One Step at a Time

Sometimes, from within our own perspective, it is hard to see the wood for the trees. We become discouraged and restless, sure that our problems will remain problems and that the way we are today is the way we will always be. From within our own subjective space, we can fail to see the progress we are making. We still feel the symptoms of fear and discomfort so we don't recognise that they are becoming fewer and further apart. We don't see the steps we have taken toward freedom, the ground that we are gaining day by day.

One certainty we have in the Lord is this: when we made the choice to invite Christ into our life, something miraculous took place. Something invisible, something spiritual. We were translated from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. Where we once were on a downward path, spiralling deeper into our sins and ignorance, we have now been miraculously transported to a different trajectory. We are not travelling toward death anymore, but life. Instead of despair, we are walking into hope and as such, we are assured that our future is a safe place. A place of redemption, restoration and recovery.

Even the painful experiences become a 'good pain' when we commit them to Him and choose to trust His words. Rather than bringing destruction, they offer an invitation to partake more deeply of our Heavenly Father's love and healing grace. In effect, even in our stumbling, we are still moving forward, onward and upward toward the light of a new day.

Christ is not confined to time as we are. God revealed himself to Moses as 'I am.' He continues to reveal Himself as a present God, always accessible, always with us. Able to transform our past with His healing revelation. Able to promise His presence in each of our tomorrows. And always present in each moment. In every heartbeat, every breath, as long as we shall live.

'But the path of the just is like the shining sun, That shines ever brighter unto the perfect day.'

Proverbs 4:18

He's Got This

'It's not your story. It's mine.'

These were the words that drifted down quietly from a bright blue afternoon sky as I sat reading on my back deck. The hum of a light aircraft overhead brought with it the comfort of the familiar. Of other warm, pre-summer days spent lazing and reading and hearing from God.

Behind the fence of our tiny strip of backyard grows a massive Elm tree. It's grandeur dominates the simplicity of our plain-grass-and-a-few-shrubs lawn. I watch it unconsciously throughout the year. Monitor its change from season to season. Always being surprised to find it in a different state the when I left it. This particular afternoon I wonder, when did it sprout that dense layer of vibrant foliage? I can see Summer in its wings and wonder how I never noticed until today. Last I remember it was a stretch of bare limbs against a grey sky. Now it holds all the promise of the warm season. All the regularity that I somehow, faintly understand, points back to the faithfulness of our Creator.

I'm recovering from a state of stress that had me in tears. How long will it take me to learn this lesson, I wonder? To wade through this dark night of the soul. And then, like the quiet puncture of the first evening star, come the words. Gentle but steady.
'It's not your story, its mine.'
This life of mine that I keep clutching and trying to control. It's His story. And He writes it in the language of redemption. Why do I always forget this? Why does it take the dam breaking, the bubble bursting?
This clutching business. This worrying and fretting. It needs to end.
Slowly, I think I am coming to understand.

'And He is before all things and in Him all things consist.'

Colossians 1:17

False Truth

I have questions that burn holes in my mind and my heart. Painful, angst-ridden questions that seem to come straight from the mouth of the child-version of myself living within. Throughout my journey, these questions war with my certainty and quietly wrestle Truth. They seem unquenchable in their hunger. Why did that happen? Is God really just? Does He truly care for me? Like molten metal they burn their painful holes through my life, leaving charred reminders of lessons-wrongly-learned that never seem to elude me.

What do I mean by lessons-wrongly-learned?

I mean those significant moments in life where the innermost questions of our being are (seemingly) answered with a truth unbearable and then all of life seems to confirm the reality. Questions surrounding our worth, the justice of God, our dreams and hopes.
Life deals a blow and we accept it as an answer. A proof that we are not good enough, that God does not truly care. That life will never be what we dream it to be.

The trauma inflicted by believing these false-truths can be ongoing. We can even know we are believing a lie but still, our mind, our memories and our emotions tug at our sense of truth. It must be true! We tell ourselves, or why else did this happen? I often wonder how much of my suffering is a result of believing a lie.

These days I am learning to recognise the heavy drag of a false-truth within. Lies deplete and they bind. They steal your energy, your hope and your worth. The truth, on the other hand, sets free. It is spirit and as such it is life-giving, hope-installing and redemptive in nature.

Sometimes the truth is quiet as a whisper. Sometimes it comes freely as a breeze, blowing away the lies. Other times it must be fought for and clung to like a life-raft on a storm-tossed sea.

'Show me Your ways, O Lord;

Teach me Your paths.

Lead me in Your truth and teach me,

For You are the God of my salvation;

On You I wait all the day.'

Psalm 25:4,5

Uncertainty vs Certainty

Recently, I had a discussion with my eight year old daughter as she lay in bed, ready to go to sleep. It had been a long day and I didn't anticipate that a simple tuck-in would turn into a long discussion on the things that were troubling her. She is an incredibly artistic child and my husband and I have watched as her creative gifts have blossomed over the years. However, this wonderful gift of imagination and intuition means that sometimes my daughter's thoughts run awry. She is able to dream up terrifying monsters and scenarios in her little head as she lies in bed at night. 'What-if?' is a question that sometimes inspires her but at other times worries her and she has the ability to think very deeply on issues surrounding her friends, their personalities and the conflicts that are so very troublesome when you are eight years old and learning how to live and relate to those around you.

As we talked, it began to dawn on me that my daughter and I are not so different in the way that we think. Like her, I delve deeply (often too deeply) into the thoughts and intentions of others toward me. I ask questions of what-if that leave my mouth dry and my knees shaking (there seems to be a never-ending supply of these questions at every turn of life). I feel the need to know everything and be assured of the outcome of issues that need time rather than thought to work out. Of course, I'm not afraid of monsters or my friends telling lies about me, but the questions behind both my daughter and my worries are essentially the same; 'What if things aren't ok? What if I'm not safe and things go wrong for me? How will I deal with those things that I can't control?'
We do not like uncertainty!

Through our discussion, I could see so clearly that it is not God's will for us to turn things over and over in our mind, trying to manufacture answers to things we cannot possibly know yet. Uncertainty is a part of life. For personalities like my daughters and mine, uncertainty is particularly terrifying, and yet it has the potential to lead us into a much more intimate walk with the Lord. As I sat on my daughter's bed, I knew that God was with my daughter, loving her and wanting her to rest her little mind in His protection. He wanted her to put her confidence in the reality that He would be with her as she faced her friends. That His loving arms were around her as she slept and He would be her confidence and her foothold as she faced whatever uncertainty was ahead of her.

The answer to my grown-up fears is no different. God is going with me as I get up each day. He will be journeying with me into every tomorrow for the rest of my life. Not only does He travel with me, but He promises to deliver me from my fears, to work all things together for good and to complete the work of Christ within me.

Knowing the answers to everything that lies ahead is a temptation that drives much of my thinking and yet God doesn't ask me to figure things out. He asks me to trust Him. No matter what comes my way, His presence, grace and good will toward me are a certainty and something that I can rest in.

'You have hedged me behind and before,

And laid Your hand upon me....

Where can I go from Your Spirit?

Or where can I flee from Your presence?

If I ascend into heaven, You are there;

If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.

If I take the wings of the morning,

And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there Your hand shall lead me,

And Your right hand shall hold me.'

Psalm 139:5, 7-10