as they should be because it is aware that there is something far better!  Knowing this frees us up to let ourselves feel and name negative emotions and to find healing as we allow God to guide us through the various stages of grief over the devastating effects of sin.  He doesn’t want us to brush past our feelings or cover up the state of our hearts with forced or feigned joy and peace.  His Spirit will produce those things genuinely (and repeatedly as needed) as we walk with Him in transparent and surrendered dependence, even and especially when we don’t understand and don’t know how to deal with what’s going on in our circumstances.          

            One of the most debated questions in regard to our circumstances is why God allows bad things to happen in the first place, particularly to those who love Him and have believed in His Son.  We get that sin has consequences, and we can accept that fact more easily when we see a direct correlation between our own sin and our own consequence.  However, we really have a hard time stomaching horrible circumstances when we don’t have a specific personal sin (or the sin of another) to blame.  There are many reasons why God allows suffering and sorrow into our lives (see “When Life Isn't Fair” for a more extensive list), but the one that God brought to my attention recently was through another book – Adopted for Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families & Churches by Russell D. Moore. 

In Chapter 2, Moore describes the adoption of his two boys from a Russian orphanage.  One of the chilling scenes he depicts is that of a nursery full of silent babies who no longer cried because they knew no one would come to meet their needs.  When he was finally able to take the boys home out of that terrible environment, the transition to a safe home proved to be unexpectedly difficult.  As wretched as the orphanage was, it was all that the boys had known in their short little lives.  Not comprehending the loving home that awaited them, they reached back in fear and confusion for the orphanage.  Later, Moore draws from those experiences to explain some truths about our own spiritual adoption: “But we get too comfortable with this orphanage universe.  We sit in our pews, or behind our pulpits, knowing that our children watch ‘Christian’ cartoons instead of slash films.  We vote for the right candidates and know all the right ‘worldview’ talking points.  And we’re content with the world we know, just adjusted a little for our identity as Christians.  That’s precisely why so many of us are so atrophied in our prayers, why our prayers rarely reach the level of ‘groanings too deep for words’ (Rom. 8:26).  We are too numbed to be as frustrated as the Spirit is with the way things are.”

While there is so much more I could share and discuss from that chapter, the main thing that impressed on my heart was that sometimes I need to suffer in order to remember where my true home is.  Sometimes I need to hurt in order to stop clinging to the things of this world so tightly and to long for my glorious eternal home with my loving Father.  I don’t want to live a comfortable and pain-free life that makes me content with this pit of sin and numb to its atrocities.  That is not to say that I should seek out pain and suffering, but that I can learn to endure it and even give thanks as it comes because it reminds me that this is not my forever home.   I have a good Father who is going to finalize my adoption and take me home one day. 

Until then, I need to allow the discord between what I know and what I see to drive me into His loving and understanding arms. He reminds me that there is coming a day when there will be no conflict between the two. He releases me to let the tears fall with the reassurance that He cries with me – even though we both know how the story ends. I need His Spirit to continually strengthen me and to teach me how to trust Him and navigate through this time between the two gardens. It may feel like it will never end, but His Word promises that this life is only a breath compared to what is to come – and then everything will finally, forever, and truly be more than okay.       

Passages to Read

Revelation 21:1-7

Isaiah 65:17-25

Romans 8:15-25

I did a new thing….

As all of these thoughts were rolling around in my head over the past couple weeks, a short conversation with a friend was born out of them.  That conversation sparked the first verse for a song.  Now, I’ve tried writing original songs before, but I have never been successful at getting more than a snippet here or there – a verse, an instrumental motif, etc.  This one came so easily.  Don’t get me wrong – it was still work, but I never felt stuck like I have at other times.  Sharing any type of personal art is a vulnerable thing, but I hope that what I wrote will encourage some of you as you walk through uncertainty and sorrow and draw your hearts near to the tender compassion and the firm, but gentle leading of God.     

