Do You Trust God with Your Timeline?

Have you noticed how heartache often comes with a timestamp?

In recent weeks, as friends have shared their disappointments over dinner, each has worked backward, taking me on a journey through the major events that led to this moment. With each recap, I could have grabbed a Sharpie and drawn a timeline on the table in front of us with the major moments marked like a tick on a ruler: 

• Began following Christ → served faithfully in church → was overlooked for a leadership role

• Dreamed of getting married → met an amazing man → got stuck in a prolonged engagement

• Prayed for a restored family → worked toward reconciliation → is still estranged from loved ones

Tick, tick, boom. 

Each woman had expected her timeline to lead to a different outcome, but reality had caused her to wrestle internally: Did I misunderstand what I was supposed to do? Did I mess up somewhere? Can I really trust God with this part of my life?

A Twist in the Timeline 

Scripture is filled with the lives of real people whose stories didn’t unfold according to their desired timing or expectations. If you’ve studied the book of Esther, perhaps you’ve plotted out the major ups and downs of her dramatic story. But have you considered the ordinary and extraordinary moments of Mordecai’s life?

When Mordecai is introduced in Esther 2, his family had been exiled to Babylon, which marked the beginning of a long period of displacement for Mordecai and his people (Est. 2:5–6). He unexpectedly became the guardian of Esther after the death of her parents and then raised her as his own daughter (Est. 2:7).  Later, Mordecai heard of a plot to assassinate the king and reported it. The murderous plan was verified, and the men behind it were hanged (Est. 2:21–23).

“After all this took place,” the next chapter begins, “King Ahasuerus honored . . .” Mordecai? No. The villain of the story was promoted to the highest position, and Mordecai was overlooked. 

The author [of the book of Esther] places the promotion of Haman just where the original readers would have expected a report of Mordecai’s reward as a benefactor of the king. Haman’s introduction forms an unexpected twist when juxtaposed with Mordecai’s unrewarded loyalty.

If you’re familiar with the story of Esther, you know the conflict between Mordecai and Haman only escalated from there. You also know how the story ended. But what if you were the one living this story? Imagine the moment from Mordecai’s perspective, having fulfilled your role and responsibilities faithfully, only for someone else to reap the benefits.

Can you feel the disappointment? How your prayers would sound that night as you crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling? In deeply disappointing moments, it doesn’t take much for discouragement to lead to doubt about who God is, which can change the way you respond to Him. 

Tick, tick, boom. 

Finding God’s Providence 

As Esther 3 begins, we don’t know what Mordecai was thinking or what doubts plagued his mind. But consider the thoughts that show up in your mind when discouragement feels fresh—when you look at those who receive what you were hoping for and you think, “I thought I’d have that by now.” Or you ask, “Why hasn’t it happened for me yet?” 

On those days . . .

• Do you struggle to believe that God sees you and cares? 

• Do you feel as though God is inconsistent or unfair when He allows good to seemingly happen to others and not you?  

• Do you trust God’s power over the events of your life but not His wisdom in bringing them to pass in the best timing? 

Even before this point in the story, God had been at work in the details of Mordecai’s life. In a recent episode of the Revive Our Hearts podcast, Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth highlighted the providence of God on display in this section of Scripture. Providence, she explained, is the fact that “God sees what is going to happen. [He] ordains ahead, and [He] goes before His people to make provision for those circumstances before we ever get there.”

Nancy pointed out God’s providence in putting Mordecai in a position at the king’s gate to work, as well as in arranging the circumstances of the day so that Mordecai would be able to hear the assassination plot and report it. God’s divine provision is evident when you look at the details of Mordecai’s life.

Paying attention to evidence of past divine providence in your life can help you fight present disappointment—even if you have to think back years or decades. Ask yourself:

• Where have I seen God at work orchestrating the details of my life to bring me to this point in time?

• How have I experienced God’s goodness, especially in ways I took for granted in the moment?

• How have I witnessed His power and wisdom in opening or closing doors at just the right moment?

Allow hindsight to deepen your hope that God’s timing is perfect and His providence is kind.

Will You Trust God’s Timeline?

After Mordecai’s loyalty was overlooked, what was the next tick in his timeline? It was a small one: he went back to his job. As Nancy mentioned in the podcast,

Mordecai’s good deed was not recognized or rewarded for another four or five years. 

