Abundant Living in an Arid Land

Deserts are largely uninhabited for a reason.  Why live in the dry heat of a barren, inhospitable land when the world is full of breathtaking mountains, lush valleys, and calming seas?  Yet, spiritually, we sometimes choose to remain with our feet planted in the sand, our parched throat drawing in the dusty air, and our skin shriveling up in the relentless rays of the sun.  We may not have arrived in the desert by our own desire (whether as a result of sin or of difficult circumstances outside our control), but that doesn’t mean we are hopelessly trapped there.  So, why do we still act paralyzed? 

For most of the summer, I have been in the book of Numbers.  The wilderness was always part of God’s plan to take Israel into the promised land.  Their journey was never going to be an easy one, but they made it much harder on themselves by the choices they made.  As I read, I tried to choose one or two main ideas from each passage to write down in my journal.  Looking back over my notes, three themes emerged that I think are key to thriving through our spiritual wildernesses and moving on from them.

1.  Don’t Complain

Israel complained repeatedly through their whole wilderness experience.  Their loud discontent did little to benefit them.  Instead, it roused God’s anger and frustrated their leader (Moses) to the point that he wanted God to end his life.  Further, it caused them to forget what God had already done for them, fed their ungratefulness, and led to more heartache and headache than any temporary satisfaction they received.  Similarly, our complaints make us ungrateful for what God has already done, they make us intolerable to those around us, and they blind us from the ways God is working on our behalf.  The Scriptures are also clear that while Jesus did indeed take the punishment for our sin, God still disciplines His children.  He loves us too much to let us grow up to be spoiled brats, and a complaining attitude is not something He allows to go unchecked.  No one leaves their desert on the wheels of complaint without crashing and burning along the way.      

  

2.  Believe

In spite of all the miraculous ways the people of Israel had seen God work in rescuing them out of Egypt, they constantly doubted His character, His promises, and His ways in the wilderness.  God continued to be faithful even when they were faithless, but they tested His boundaries more zealously than a three-year-old.  Their unbelief, coupled with fear, ultimately led to their stay in the wilderness being extended by another forty years.  We get stuck when we don’t believe God, and who knows how often we have delayed or missed out on His blessings because of our stubborn unbelief.       

3.  Obey       

When we stop believing God, disobedience is inevitable.  We were all created to believe in something, and when the rightful object of that belief is displaced, we start pursuing all sorts of other avenues to fill that void.  Israel was constantly wandering away from the one true God by worshipping Him in ways that He did not ask or by worshipping other gods entirely.  Their disobedience resulted in so much destruction, pain, and death.  Our hearts are easily led away from God, even when we have seen the truth of His goodness and His righteousness.  Obedience is a choice we must make in every single moment as we continue to believe God in the face of our driest deserts. 

A common response to reading about the Israelites is baffled self-righteousness.  How could they turn away so many times from the God who set them free?  How could they even dream of being unfaithful to Him?  Of course, we would have made the right choices if we were in their shoes.  But, don’t we make those same choices today?  Our descent into the sins of complaint, disbelief, and disobedience might look different, but it is just as real and baffling, if not more so. 

We have known the love of our Savior in a way that the Israelites were not yet privileged to see.  Israel saw God’s deliverance from Egypt, but we have seen our deliverance from the eternal punishment and present power of sin in our lives through Jesus’s death and resurrection.  The Source of living water resides inside of us (Jn. 7:37-39).  In the bleakest wastelands, we have no reason to wilt because we already have been given everything we need to flourish and thrive.  We need only to choose to listen to Him.  If we stop complaining long enough to turn our eyes away from our own misery and self-pity, believe that God will fulfill His promises on the basis of His good character, and obey Him as His Spirit and Word guide us in the way that He made this world to work, we can be the oases in a cracked, broken world.  Once we realize that He is all we need, we can live abundantly regardless of whether we find ourselves in the desert or the promised land.           

