Dear God,
I almost didn't go to church today. Almost. We didn't go last Sunday because we were on a drive and then a plane... and then another plane... and then another drive back from a wedding that was well worth the sleep deprivation.
And then Wednesday came... Wednesday night... and I missed our weekly small group meeting because the baby was teething and cranky and I wasn't feeling my best either. So I stayed home with her. I shouldn't have, but I did.
And then this morning rolled around... even with that extra hour... the baby was still teething and irritable. I might as well have been teething and irritable too-- there's a noticeable difference in your spirit when you stop pressing in. I was reading my devotionals... I was praying... but where was my heart in all of this? I was short with my husband. Sometimes losing patience with the girls after a long day. Going through the motions without calibration. I allowed myself to feel depressed and wallow in sadness instead of claiming victory over it. I wasn't digging in. I felt it. The weight on your shoulders gets heavier the longer you stay in mindsets that steal your joy.
So, how did I so easily talk myself out of going?
"Ooh... I just heard the baby sniffle... I should probably stay home with her. She might cry during service and be disruptive... yeah, for the benefit of everyone else there, I definitely need to stay back with her...plus, she just whined again. So that confirms it. I'll watch the live feed instead."
But as I put off getting ready, there was a single thought that broke through the myriad of excuses... "Wouldn't that be even more of a reason to go? ...to a place where there's healing... to a place where there's prayer?"
I've found that usually the times when I hear an internal barrage of reasons NOT to be somewhere... those are the times when I really NEED to make sure I'm there. I started getting ready. I wasn't going to let the excuses win. I thought we'd be late. I hate being late. Another excuse creeping in... "You're going to be late anyway, so you just might as well not go at all."
I picked up my phone and texted my friend to say we'd be there. She might have been confused as to why I would randomly announce my attendance, but it was for accountability. I said I would be there, so I needed to follow through and show up. Surprise, surprise... we were actually early. [If you know us, you realize how much of a big deal it is.]
I knew I made the right decision.
Today, I was forced to ask some tough questions. To confront myself on a deeper level. To face some uncomfortable realities. One of the biggest being, "If you really believed He changed your life, you'd live your life differently." It was said with love, not condemnation. Not as a scare tactic. Not as a guilt trip. Love.Conviction isn't meant to tear down, but to build up. (Proverbs 27:17 - "As iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.")
I'd much prefer being confronted with an uncomfortable truth that sharpens my spirit than any amount of cozy untruths keeping me complacent in stagnancy.
I needed to be there today. I know that God meets us where we are [and doesn't leave us there], but today I also needed to get over myself and meet Him where He is, too.
Sincerely,
this lump of clay--a work in progress
Lord, help me to be someone who digs in and does something for You. ♡
Dear Mom,
It’s Sunday. I have a newfound appreciation for the expert way you’d wrangle Jenn, Tris, and I together to help us get ready—and yourself—to leave the house early enough for us to get to church on time… Whenever we’re the first ones ready, I hear you saying, “All your father has to do is get himself ready and he’s STILL the last one out!” I think I might have even said something similar to the girls today too… but about Nate. I thought of you.
I wanted to go to church today, but at the same time, I had a feeling that Pastor Trent or the worship team, or SOMEONE would say something that would just set off the tears I’d been holding back. You know how I hate crying around people. I almost cried during praise and worship when we sang, “We’re gonna’ see a victory! We’re gonna’ see a victory! For the battle belongs to the Lord!...”
The last time we sang that song was two weeks ago, but it meant something different to me then. Two weeks ago, I was praying that song in my heart, sobbing at the altar for your healing. Last Sunday, Dad, Jenn, Tris, and I were at the funeral home making plans for your burial.
On the surface, this Sunday didn’t feel like we’d seen much of a victory—at least not in the way I prayed for. I felt bad for even thinking that. I almost wrote out a prayer request not to be mad at God for not answering my prayers the way I believed He would.
And then, the musicians started playing a song Machaela introduced me to months ago that she heard in youth group that really spoke to me. Do you remember “Way Maker”? I had you listen to it before. And played it for you in the hospital. And again, at your funeral service. I had never heard the worship team play it before during Sunday service, but they did today.
Part of it goes like this:
Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper Light in the darkness My God, that is who You are Even when I don’t see it, You’re working Even when I don’t feel it, You’re working You never stop, You never stop working You never stop, You never stop working
“Way Maker” – Leeland
I don’t know why God chose not to work a miracle in your healing here on Earth. I know that I’ve felt betrayed—like He broke His promise… and I still struggle with that emotion sometimes and have to remind myself that even though I don’t always see or feel it, He’s working in our lives.
They played the song again at the end of service too… I really needed to hear it again. And this time, as I sang with my eyes closed, trying to hold back tears… I felt such a warm, compassionate hug. I didn’t even have to open my eyes to know which of my church sisters it was. And I’m telling you, Mom, that if nothing else, I needed to be there today for that hug. And that song. And for Pastor Trent to talk about the importance of praise—even when you feel like you’re stuck in a rut, or in a pit… surrounded by darkness. In the midst of it all, sing praise.
I’ve been noticing a lot of things about myself lately that remind me of you. Even some of the things I never used to understand—or even be slightly irritated over as a kid… guess what… I do them too. Like today, after church… after we got home and the girls started audibly getting on each other’s nerves… I heard you doing that thing you’d always do when Tris and I would argue and your patience was running thin… the casual prayer voice… “God, give me patience with these WONDERFUL children You gave me…” except I was the one saying it. And they were the ones looking at me like I had twelve heads.
I get it now. It wasn’t easy raising three girls whose personalities tended to clash at the most inconvenient times. If you prayed for me to be able to understand those struggles ‘one day’… I guess God answered that one because that’s about to be me too… Well played, Mom… well played.
I miss you.
Love always,
“Pookie”
This is the actual version of the song… not my half-singing between tears version.
Kaleidoscopic Grace 