Can I remind you that God sees, God knows, and God will bring all things to light in His time? You see that theme through the Scripture: “Evil pursues sinners, but to the righteous, good shall be repaid” (Prov. 13:21 NKJV). “The Son of Man will come . . . and then He will reward each according to his works” (Matt. 16:27 NKJV).

Then, not now. So much of the reward for the Christian life is not now. So much of our reward, as servants of God and of our families, is not now. The reward is later.

Mordecai wouldn’t see how this moment fit into the bigger picture until years later. In the meantime, the Lord’s unseen hand was at work behind the scenes, aligning circumstances, shifting pieces into place, and preparing a moment when His plan would unfold in ways beyond what anyone could have imagined (see Esther 6). 

When that moment came, it was no longer just about Mordecai. What had seemed like a delay in his life years before had always been part of a much larger storyline, one that meant deliverance for God’s people and drew attention to the sovereignty, provision, and grace of God Himself. 

So much of what the Lord is currently doing in your life won’t be fully revealed until you see Him face to face: then, not now. In His kindness, He may reveal reasons why some of the events in your story have happened the way they have, but until then, you can trust His timeline for your life. And that trust will help you:

• Stretch and strengthen your faith, as you acknowledge that the Lord’s wisdom surpasses your own, and that His paths and plans are good (Psalm 25:4–5). 

• Recognize that God’s purposes are bigger than you. If you could see how the pieces of your life fit into His master plan, you’d be amazed at the intentionality and grace behind the good works He’s called you to walk out today (Eph. 2:10). 

• Bring praise to God’s glory. You’re a small part of the grand narrative He’s been writing from the beginning of time into eternity. As you acknowledge that He’s sovereign over your life and surrender to His good plans, even in the midst of your disappointment, you glorify Him (Eph. 1:11–12). 

Two Thousand Years Later    

Thousands of years after the events of the book of Esther took place, Jewish people around the world still celebrate His deliverance. Last night, March 13, marked the beginning of one of the most joyous holidays on the Jewish calendar—Purim. Beginning at sunset yesterday evening and continuing through nightfall tonight, Jews will read the book of Esther and rehearse the events that led to their people being saved.

Followers of Christ are still talking about the timeline of Esther all these years later because it was never a story about Mordecai or Esther—it was a testimony of God’s providence, His faithfulness to His people, and the reality that He can be trusted. 

As you think back on the story, it’s not enough to see His hand at work in times past or in others’ lives. As you look at what feels absent from your own timeline, if you feel the sting of lingering disappointment in your story today, will you trust the Lord with your story? He never forgets, never overlooks, and never fails. One day you’ll see how every unexpected twist in the plot leads to glory. Until then, rest in His providence, and allow your timeline to turn your eyes to Him. "Do You Trust God with Your Timeline?" was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com.

The Precious Gift of an Imperfect Christmas

Picture it: Christmas morning. For the first time all month, you’re not focused on your chronic illness. You’re not thinking about all of the Decembers you were too sick to get out of bed. You’re not fixated on the pain in your head. All of your attention is on the presents in your hands, the poinsettias on your aunt’s front porch, and the family waiting for you inside. As you walk through the entryway and put your purse down, you wrap your arms around your people and almost remember what it’s like to feel well. 

Between bites of roasted turkey and fresh cranberries, you listen to your parents and their siblings tease each other about moments from their childhood, and you reach for a napkin to dry tears of laughter. Your cousins share career updates, changes to college majors, plans to get married. The conversation quiets. The questions swing your way. You stare down at your place setting, always startled a bit when your invisible illness is seen by others.

You take a breath and prepare to answer. You know what they want: a praise report to take back to their neighbors and small groups and friends from church who have been praying for you for years. You want to give them an honest update about your health, but at the same time, you don’t want to say that you’re struggling with new symptoms or a fresh flare-up or that you’re afraid your medicine has stopped working. You don’t want to break their hearts on a holiday.

Before you look up, you hear someone say it: “All we want for Christmas is for you to be well.” You don’t know how to respond. You hear the compassion underneath their words. You know they come from a good place. They’re kind words and consistent with your desire to be healed. But they separate you from the rest of your family. You are no longer a part of the whole, but the patient at the end of the table.

In your mind, you’re not much different from the others, sitting beside your aunt who is struggling to get pregnant, your cousin who is still praying for a husband, and your uncle who can’t find a job. Their ongoing needs are a source of ongoing isolation, too.