                                  

When the Moon Blocks the Sun

For the past several weeks (in the midst of moving), I've been mulling over Psalm 73.  In it, Asaph (the writer) wrestles with the goodness of God; specifically, he seeks to resolve the tension between what he knows to be true and his seemingly contradictory experiences.  The gist of the Psalm goes something like this: "God I know You are good to Your people, but I've gotten so tripped up by what I've seen.  So many people who do horrible, wicked things and have no regard for You or Your ways have trouble-free lives.  Yet, those who love You and seek to obey You can't catch a break from hardship.  What's up with that, God?  What's the point of doing right if it only leads to more heartache and struggle?"  Then, Asaph turns his eyes from other people to his God, and he sees that in the end, his lot is far better than that of the godless who will be destroyed violently, swiftly, and suddenly.  He admits that in the midst of his pain and jealousy, he was stupid and lacking in understanding.   Yet, God still guided and counseled him gently through all of that.  He concludes the Psalm by reiterating what he declared at the beginning, but this time with more personal conviction: "But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works." 

Less than a week before we moved, I found out my thyroid levels were messed up again, and I had to have my Synthroid dosage increased again.  I went through another round of asking God the same questions Asaph asked and the same questions I know many others in the infertility community have asked:  I know I'm not anywhere near perfect, but why is this so hard for me when so many people who are not at all ready or fit to be parents can conceive a child instantly?  If teenage girls can get pregnant, why can't I see a positive pregnancy test?  If child abusers, drug addicts, and rapists can have children, why are my arms still empty?  If hundreds of thousands of unwanted babies are aborted each year in the U.S., why is the child I so desperately want still nothing more than a dream?  God, do You really have my good in mind if You are withholding what You say is a good gift and reward from me?  Like Asaph, my pain and bitterness clouded my understanding, and before I realized what was happening, I experienced another spiritual eclipse with the moon of my circumstances blocking out the sun of God's presence. 

The same God who guided and counseled Asaph in the midst of his pain-induced ignorance and senselessness guides and counsels me.  I've written so many times before that we have to align our perspective with God's perspective to find peace and understanding in the midst of difficult circumstances.  We have to fix our eyes on eternity instead of this temporary life.  I know this to be true, but I still have to choose it on a moment-by-moment basis.  I have to fix my eyes on Jesus and refuse to look away.  When the darkness falls around me, I have to remember that the Son has not changed or abandoned me.  He is still there, and it is only a short while before I will be able to see His glory clearly all around me again.  

The nearness of God IS my good.  That phrase leapt of the page the first time I read this Psalm, and it has lodged itself in my mind ever since.  I fall into the trap of thinking that "my good" equates to having a perfect marriage, a vibrant ministry, a great house, and children to call my own.  If those things don't fall into place, then how can I say that God is really good to me?  This type of thinking expects God to perform before we will accept Him as He is.  Yet, God accepts us and loves us without any regard for our performance.  Why do we assume that we can impose our own requirements on the God of the universe?

As my husband has taught several times to various groups of youth, God is the scale to measure goodness.  We can't weigh Him against other good things in order to draw comparisons.  He is the scale, the ruler,  the standard, the very definition and essence of goodness.  He just wants us to trust Him.  He is trustworthy because He is good and He does good.  The nearness of God is my good, and it is all I really need. He wants my heart, and He has already given me His.  There is no greater good than being near to God.  It's what we were made for.  All else in this life pales in comparison to knowing Him and walking with Him.

NIAW 2017

            This week is National Infertility Awareness Week.  For those who may have missed my post in which I first shared a little piece of our story, you can check out Part 2 of my series titled “A Life Unexpected" by clicking the following link: ALU(P2).

            I am the one in eight. ········

When we first started trying to get pregnant, I often found myself lost in daydreams.  I spent hours looking up and pairing first and middle names, imagining what our child might look like, crocheting baby afghans (one for a boy and one for a girl), and brainstorming ideas for nursery color schemes and pregnancy announcements.  As I imagined what it would be like to see a positive pregnancy test, to witness my husband's reaction to the news, to experience the process of growing a human being inside my body, and everything else that goes along with bringing a life into this world, I could feel a foreshadow of the emotion that would come with it all.  Have you ever thought of something sour (like a Warhead or a lemon) and felt the sensation of the taste overtake your tongue without actually eating anything?  It was sort of like that.  I entertained my hopeful fantasies without restraint for the first few months, though they were dampened briefly by mild disappointment at each new start of a cycle. 

Then, the disappointment began to grow, and the more I allowed myself to dream, the harder the blow came when I realized we had to wait yet another month.  Gradually, I finished my afghans, I stopped looking at Pinterest ideas, and I put my baby name list away.  Still, there were some months when I got my hopes up because of unusual signs and allowed the dreaming to flicker again.  Once, I randomly got sick in the middle of the night.  Another month, I had horrible acid reflux for the first time ever. There are so many possible early pregnancy symptoms (most of which resemble PMS) that I could almost always find at least one that was true for me in any given month.  Still, I kept finding myself staring through blurry eyes at a little strip with only one line. 