The In-Between

Rev. 21

Verse 1

God, I know you’re here

God, I know you’re enough for me

So why this ache

That says this isn’t how it’s s’posed to be 

Pre-Chorus

In a world I wish were black and white 

All I can see is this hazy gray

Help me once again to see the day

Chorus

When all my tears will be dried up

And my sorrows fade from memory 

I’ll dance and sing, wrapped in your love,

In the light of your majesty

When the pain of this life is no more

And death’s death is our victory

All will be right, and new, and bright 

We’ll be with You for eternity

Help me trust through the in-between 

Verse 2

Lord, I know what’s true 

I know what you’ve done for me

Still I wrestle with

What I know and what I see  

Verse 3

And I know You’re good

That You command the wind and sea

Please take this fear

And clear away my heart’s debris 

Pre-Chorus

Chorus

Bridge

The discord of disappointment 

Wages war against my soul 

Yet, the fact I know that something’s wrong

Tells me this world is not my home

Chorus 2

Where all my tears will be dried up

And my sorrows fade from memory 

I’ll dance and sing, wrapped in your love,

In the light of your majesty 

When the pain of this life is no more

And death’s death is our victory

All will be right, and new, and bright

We’ll be with You for eternity

Help me trust through the in-between 

Let this home etched in my heart come quickly

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Fighting Fear

          

        The past couple of weeks have felt like a nearly constant battle with fear.  Between the frequent blood draws, the arrival of the medical billing estimate, and the information I’ve been reading about potential treatments, I’ve been overwhelmed at times.  I know in my head that God has got this all under control and that the end will be worth it (whether or not it results in a pregnancy), but my heart has trouble getting on board sometimes.  Questions keep rolling around in my mind:

Will today’s blood draw be a tolerable one, or one that is going to make me dread coming back again in two days? 

 What if the local lab doesn’t follow the instructions quite right or doesn’t get the completed series shipped off the right way to the lab in Omaha, and I have to do this all over again? 

 How in the world is this going to pan out financially?  What if Samaritan Ministries (our health sharing group) decides that none of my tests or my surgery will be publishable?

 What are the results going to show?  Are they going to make me take progesterone shots at home?  What kinds of havoc will my body and emotions go through if they have to adjust my hormones?  Will I have to have a second surgery?  What if they find something even more serious?      

All of this is out of my control, of course.  There is no point in dwelling on it, but letting go is so hard!  The timing of the Livin’ Out Loud concert was perfect for me.  Two songs that God has been using to quiet my mind were played: Fear is a Liar (performed by Zach Williams) and No Longer Slaves (performed by I Am They).  I wholeheartedly recommend listening to them if you are struggling with fear too. 

We were also privileged to hear the story of Justin Halbgewachs and his family.  He lost his wife to cancer and not long after was diagnosed with brain cancer himself.  He was given nine months to live.  Those nine months have come and gone, along with two brain surgeries.  After one of those surgeries, he woke up and was so thankful simply to know Jesus that he went and sang Amazing Grace with his three children.  You can check out more of the details of his story by visiting his website or by  following his personal Facebook account.  During his messages on Saturday and Sunday, Justin talked about how he had asked God to do whatever it would take to draw him closer to Himself.  Just a couple months later, he was diagnosed with cancer.  I know he has struggled too, but he was so relaxed and at peace in the way he talked.  He did not blame God, he wasn’t angry with God, and he was not bound by fear or grief.  He has learned to value what God values.  His eternal perspective gave him freedom and joy that was completely evident to those of us who saw him. 

The fact that God often uses suffering and difficult circumstances to grow us, develop our character, break down our idols, and draw us to Himself isn’t really easy to accept.  I wish growth could come easily, but the more of life I experience, the more I learn that suffering and pain are part of the package.  It’s not like God can’t relate.  I can say “Jesus died on the cross” without giving that statement hardly a second thought, but the reality of just what took place is something we can hardly comprehend.  If Jesus was not exempt from suffering in this life, why should I be?  We have the promise and hope of glory on the other side.  We know that the God who allows trials is good and trustworthy and that His plan is good, even though it includes hard things.

          If Justin can overcome his fear and face his circumstances of life with joy and worship, so can I.  So can you.  We don’t have to choose fear or listen to the lies.  Even when our circumstances loom heavy on our hearts, we can lift our eyes and reach out for help and hope.  God gives us His strength and everything we need to walk through anything that He asks of us.  He never leaves us, and He promises us that this life is not all there is.