But the room stills as everyone waits for your answer; you feel like nothing you say will comfort them. What do you do when you show up without the one thing your family wants more than anything? When you can’t give them the gift of not worrying about your health anymore?

Better Gifts 

Here’s one solution: offer them something better than your health.

Your family has watched you suffer year after year; they assume the best gift you could receive would be physical healing. But freedom from pain is an unsatisfying present, an empty box, if it comes apart from Christ. Jesus is the best gift. He is what we all need most this season. Because of Him, we have gifts to offer that are better than a clean bill of health.

Chronic pain sufferers have many chances to learn this lesson. We practice dependence on Jesus just to survive the day. Family members who live close by ride this chronic illness wave with us and cry out to the Lord alongside us as our pain comes and goes, as we try new treatments, and as we wait for flare-ups to calm down. But family members who live far away don’t have the same intimate opportunities to enter into our experience of suffering. When they see us on Christmas, they see all of the updates they have received over the last year standing in front of them, face-to-face. As they are reminded of our suffering all over again, they are thrown back into a cycle of grief.

Their sadness can feel like our failure. We may be tempted to succumb to self-pity. We may try to shut down their displays of emotion by refusing to discuss bacteria or pills or medical plans over the holidays. But sickness is not a legitimate excuse to avoid serving our families, even when we feel like we have nothing to offer. This year, whether we are coming into Christmas ready to share good news of improved health or whether our chronic symptoms are in full swing, we do not have to walk (or Zoom) into family gatherings empty-handed. Here are three precious gifts we can talk about this Christmas.

1. The Gift of Faith

Look at the examples of Elizabeth and Mary in Luke 1—Elizabeth’s suffering was real and it was long, but she walked with God and rejoiced in His faithfulness. Tell your family about the deep confidence you have in Christ, especially now, as symptoms of chronic illness remain. Tell them who He is, and why He can be trusted. Talk to them about the promises of God and the power of the cross and why the resurrection is proof that everything God has said will come true. Talk about God’s character: the aspects that make sense to you and the areas that are too great for you to comprehend. Explain what it means to you that God cares about your condition and why it matters that He is sovereign over your sickness. Tell them about the times that you were faithless in the last twelve months, then share all the ways God has not stopped being faithful to you this year. And as you do, don’t forget Elizabeth’s words in Luke 1:45: “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” 

2. The Gift of Hope

1 Peter 3:15 (NLT) says, "If someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it.” True hope is not based on how well your treatment is working but in the hard won victory of Christ’s accomplishments on the cross. Comfort your family with the reality that a far better future is coming. Because of the gospel, you can be one hundred percent certain that someday you will be well. It might not be today. It might not be until you reach eternity—but one day, because of Jesus, you will be wholly and completely healed. Tell your family why you believe there is no better option than to throw your whole self into the hands of Jesus, knowing that whatever happens next, heaven rules.

3. The Gift of Love

Show your family the same kind of love that Christ has shown to you. Remember 1 Corinthians 13:4–7: Love is patient, even when you are tired of the topic. Love does not respond with sarcasm, even when you are offered weird medical advice. Love is not irritable, even when you are exhausted. Love is not resentful, even when you have reason to be. Model the kind of love that does not keep records of insensitive comments, but rejoices with the truth.

We do not have to wait until we have good news about our health to celebrate the best gifts of all. Let’s invite our families into our suffering, into our celebration of the hope we have in Christ. When the hard questions come, let’s thank God that one day Jesus will wipe away every health question and concern, and all will be well. Picture it: Christmas morning. It will not be perfect. Everyone at your Christmas table will have pain points, some of them seen, most of them invisible. Isn’t this why Jesus came? To give us the only gift that can truly comfort us—Himself. Instead of leaving the best gifts unopened because they can be awkward, let’s unwrap the joy of His presence together.

The Precious Gift of an Imperfect Christmas was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com. 

A Refuge in Harvey's Wake

Before Hurricane Harvey arrived in Houston, I hadn’t paid much attention to the piece of paper that’s been hanging in my grandparents’ beach house since August 18, 1983. The paper, now faded and framed, has been kept on wood-paneled walls in their living room in Galveston, a few streets away from the Gulf of Mexico.

