Flashback: Feb. 2008

This blog has been in the works since late 2007, five years ago. Yeah, I'm a little slow. Back then my life was in major upheaval. For some reason, I write most when life is painful, so I did a lot of writing then. And now that I've finally found the nerve to actually post my writings, I've decided to pepper my here-and-now posts with some flashback posts once in a while. So, here's my first flash-back post. Written in February of 2008.

This life, what happens while living it, how my character and integrity are tested, my refinement through each and every fire, my willingness to submit to the process (which at times is excruciating and unrelenting), my ability – no my decision – to trust God in all things is what is really at stake here. It, above all else, is what matters here on this earth. "... Choose this day whom you will serve..." (Josh. 24:15) In my head, I know this. I’ve read it. I’ve done Bible studies on it, read books about it (okay, parts of books about it). And yet...

Self-preservation comes out in big fashion during grief and I don’t just mean the grief of losing Ray. Grief has visited me on another monumental scale - second only to the loss of Ray - and I find myself grappling with it on a daily basis. It refuses to let go, and it hurts.

We all know not to filter our quality of life through our circumstances. Filter it rather, through our identity in Christ. Yeah, right, tell that to the woman who just lost her husband in a horrific traffic accident. Tell that to the man who fought with everything in him to save his wife from the deadly cancer that took her life anyway. Tell that to the mommies and daddies who are left to tell their children their mommy/daddy will not be coming home. Tell that to the children who will never see their parent again. And make sure to tell it to the spouse who’s been cheated on by the one who vowed to love, honor, cherish and, oh yeah, be faithful until death parted them. 

What makes me think, I can possibly rise above my circumstances and glorify Him? Who do I think I am anyway? And therein lies the question, the answer and the dilemma.

It’s really so elementary, so simple. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phil. 4:13) and “...if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Cor. 5:17) Though, I can, you can, we can, live to glorify Him in all things, simple does not equate to easy. We can. But as elementary and simple as it is to grasp the concept, to know the Truth... living it out day-by-day, where the rubber meets the road, where emotions and pain collide with faith and hope, there at that fork in the road is where we must find the strength to hold on to Him… no matter what. No matter how much pain I’m in, no matter what earthly and flesh-driven ‘relief’ may appeal to me at any given moment. No matter what. Period. No excuses. "... Choose this day whom you will serve..." Indeed.

Struggling to grasp this concept, and really not so much even the concept (theoretically speaking, I can certainly agree this is Truth), but living it in my daily walk. Living it with my children. Living that life of godly character and integrity when life is threatening to overtake me – there is the true test. And so, how am I living?

I’m not proud to say that more often than I care to recall, I succumb to the pressures. In those moments, I want to pull away from everyone, including those who need me most – my kids. And when it’s really bad, I just want to run! No kidding. The feeling is so real, I can barely stand to be anyplace at all. I just gotta get out of here – wherever here is, whatever situation here finds me in. I want to flee. And there is a part of me that really believes that if I could just run, I would actually be able to find peace somewhere, anywhere, but here.

And yet, here is exactly where I am. Here is where I am expected to live a life that will glorify Him. Yes, even when here is the very last place I want to be, the very last place I ever imagined I would be. Here, if I choose Jesus, is where my integrity and character are grown and tested, purified. Here is where I choose how I will respond, who I will glorify. Will I trust Him with my pain and emptiness or will I create a bigger mess by trying to quench it with the things of this earth? I don't know if there's ever been a point in my life where I feel weaker and more vulnerable than I do now.

Over these last 3 1/2 years, to varying degrees here is exactly where I’ve been. And now, when it seems the tidal waves that have threatened to destroy me are finally subsiding, now is when I feel the faintest, weakest, most vulnerable. Now is where I find myself feeling utterly exposed. Now, here, I feel as though the fight has been knocked out of me. It’s gone. I am desperate. But that is an entirely private matter, and it is odd. On the one hand, these last 3 ½ years, I have learned that I am stronger than I ever thought I was. No doubt. On the other hand, and running parallel with that knowledge, is the very real knowledge of my depleted state. The very real knowledge that my heart is absolutely starved, unprotected. Now is when I find myself longing, searching, struggling. Now, perhaps more than any other point in my life, I need the Lord to intervene miraculously.