Blood Draw #4

Finally, we decided it was time to see a doctor.  My husband’s test came back normal.  My first tests included blood work to check for thyroid disease and diabetes.  I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and was started on medication.  Again, I felt a new wave of hope.  At least we had some sort of possible answer.  Six long months passed with rapidly waning optimism, and another blood test revealed that my thyroid was still out of whack.  The doctor increased my dosage, and another two months have passed.  Ironically, I have an appointment with my doctor this week to ask a few questions and to talk about what the next steps might be.  All in all, we have been waiting for about twenty-seven months now.      

During the wait, I have found myself jerked around by excitement, hope, anticipation, doubt, discouragement, disappointment, anger, fear, jealousy, confusion, frustration, and numbness.  I've stonewalled, rested in, reasoned with, and pleaded with God.  I've been crushed by certain questions and comments, but I've also been encouraged by loved ones in various ways, both those who understand what we’re going through and those who don't.  Each day is different.  I try to focus on enjoying the life God has given me right now.  I must choose to be thankful that I have the time and freedom to help take care of children who are not my own.  I must choose to enjoy the extra time I have to invest in and enjoy my marriage.  I must choose to trust God and to follow His will for me today.  Still, the longing never entirely leaves my heart.  The dream may be polluted with uncertainty and sorrow, but it is not dead.

            Thank you to all those who are walking this road with us.  Thank you for listening ears, for your generous spirits, and for your genuinely good intentions.  Thanks to those who have been understanding even when you don’t fully understand.  Thanks to those at all different mile markers of this same road who have provided so much support and encouragement.  Thanks to those who have allowed me the privilege of being a part of your children’s lives.  I don’t know what the remainder of our family-building journey looks like, but I am grateful to have such a supportive community of family and friends and for a God who will not abandon me to hopelessness and despair.    

            To close, I wrote a villanelle to more succinctly express what I just shared in recognition of National Infertility Awareness Week:

Reverie of Light

Desire of my heart, tainted reverie of light

For you, I continue to wait 

I must ward off the night

I picture your eyes, your hair, your height 

I hear echoes of laughter, see what beauty you’d create

Desire of my heart, tainted reverie of light

How I ache to hold you tight

My spirit yearns with an ardor so great

I must ward off the night

I’ve pondered your name, if it will be just right

To capture your temper and each quirky trait

Desire of my heart, tainted reverie of light

Your afghans I made lie hidden from sight

Offering no warmth to my fragile state

 I must ward off the night

Oh how my mind must not succumb to this plight

Taunted by apparitions of an uncertain fate

Desire of my heart, tainted reverie of light

Please Lord, ward off the night

A Life Unexpected (Part 2)

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life.”

-Proverbs 13:12

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            Growing up, I always wanted to be primarily a stay-at-home wife and mom.  As I was strongly encouraged by the public school system to look at career paths, the only possibilities that really interested me were being an author or doing something that involved ministry, music, kids, or some combination thereof [Bible college later helped to fine-tune and cement both ministry (in the areas of music, children, and/or youth) and writing as secondary calls in my life].  I thought all of these aspirations, especially marriage and parenthood, would be achieved by the time I was twenty.  I would get married at the age of eighteen and have my first child when I was twenty.  After all, you have to start early if you want to have three to five kids before the age of thirty-five with a little bit of space in between each one!  If not by twenty, then surely I would have it all settled by twenty-two.  Maybe the writing part and the level of ministry involvement could wait until the kids were a little older.

When I had my heart completely shattered at eighteen and then found myself without a boyfriend (much less an engagement or wedding ring) on my twentieth birthday, I started to realize that my plan was definitely not going to pan out.  I ended up getting married at the age of twenty-two (which I now realize is still young, but it was later than what I had wanted), I’ve written only very sporadically for my blog, I’ve already shared where we are with the ministry side of things, and now I find myself still childless at the age of twenty-six (twenty-seven in just a few months).  I’ve wrestled with whether or not to share this very personal part of our story.  My intention in sharing it is not to try to solicit pity but to encourage those who are experiencing the same issue.  If there is anything that has become perfectly clear to me in twenty-three months of deferred hopes, early-morning temperatures, Google searches, negative pregnancy tests, and tortuous two-week-waits which have consistently ended with exceedingly unwelcome “shark weeks” (as my husband has so affectionately dubbed them), it is the fact that we are not the only ones who are going through this.