My brothers and I were raised in those waves, practically born with seawater in our blood and boogie boards under our arms. We never had any reason to be afraid of the water, even as our parents made us aware of the kind of rip currents that can render a strong person powerless. The ferocity of the open water was simply not on our radar; it was represented only in the brown and white photographs my grandparents had framed above their television. The series of 3x5 shots showed the aftermath of Hurricane Alicia, during which tornadoes tossed aside the roof of the house as though it were made of cardboard.

My grandparents rebuilt the beach house after Alicia, and they made repairs after Allison and Rita and Ike. On their walls, the prayer of one guest has remained through the decades, preserved in calligraphy ink. The handwritten dedication is signed by its author, dated in remembrance of Alicia’s destruction. It begins:

We gave it back to you, dear Lord,
  the Source from which it came
  knowing that You also guard
  the seas, the wind, the rain . . .

Harvey Arrives

Growing up on the Gulf Coast, my favorite glimpses of the Creator always came when the sun began to set, when there was just enough light to wander through the fields of wildflowers lining the path to the water. In the moment when dusk turned to darkness, my friends and I would pass around flashlights and point them at hermit crabs hurrying across the sand, scrambling out of holes, and scurrying to find new homes.

I thought about the hermit crabs the night that Hurricane Harvey arrived in Texas. My roommate had come home with waffle fries and bags filled with flashlights and candles, several sacrilegiously painted with the face of Jesus on the glass. We watched the news as Rockport and Corpus Christi were slammed with winds as the hurricane made landfall. It was the first night I heard helicopters flying overhead, their spotlights illuminating the paths of people running for shelter.

Twelve hours later, my roommate and I were the ones receiving messages warning us that water was rising and that we needed to pack bags and prepare to evacuate. As our local meteorologist looked into the camera and said, “Lord, have mercy,” my roommate and I prayed together, surrendering our hearts to the God who reigns sovereignly over the wind and waves.

Then we picked up what was left on the floor and unplugged all electronics and propped up our couch on cans of coconut milk. Water entered our home, and we ran through hallways, sloshing brown water into bedrooms, throwing every towel and sheet and blanket we owned at the baseboards. When we knew it was useless to continue wringing out water, we sat down on dirty floors muddied with debris and begged God to stop the rain. We rejoiced when, days later, He did.

God’s Goodness in the Bayou City

When my street drained to the point that we could safely open the door without water coming in, I pulled yellow rain boots back on and walked to Brays Bayou, one of the slow-moving, marshy rivers that weaves throughout neighborhoods near the Texas Medical Center and Rice University, not too far from downtown. The earliest storm predictions had anticipated that this bayou would overflow its banks and flood nearby homes, but on the first night, it was still startling to hear that water had risen ten feet in one hour.

As the bayou spilled over its banks into my subdivision, just enough water entered our home to force us to throw out furniture and much of our flooring. Although my roommates and I have had to find other places to stay, we are far better off than the majority of our friends, family members, and neighbors nearby, who have lost everything.

Evidence of this is out on front lawns all over the city. Sidewalks have become a wall of floorboards and insulation and sheetrock, rotting and reeking of mold; a wall of carpet and couches and dining room tables; a wall where wet teddy bears top off the trash.

Almost a week has passed, and helicopters continue to fly over the bayou. Some are still dropping baskets down in order to save people, but at this point, most are attempting to measure the amount of loss with wide-angle shots of the area. Their footage reminds me of my grandparents’ photographs. The same faded brown and white haze seems to have fallen over the city; from above, all that can be seen is water.

As reporters conduct interviews on the ground, the stories pour onto land already saturated with grief. For some time, I sat and watched one interviewer give a live TV broadcast while standing on a boat in the middle of the freeway. As he pulled people to safety, he gave them the opportunity to share their experiences. He talked to a six-year-old girl who had seen her home destroyed, but she was quick to tell the world that she was grateful God had kept her family safe. As her dad picked her up and put her feet on dry ground, the interviewer bowed his head and turned away, not wanting his audience to see the tears that were dripping into the water as he whispered, “God is good.”

News updates continue to be shared in a compressed way: a series of calamities coming one after the other. The reporting style has made me think of the opening chapter of Job. The worst news of Job’s life is narrated in rapid succession, summarized in a few short verses. It’s as though the camera stays focused on the news desk, delivering the devastating facts before finally turning to Job to see how it registers with him. In 1:20, Job responds. He stands up, tears his robe, and shaves his head. He falls to the ground and worships.

