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Posts Tagged ‘struggle’

I don't know, but He does. I can't fix it, but He can. I can't rescue anyone, but He already has.

I can’t sleep. Anxiety wakes me before dawn and I feel it’s vice-like grip wrapping around my stomach, pressing hard on my chest.  Thoughts roil and spin as my pulse quickens. Bile rises in the back of my throat as one silent message after another ticks across the screen of my mind like the captions of a silent movie.

Help me, Lord!I don't utter the words aloud, but they pour from my soul thick with worry and fear.#overcomingfear#anxiety#worry Click To Tweet

Help me, Lord! I don’t utter the words aloud, but they pour from my soul thick with worry and fear.

I know I’m meant to pray and I resort to intercession for the dear ones on my heart. I can’t imagine a good outcome. How could anything worthy or beautiful come from an ugly, sin-ridden situation like this one? How can God possibly bring something beautiful from the rubble?

So I continue whispering my prayers and sending them to the heart of the Father. I’m still restless throughout the day, even preoccupied at times. But the sensation of a weight sitting on my chest is gone. In it’s place? I’m reminded again and again of His faithfulness to His children.

When Naomi lost hope, God gave her Ruth.

When Mary heard of Christ’s impending birth, God sent her to Elizabeth.

When David faced the sword of the king, He offered protection through Jonathan.

When Shadrack, Meshack, and Abendego walked through the fire, the Lord stood with them.

When the waves washed over Peter, Jesus pulled him from the depths.

When the enemy laughed because He’d thought he’d overcome, Christ rose from the grave.

I am not the only one to experience both joy and sorrow, celebration and grief, or delight and despair. Because we live in a world designed by God but polluted by the enemy, time will oscillate between glimpses of heaven and encounters with hell.

For. A. Time.

Then Christ will scoop each of His children up in the arms of eternity. The sorrow? Destroyed. The grief? Overcome. The despair? Decimated. Instead, we will only know and remember the love, mercy, and grace of the God who brought us through it all.

I long for the timelessness of all that is good and beautiful, don’t you? In the meantime, our wrestling with worry, anxiety and fear can take a back seat to the faithfulness of God.

If He extended grace before the cross, what will He do for you now? You are safe beneath His wings.#loved#treasured#saved. Click To Tweet

If He extended grace before the cross, what will He do for you now? Oh, Friend, you are safe beneath His wings.

Perhaps you’re struggling this week in the same way I have. Why not recite these words of hope as a proclamation of God’s love for you. Complete the __________ with your name as a reminder that you are beloved by Him.

When _______________ lost hope, God gave her Jesus.

When ________________ knew of impending trials or accusations, God sent her Jesus.

When ________________ faced the sword of the king, He offered protection through Jesus.

When ________________ walked through the fire, the Lord stood with her.

When the waves washed over _________________, Jesus pulled her from the depths.

When the enemy laughed because He’d thought he’d overcome __________________ , Christ rose from the grave.

Then, print off this list of verses to pray over and recite when the enemy comes at you with fear and anxiety. You can print them here.

10 Bible Verses to Help You When You Fear the Future (1)

Peace and grace,

Tammy

I often link up with the following wonderful bloggers:

Mondays  Sunday Thoughts / InstaEncouragements/ Anita Ojeda Mandy and Michele

Tuesdays RaRa Linkup /GraceFull Tuesday / Tell His Story/Anchored Abode, Dance with Jesus

Wednesdays   Recharge Wednesday Welcome Wednesday /LetsHave Coffee/ Porch Stories

Thursdays Heart Encouragement  /  Tune In Thursday  /Salt and Light / Five Minute Friday

Fridays Dance With Jesus / Faith N Friends / Fresh Market Friday / Grace and Truth / Faith on Fire / Blogger Voices Network/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Looking forward to a day enjoying the mid-summer beauty of Colorado, my parents and I chatted casually.  We spoke of aunts…uncles…jobs…and my two spirited, live-wire little boys.  As if their mention alerted me to the sudden quiet of the picnic area, my head banked almost involuntarily from left to right.  Ben? Check.  Connor?  Oh. My. Goodness.