           

            Before infertility (the scary word that is assigned to anyone who has been 
trying to get pregnant without success for more than a year), I assumed that pregnancy would come easily.  After all, people have unplanned pregnancies all the time.  How difficult could it be?  Now, the more we have opened up about our story, the more we have discovered that it is fairly common to have a hard time getting pregnant.  Really, I am amazed at the sheer number of people who have struggled in the past or who are currently struggling to get pregnant with their first child or even with their second or third.  Beyond just the people we have met personally, there is an entire online community of people with their own language of abbreviations to describe all the many facets of “ttc” (trying to conceive).  To extend the reach even further, infertility isn’t a new problem.  There are women in all generations who have ached in their hearts for a child only to be disappointed month after month after month.  Consider how many women in the Bible were barren for a time: Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, and Elizabeth, just to name some of the well-known ones.

            Hannah’s story (1 Samuel 1-2) has particularly struck a chord with me.  The Bible gives such a vivid account of her anguish over her plight.  Unlike Sarah and Elizabeth, Hannah had not yet reached an age where she had given up any hope of ever being able to bear a child.  Yet, year after year she still had to face the constant disappointment, the social stigmas that were attached to barren women in her time and culture, and the harassment from her husband’s merciless second wife.  At times, it all became too much to bear, and she was overtaken with tears and bitterness of heart to the point where she refused to eat and could barely speak.  Though her husband loved her dearly, he did not fully understand her agony.  Fortunately, Hannah knew someone who did understand her: the only One who had the power to open her womb.  She fervently poured out her heart to Him and made a vow to give the child back to Him if He gave her one.  Her prayer was so passionate that she appeared to the high priest to be drunk.  After accusing and rebuking her, he listened to her explanation and then encouraged her by saying, "Go in peace; and may the God of Israel grant your petition that you have asked of Him" (1 Sam. 1:17).  Hannah left the temple feeling comforted enough that she could eat again.  The Bible does not tell us precisely how long Hannah had to wait, but God did allow her to become pregnant.  She kept her vow and gave her son over to be raised in the temple after he was weaned, but God didn’t stop there.  In His grace, He gave her three more sons and two daughters.

            Thankfully, I don’t have a rival wife or major social stigmas to worry about.  However, I can relate to the roller coaster of being okay on some days and of being completely overtaken with heartache, disappointment, longing, bitterness, and hopelessness on other days.  I am all too familiar with the stabbing, suffocating pain that flares up when well-meaning people ask when we are going to have children, make comments about how we have plenty of time, or advise us that it will probably happen when we stop thinking about it.  I know what it is like to see pregnancy announcements, to see other mothers with their children, and to see countless baby pictures as I scroll through my Facebook feed all while being torn apart between conflicting emotions of genuine happiness for the other mothers, jealousy, guilt for feeling jealous, and deep sorrow.  It’s hard to see stark contrasts like the one in 1 Samuel 1:2, which says, “Peninnah had children, but Hannah had none,” and to refrain from asking, “Why?”

            We aren’t told specifically whether or not Hannah asked that question.  We do know that she took her heartache to her Creator.  Instead of becoming angry with Him or blaming Him, she worshiped Him, opened herself up to Him completely, and allowed Him to comfort her.  While I don’t believe that following her example guarantees us the answer that we want, I do believe that it is the secret to finding sustaining grace and peace.  It is also the path to healing from the heartsickness described in Proverbs 13:12.  Whether or not He ever allows me to become a mother, I know that He cares, He listens, He understands, and He is good.    

Finding Purpose in Life's Pauses

Do you ever feel like someone hit the pause button on your life?  Everything seems to be moving along, meshing together, and making sense when you suddenly find yourself getting launched into the air, and you wonder whether you will hit the ground running or shattered into a million little pieces.  Just a couple of days ago, I was cruising on a highway that I traverse almost daily, and I had to slam on the brakes twice to avoid hitting two pairs of deer within a few miles of each other.  There was a brief moment each time after I had seen the deer and responded accordingly where it was as though I was suspended in time.  In a few seconds, I would either crash into the deer, or I would miss them and gradually resume my speed with my heart still pounding in my chest. I had done what I could, and at that point all that was left was to wait to see the outcome.  Those moments of waiting, of anticipation, and of hanging in the unknown following unexpected circumstances can make us feel like life is stuck dangling over the abyss and that we are powerless to do anything but wait.    