Texas Strong

This week, organizations and individuals raising support for survivors have used the slogan “Houston Pride” to unite their fundraising efforts. I love my hometown, but I have had a hard time hashtagging “Houston Pride” because this hurricane has humbled so many of us. It has brought us to our knees before the throne of God, asking Him for grace to submit to His reign in the midst of suffering we simply do not understand.

So much devastation has already occurred, and the aftermath of a hurricane can often be more destructive than the storm itself. When demolition occurs and walls are stripped away, damp water becomes the breeding ground for mosquitoes and mold spores to spread. Buckets and buckets of bleach have been brought into the city in recent days, and clean-up efforts are currently focused on keeping dangerous mycotoxins out of the air.

But more than mold, I fear the contamination of bitterness into our atmosphere. Praise God that it has been kept at bay as the Body of Christ has poured into Houston from all over the United States. Christians have sent supplies and they have sent their people, and their presence has infused hope and joy into every part of this city.

When these precious servants return to their own hometowns, pray that we will not forget the compassion and grace God has shown us through each one of them. Pray for our hearts and for our hope, for our city to be rebuilt on the foundation of Jesus Christ. Join us in praising God, for as we have witnessed here in Houston, when the Lord is the saving refuge of the state, there is no strength like “Texas Strong.” There is no faithfulness like our God’s.

The last lines of the poem hanging in the beach house do not promise a future without storms; in the three decades since these words were penned, they have only worsened. But we who have been rescued by Christ have a shelter in the Most High, a refuge and fortress, in whom we can trust.

Though life for us may sometimes seem
A fragment torn by wind,
You, our God, have never failed
To all our needs attend.

~Patricia C. Neil; August 18, 1983

A Refuge in Harvey's Wake was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com. 

a day with women who know true freedom

In Luke 13, Jesus is teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. A woman is there, bent over, physically unable to straighten herself; she has been suffering for eighteen years. Jesus sees her and calls for her, and she steps forward, staring at the floor, feeling the eyes of the crowd on her body. Standing in front of Jesus, she strains to look up at Him. He says to her, “You are freed from your disability.” You are freed.

She begins to praise God, pausing as Jesus asks the ruler of the synagogue, “Ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?” (v. 16). The woman will not forget these words. Jesus is defending her dignity in a place where women traditionally have been shunned; He is showing the leaders His power, showing her His care. He is declaring her to be a daughter of Abraham, an heir according to promise, part of the family of God. Precious woman, welcome to the sisterhood.

We are the women Christ sets free: women born into a broken world, into aching bodies with bitter hearts, with minds bent on our own way; women who come to Christ with desires so crooked, we could never straighten ourselves. We stand because of Him. We stand amazed by Him. We stand aligned with Him.

A Day Without a Woman

Today, March 8, many communities will be impacted by “A Day Without a Woman,” a protest organized by the same grassroots group behind January’s Global Women’s March. For twenty-four hours, women will disappear across the country and wait for the world to notice. They will refrain from work and abstain from buying items online or in stores. By removing themselves from the economy, women will demand the world acknowledge their significance.

Some people will be drawn to this event to protest the marginalization of disabled women, misogyny, domestic abuse, racism, and other incredibly important issues. However, as Christian women, we need to understand that if we stand with this strike, our actions will affirm the movement’s Unity Principles, especially the founders’ unbiblical views of gender, marriage, and reproduction. Since these views clearly contradict Scripture, we cannot stand for them.

Women Christ Set Free

The organizers of “A Day Without a Woman” proclaim, “We must free ourselves and our society. . . . ” But we are women who have found true freedom in Christ—women given life through His strength.

We are women who were dead in our sin, who have been resurrected by God’s power, who have become heirs of the crucified King. He who did not count equality with God as a thing to be grasped gave up His rights so we could be righteous. He laid down His life in love.

We are women God created in His image, designed with dignity and value, who cling to the work of the gospel. Although the world does not always view the worth of women, we seek to reflect the respect and mercy we received at the cross, “esteeming others as better than ourselves, seeking to build them up,” embracing the beauty of grace.