When Connor was small, he was the gregarious, adventurous sort who required the oft-dismissed-as-a-diminutive-torture-device “safety leash” in airports.  (I know…I know–some of you are violently opposed to its use.  But, please, be merciful in your criticism. You can only understand if you, too, had a Connor.)

He was the toddler who bypassed every child safety toilet lid and managed to circumvent the double-locked, baby-proofed front entry door to cavort happily on the sidewalk in nothing but his itty-bitty birthday suit.

At the tender age of three, Connor managed to launch himself–and his trusty hobby horse, Cocoa, from our top flight of stairs.  Thankfully, no animals (or children) were harmed during the recording of the family video.  

Naturally, any time my sweet boy was quiet or escaped my view–well, I silently panicked. Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale. Exhale.  (Who knew lamaze would prove useful after childbirth?)

Quickly assessing the situation, I rallied the troops. The family dispersed with each of us calling out for my nursery-school scamp.  Becoming more desperate with each passing moment, my mother’s heart rejoiced at the sound of Connor’s tiny voice answering mine. “I’m up here, mama!”

Surveying the row of cliffs in front of me, I finally noticed Connor mounted at the edge of a massive, sandstone rock.  There he stood–victorious and proud in a pair of 5T shorts and his favorite Elmo shirt–while I had to push past the fear lodged in my throat to speak.

“Connor.  Don’t move!  It’s very important that you don’t move!  Mommy will be up there right away.”

The next words Connor spoke have continued to define much of his life.                           “Don’t worry, mom.  I’m not afraid to die.”

On the other hand, I have nearly always lived my life–well, cautiously.  Some people fly airplanes or climb the highest peaks.  I religiously review the safety rules in the “front pocket of the seat back” any time I fly the friendly skies. I adore swimming in the ocean–if my husband is by my side–and while the idea of a Caribbean cruise is romantic, I’m afraid the bottle of Lysol in my hand (to ward off unwelcome stomach viruses) and the orange-vest-turned-accessory (Did you ever watch The Titanic?!) would dampen the mood.

You’re beginning to understand.  I. Am. Not. Brave.

And through the grace of God, I choose Jesus anyway.  What do I mean? Following Christ is not all sunshine and roses.  Jesus and the apostles were straightforward about the cost of walking the narrow path.  There was no nuance, hidden agenda, or carefully prepared marketing plan.

Good bye easy street; hello rocky road.

The scriptures are almost dire–

 “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Matthew 16:24

and

                      “In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.”               2  Timothy 3:12

So…why follow Jesus?  Because, dear Friend, there is something far greater than living for self or deflecting momentary judgement by a broken world.

This Christian journey may be filled with peril.  There will be an Adversary.  But, there is the guarantee–of knowing Christ more fully…of living life deeply…and of sharing Hope.  Even those of us who lack bravery can find courage in the beauty of such a promise.

Will you join me?

Scripture for Reflection

What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ… (Phillipians 3:8)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Twenty years before, you would have noticed a simple farmhouse with a large picture window overlooking the fields.  Now all that remains is a blackened trunk sprouting unruly branches–the memorial of a family heritage, a symbol of struggle, and the testimony of living triumphantly.

That scarred tree stands next to a gaping hole, marking the place of my childhood home–a place I loved.  I remember a quaint, welcoming home with a picture window that invited the morning sunrise in every day.  Green grass, fed by the nearby creek, wrapped around the house and a stand of Russian olive trees waved in the background.

But one starry December evening, my childhood home was swallowed by angry flames.  Only the tree remained.

While the antiquated electrical system may have been at fault, I often wonder.  You see, our home was also a place of fear and dysfunction, rage and drunkenness, threats and retribution.  My mother, brother, and I were always at risk.  Then…I told.  Was the truth too difficult to bear?  Did the remorse result in the physical purging of guilty reminders?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.

But the blackened tree still stands–bravely pointing upward, bearing the wounds of its past, and determined to live the life it was meant to.

Friend, what scarred trees are there in your life that serve as reminders of personal struggle as well as His goodness and grace?

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