When I've been faced with these "life pauses" (which has been much too frequently for my liking lately), my tendency has been to try to gain more control and to doubt God's love and His plan.  The more I succumb to that tendency, the more I find myself swimming in fear, anger, sadness, frustration, and worry when I could be resting in God's peace, power, promises, and preeminence.  When burden after burden and bad circumstance after bad circumstance start to pile up on my heart and thrust me into seasons of waiting, I have to make a choice.  I can seek my Lord for His guidance, comfort, freedom, and peace, or I can try to fix everything on my own (in which case I really have no business calling Him my Lord).  I've chosen the latter more than I'd like to admit, and I'm always faced with the reality that trying to fix my life on my own is futile.  Not only that, but in the attempt to do so, I grow to hate seasons of waiting and the painful experiences that often bring them about.

Yet, God tells me in His Word that I am to be thankful for trials (painful as they may be) and that I am to wait patiently on Him.  Both are crucial to the development of my character.  He never promised that my transformation would be painless, comfortable, and quick.  I am privileged to be a part of the worship team for Vacation Bible School at my church this week, and one of the songs describes this truth perfectly.  It is titled "Diamonds" by Hawk Nelson.  Check it out using the following link: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yf1ARbpB0gA

As if the lyrics in the song weren't enough, God showed me a vivid illustration of the purpose of life's pauses and pain within the music itself as I was playing with the band.  As the vocalists repeat the words of the bridge, the instrumentalists begin to build in volume, technicality, and intensity.  Finally, after the bridge is repeated three times, the full instrumental sound climaxes with a crash on the symbols (by my studly husband, I might add) before suddenly dropping out completely while the voices alone ring out.  This empty sound lasts only for a couple measures before the band jumps back in with full force and resolve.  The section I just described is my favorite part of the whole song.  There is beauty in the complexity, the unity, and the variation that comes with the sound of the band as a whole, and yet, there is an equal beauty expressed through those few moments where everything is stripped away and the voices alone hang suspended in the air in anticipation of the coming return of the instruments.  Combined, the two techniques make for a powerful, goose-bump worthy effect.  Alone, they wouldn't have nearly the same impact.  Those simple, empty measures may seem boring and unnecessary, but they are anything but that when they are heard in the arrangement of the entire song.  

God drew my attention to the fact that my life pauses are much like those measures.  I may not enjoy them in and of themselves, but when I see my life as a whole from God's perspective, I can see that they serve several important purposes.  I mentioned one of the purposes earlier, which is to transform us and make us more like Him.  Another purpose is to bring us back to a point of complete surrender and dependence.  In times of uncertainty as everything gets stripped away, we are confronted with the idols in our lives and the areas where we are striving to be independent from God.  We see more clearly how much we are trusting in money when we lose our jobs and watch our bank accounts dwindle.  When God moves us away from all of our close friends and family, we may see how much we were relying on them to fulfill our deepest needs instead of the One who created us.  As our doctors share with us that they found cancer in the people we love, we begin to wonder if we really are okay with God's will no matter what it its.  If we were to lose everything in this world, what would we have left?  When everything else fades to the background, Christ shines forth as the only One that matters, superior above all else.  Once we are completely centered on Him, we can truly enjoy the beauty of the life He has given to us and appreciate His good gifts apart from the bonds of entitlement, false security, independence, and self-glorification and regardless of what circumstances we find ourselves in.  

God has also used my current life pauses to remind me of who He is and to show Himself in my life.  In the midst of my doubt and unfaithfulness, He has been so faithful to express to me in tangible ways that He still loves me, listens to me, and provides for my needs.   He has spoken to my heart through timely sermons at church, songs on the radio, and chapters in my devotionals by Elisabeth Elliot.  He has encouraged me through close friends who accept me as I am and who listen to understand, and He even provided for a desire that I had not specifically requested of Him.  He sees my heart, and when I doubt His love, He always points me back to His Son.  If there is anyone worthy of my trust and my patience during life's pauses, it is Him.