We are women who uphold the Creator-God’s design of humanity, who see God’s concept of “male and female” as part of His magnificent, purposeful plan. We are women who maintain marriage to be “sacred and binding,” between one man and one woman, and we celebrate and support it as such. We are women who see the worth God has given human life, how precious it is in all stages and seasons, so we work to protect it “from the point of conception until rightful death.”

We are women who have been born again, women who bend our knees on the Solid Rock, who humble ourselves in solidarity, “standing firm in one spirit, with one mind striving side by side for the faith of the gospel.” Thank you, Lord, for the joy of this sisterhood.

In Luke 13, we meet a woman who, after eighteen years of suffering, has only minutes left before she is healed. When Jesus calls her, she walks toward Him, and the last painful steps she takes lead her straight to Christ. He is her finish line, her long-hoped for Healer, and we are women who walk this same way. Each step we take sends us gloriously closer to seeing our Savior face-to-face. Fully free, at last.

A Day with Women Who Know True Freedom was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com. 

facing heartache on earth; finding hope in the heavens

My first semester as a full-time teacher, my grandfather, the rocket scientist, came to the classroom and explained the concept of propulsion systems to a group of five- to eight-year-olds. It was a presentation he had polished by teaching generations: He had taught my grandmother’s fourth graders and my mom’s fifth graders, and on that Friday, he was going to meet a few of mine.

Looking Toward the Heavens

Neither the students nor Grandpa quite knew what to expect when he entered the women’s center, the safehouse that provided refuge for these kids, their brothers and sisters, and their mothers. The students sat in a semicircle on the rug awaiting his arrival, swinging their feet against chair legs, their muddy tennis shoes hanging over a map of the world. As Grandpa sat down and held up an old poster of a space shuttle on launch day, they leaned forward to look at the mountainous billows of smoke and steam and power left behind. These students, little ones who had seen far too much in their short lifetimes, had never been exposed to anything like this. They were captivated.

As Grandpa pulled out a brightly colored balloon and began to blow it up, the students watched, wide-eyed. As soon as it was completely filled with air, Grandpa winked at me and let it fly. After it fell behind the bookshelves, we began to hunt for higher ceilings. We took the kids outside, and I found my eighty-year-old grandfather kneeling on cold concrete, picking up a kindergartner’s feet and placing them on a launch pad. The students standing in line stared at the stomp rocket then looked to the clouds, focusing their eyes on the bluest of skies. They could suddenly see beyond the security cameras and concrete walls. Here was hope, soaring toward the heavens.

Several months ago, I came across some of the artwork the students had done in response to my grandparents’ visit—several rainbow-colored solar systems, smiling astronauts in space suits, a sun that glowed in the dark. In August, a few days after I stopped by his house to show him those pictures, I received the phone call that my grandfather had gone to be with Jesus.

Why Is It So Dark?

This world had never really been his home. My grandfather had worked at NASA during the first moon walk, but over the years, he had come to see what a small step for man that was compared to the giant leap taken by the Son of God, who gave up the majesty of heaven to stand on earthly soil. My grandfather’s Hero did not place a stake in the sand and leave the planet alone, but laying down His life, He restored what sin had made a “magnificent desolation.” My grandfather never stopped thanking God for this redemption.

The morning my grandparents visited the classroom, after we passed around snapshots of the solar system, a third grader paused to study a picture of earth, its perimeter fringed with the rich black of the galaxy. His hand shot into the air, and he asked, “If the sun is in space, why is it so dark there?” Years later, I feel the weight of that question. The impact of Jesus’ entrance on the atmosphere was immeasurable on every scale, and yet, the radiant eternal hope He provided has not removed the present heartache of death.

When my health hit one of its lowest points, I lived in my grandparents’ guest room. Night after night after night, as I experienced excruciating physical pain, Grandpa knelt beside my bed, gray head bowed, humbling himself before the God of the universe. I did not know then that he was teaching me what I would need to do to endure the present darkness: to press my knees into the ground and put all of my hope in the Son.

He Rules Over It All

Before Genesis 3, before death and disappointment and domestic violence and division, before man’s disobedience caused the consequences of evil, God created the heavens and the earth. The world was good because He was good, and He did not change by the end of the third chapter. Those thin pages carry the framework of the ages.

When the Apollo 8 crew orbited the moon, their message was broadcast against the backdrop of what has been considered one of America’s most turbulent years. As the three astronauts approached the lunar sunrise, they took turns reading familiar words, and the profundity of the passage broke through the static: “In the beginning, God.”

For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his faithful love toward those who fear him . . . and his righteousness to children’s children to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments. The LORD has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all (Ps. 103:11, 17–19).

Facing Heartache on Earth; Finding Hope in the Heavens was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com. 

desert season

The summer after I turned seventeen, I spent my days sprawled out on a wooden bench, wilting behind the glass of my treatment center's medical sauna. As I stared out at patients preparing for their own sessions, I watched the clock and wiped away the damage that 150 degrees can do. It was an ironic setting for a desert season.

While in the sauna, I was allowed a glass of water, some white towels in a stack, and a pair of clean socks. Any other possessions were to be left in a locker. Twice a day, I would give the nurses my glasses, hair ties, and sandals, but I would keep a small piece of paper and slip it into my pocket. It was a prescription folded over twice, wrapped in cellophane, and signed by the center's medical director.

The clinic had forbidden the use of any electronic devices: cell phones, walkie-talkies, smartwatches. After I had been there for several weeks, my doctor made an exception. I was the lone teenager loose in the building, his only pediatric patient, a kid in tremendous pain. Perhaps he knew I would need more than physical healing when he pulled out his prescription pad and put his approval in writing. I carried his note with me into the sauna and brought along an iPod so classic it didn't contain the warning light that shines when the device can no longer withstand the heat.

I wasn't sure I could withstand the heat. It was suffocating to sit alone in that space. I was regularly put on oxygen, but it was the circumstances that often made me feel like I could not breathe. My illness became a lonely place to live.

Once I had the prescription, I would lean back in the sauna and press play on my iPod, allowing the opening sequence of Revive Our Hearts to fill the silence. I sipped on water filled with tri-salts and received truth soaked with grace. I listened as Nancy taught from Scripture, telling the redemptive story of a big God, a sovereign God, a God who saw my situation. This God did not spare His own Son from the suffering of the world but sent Him into the middle of it.

Immanuel. That's what His Son was called: "God with us."

GOD with us. God WITH us. God with US.

He did not leave me alone.

A Different Kind of Detox

The first few weeks that I was there, as I would step out of the sauna and walk toward the shower, the nurses would tell me that they could smell the toxins on my skin. I scrubbed harder to get the scent off my body though I knew the source was beyond the surface. As I returned for sessions and continued listening to ROH, I started to smell the bitterness, the discontentment, the self-sufficiency that was seeping out of my pores. I wanted to detox the fear I was wearing on my skin, the despair that left me wondering if there was any purpose to what I was suffering. At some point, somehow, there was joy, as Nancy taught about the blood of Christ that washes away our filth, about the way that Christ fills up our emptiness with hope, about the mercy of God that completely cures our sin-sickness.

I had been struggling with physical illness for a long time. For ten years I faced worsening symptoms, and my family took me to doctor after doctor, some of the best in the nation, specialists who would take hours to study my case only to refer me on to someone else in their field or provide a treatment solution that did not last.

We moved away from the home where my brothers and I had grown up, and when my symptoms became too severe, I was forced to withdraw from my high school. My identity, built on accomplishments at school, fell to pieces; my friends seemed far; my future lacked the certainty of a world I once thought I could control.

Desperation changed my relationship with Christ. It was when it seemed like I had nothing that Jesus became everything.

Anything That Makes Me Need God . . .

I was not diagnosed with chronic neurological Lyme disease until a decade had passed, and in the process, I saw the truth of Nancy's words, even when they came wrapped in the messy reality of everyday life. "Anything that makes me need God is a blessing." I believed that. Then I began treatment for Lyme and started to slip back into some old habits, placing my trust in the doctor's hands and grasping at the hope of physical healing.

God has been merciful to this slow-learning patient.

Over and over again, I have listened to the lies that say a life without pain, a life without loneliness, a life without Lyme disease will bring the most fulfillment. I have banked my faith on blood tests and pill bottles, and when relief does not come, when I wake up with fever or with too much pain to function, the disappointment has been too much to withstand.

In those moments, the Holy Spirit's whispered grace points back to the God who is with us.

He will not leave me alone, and having Christ? It's better than having anything else this world could offer.

Today, I am about five years into my Lyme treatment. I continue to pray for God to restore my health, but even if He doesn't, even if this treatment fails, it doesn't change who God is. He is still good; He is still all-powerful; He is still worthy of all of my worship.

I will always long for health, but if it is sickness that brings me closer to Jesus, then it is a gift, and I am so thankful for it. This God is the one who found me in the desert season; though the heat may press on, there is peace in the soul-satisfying refreshment of His presence. He draws near, and He is enough.

God is with You in Your Desert Season was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com. 

life lesson

It's what I wanted to say when pre-service teachers asked, wide-eyed, what it's like to student-teach in a hospital classroom –

That what you think will break your heart: the big things, the diagnosis described in an enrollment packet, a body showing signs of disease? That's not what will keep you up at night.

That will become background information. Because when you start to teach, you'll be sitting across from children, and that's how you'll see students: as people. And you'll probably forget for awhile that these kids, your kids, are living as patients.

It's the details that will get to you: tiny moments you'll want to scrub off before they get under your skin. You'll be able to look a terminal patient in the eye, not lingering over the frailness of her body, and laugh with her at Junie B. Jones, not thinking about how soon her story could end.

It will be a piece of paper that unnerves you.

You'll be staring at the hospital census, sliding a highlighter over names, and the lines of black font will blur together. It will become what hurts the most: the moment her name is missing from your clipboard, a gap on the page which grows inside you.

The rest of the semester, you'll hold your breath when the census is printed, until the final name is accounted for and familiar faces sit down at their desks and the world doesn't feel so fragile.

It's a cliche you'll hold in your hands: time here is short. A lesson that forces you to exhale:

Lord, teach me how to live.

Give me life according to Your word.
Give me life in Your ways.
Give me life according to Your promise! 

Lord, teach me how to live.

a hard pill to swallow

There are those who sit across from you in a restaurant booth and speak with such grace, you long for a way to keep all of their words with you, to carry them in your pocket and pass them out to others in need. Katelyn is one of those, and many months ago, she agreed to write down what God was teaching her through sickness. Her words have encouraged me so much, especially over the last few weeks; I am so grateful for her willingness to share them here.                                                  
~ post by Katelyn Britton  

As I look back over the past nine months of my first pregnancy, I recognize a few things about myself, about pain, and about the Lord that I hadn’t seen quite so clearly before. In His sovereign wisdom, He allowed me to experience pain like I never had before. Both relational breakdown and extended, intense morning sickness became instructive teachers. I know what it feels like to dwell in pain. But Christ, our comfort, is a very present help in time of need. There is one key, recurring maxim that I’ve learned and am yet learning is:

Life is in God’s control, not mine.

This is a hard pill to swallow, and it takes a daily dose of humility to accept what God may allow. However, it is a truth that must be embraced if one wants to live life well. I think that one of the most encouraging examples of this mindset is seen in the book of Genesis as it describes the life of Joseph. Not only do his brothers attempt to kill him and then sell him into slavery, but he is later falsely accused and thrown into prison! In the end, God exalted him to be in a high position of leadership. Though one might expect to see a bitter heart or a desire for revenge end of his life, instead we read in Genesis 50:19-21 that he said to his brothers (who were fearing for their lives):

“Do not be afraid, for am I in God’s place? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good in order to bring about this present result, to preserve many people alive. So therefore, do not be afraid; I will provide for you and your little ones.” So he comforted them and spoke kindly to them.”

In this passage, we find Joseph completely content to leave the details of his life in the kind hands of his Father. This includes the pain (past, present and future)!  How easy it is to think that if God really loves us then He will certainly spare us from ever needing to endure hard things in life. The often quoted “God doesn’t want our happiness but our holiness” is true in a sense, but I think the better phrase might be, “God wants our holiness to bring about our happiness.” Joseph’s life, though riddled with pain, is one that proclaims the message that God is faithful and good through it all. May we follow Christ through the thorns of life with joy and recognize that they are neither pointless nor unfruitful if we trust the Father to use them!

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope. (Romans 5:3-4)

this far

Grateful for those who grab you by the hand 
and pull you away and pray with you until your fingers stop shaking,
those who show you how Jesus has always provided,
{ with 'enough wisdom, enough strength, more than enough of Himself' }
those who remind you that there is peace in trusting 
an uncertain tomorrow to an unchanging God. 

My soul, remember, remember the One who has brought you this far.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.... For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.'" (Isaiah 43:2-3)