Grace upon Grace

Remember this - had any other condition been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there. - Spurgeon

Grace is in every crack and crevice of my life. It's like water, always finding a way in, always working down deeper into places in my heart I didn't even know were vulnerable. Then as my heart gets cold, the grace expands, cracks me open, and makes more room for grace. And every once in a while I get moments where I can look back and see it in every breath along the way.

I got married later than I thought I would. It wasn't in my timeline to get married at 26. And I almost married the wrong man because I was so desperate to not be single anymore. I chose all the wrong men for me, and stumbled through relationships that pummeled my heart with impermanence.

BUT God chose someone better for me. And God prepared him to be my husband. And God knit our hearts together in miraculous ways that only God can.

I used to beg God for pregnancy. Every month I would weep with the confirmation that once again I did not have life growing in my belly. I read about barren women in the Bible with profound understanding. I got their urgency and desperation. I got their willingness to do whatever it took, even things outside of what God told them to do. It made sense to me. The ache made me bitter. Was God punishing me for some earlier indiscretions in my life? Did he make my body broken just to mess with me and make my marriage harder? Oh, the bitterness of my heart!

BUT God knew there would come a day when I couldn't take care of myself. God knew there would be days when my husband would carry me to bed like a child because I couldn't move. God knew what was coming, and in his mercy didn't give me children.

I was sure with everything in me that we were adopting a beautiful 12 year old girl. I knew she was mine. I prepared her room, and my heart for her imminent arrival. I waited with joy and hope. Then things got complicated. And we heard conflicting stories. And she turned 13, then 14. And we finally had to face to truth, she wasn't coming home. I took her beautiful bed apart and it felt like my heart came apart in big chunks as well. I struggled with the goodness of God. I know that God is sovereign, but I had to preach to myself that God is good. It just didn't make sense! There are too many unanswered questions. There is still the place in my heart that loves a girl I will never meet.

BUT God knows intimately every breath of my life, and has planned them all perfectly for my good because of the great love with which he has loved me. He knows I have questions that may never have answers in my lifetime, but he lets me ask them anyway. He knows how my heart aches for children, and has blessed me with dozens of kids who are so woven into my heart I rejoice in their every triumph, and weep over their broken hearts. And yet I don't have to care for them every moment of every day.

And now I have doctors telling me there is a tumor growing in my neck. It's messing with my nerves, and disrupting blood flow, and generally wreaking havoc. I sat in a room waiting for a woman to deliver bad news to me, and the immediate outpouring of my heart was "Jesus, I trust you." I laid in the MRI tube trying not to panic, and God caused me to remember his attributes, who he is to me, and my heart became so peaceful I was able to sleep. I struggle to swallow and God reminds me of  sweet little boy I know who has trouble swallowing for totally different reasons, and I pray for him. My heart starts to worry about the future, and surgery, and tumor location, and then I hear my voice singing "Great is Thy Faithfulness" without my even thinking to do so.

This is grace upon grace.

God has given me the husband he made for me to comfort, protect, guide, and pray for me. When I am afraid, he reminds me that God is my refuge and strength. When he is afraid, I can remind him that God is good, and sovereign. We're on this road together, hand in hand.

Sweet grace.

In times when my hands are numb, or my legs won't work, I thank God that I don't have babies to hold, or toddlers to chase. When I realized I shouldn't drive in the afternoons, I thanked God that I didn't have kids to pick up from school. My heart still aches for kids in my home, but I am so comforted by God's perfect timing. And my sweet church kids give me hugs on Sundays, and send me emails that they are praying for healing and trust in God for me, and bring laughter to my heart.

Precious grace.

I'm more forgetful than ever right now, but God brings to mind songs I learned as a child that are Bible truth. Scripture I didn't even know I had memorized pops into my head and just the right moments of desperation. Friends text me reminders of God's love and faithfulness right in the midst of my fearfulness. All the added stresses and fears that I pile on my weak heart, God lays on the hearts of sweet friends to take care of for me. Others are bearing burdens for me in real and tangible ways.

Inexplicable grace.

Undeniable grace.

Pervasive grace.

Grace upon grace.

Enough

Two days ago we had an inevitable meeting with our adoption agency. Inevitable in that we spent months praying that this was not the meeting we were going to have. Inevitable in that the lady we met with seemed to have already reached the same conclusion we had, but just wasn't interested in making the first move. This meeting marked the end of our adoption process for our daughter.

We got an email several months ago that should have told us to just give up, run for the hills, stop hoping. Yet, we decided to not make any hasty decisions, to pray before leaping, to let our tempers settle. We waited. And prayed. And knew in our hearts that it was time to walk away. The hanging on of hope was just crushing our hearts. We are broken, and angry, and becoming more so every day. Our daughter has slipped through our hands and we are looking into the abyss hoping we can reach her and pull her back. It is time to stop grasping at the whistling wind of false hope.

Finality lingers in my empty hands.

I keep finding myself standing somewhere, staring into nothing. I'm emptying the dishwasher, then just stop, like someone hit pause on my life, and then eventually I blink and have to look around to remind myself what I was doing. I have no idea how long I stand frozen in time, I'm just lost for a time, then I come back to reality.

There is a depth of loss in my heart that is inexpressible. Sometimes it is just a still pool within me that I avoid looking at because seeing the aching of my soul reflected in it is too much to bear. Sometimes it is tsunami waves covering me with no hope of making the surface before I drown.

I know that my anchor is the hope, the truth, that God is faithful. I know that just as I feel the depths covering me over that he brings me once again to the surface with his breath of life. I know that as my heart starts to harden to stone, he warms it with the light of his truth to get it moving again. I know that my standing before him doesn't change, even when I'm broken on the floor crying.

Questions sit in corners, waiting to be addressed. We stare each other down and agree to let things rest for now. I can't think about the future, I'm having a hard enough time remembering to shower, or eat, or kiss my husband.

Oh my sweet husband. The strongest, kindest man I've ever known, weeping in my arms. As much as my heart aches, it aches so much more because his heart aches. If I could, I would bear the weight of grief for both of us, just so I would never have to clear tears from his perfect face again. I know I couldn't make it through this alone, but I also know I couldn't do this with anyone else. My heart is so intertwined with his that words don't even need to be said. I see the tears quiver on the edge of his eyelashes and I know it all.

And then I am reminded that God loves me infinitely more than all of that. And he is near, indwellingly near, to my broken heart. And that is enough.

LOVE

We got a call about a month ago that sent our emotions reeling. Our daughter is alive, safe, and there is again potential for her to come home. All we had to do is say "yes." And even though I know that she is still my daughter, I was scared. I feel like we've been on a roller coaster for over a year, and I just didn't know if my heart could take one more major climb with the potential for another major drop. I was afraid to hope.

But I know that she is mine. Is there potential to have our hearts broken further? Yep. Even if she does come home there is no promise of reciprocated love. There isn't even a promise that she will be stable enough for us to be able to provide the best care for her. She could be a huge ball of emotion, and hurt, and fear, and regression, and chaos. But I look at her picture and my heart aches with love that is overwhelmingly inexpressible. She is mine. I love her. I may be scared of what me loving her looks like, but that doesn't make my love for her go away.

With shaking hearts and quiet voices we said that we were in. With good reason, people tried to talk us out of this. But she is ours, whatever the cost of comfort, reputation, heartache, security, peace. She is ours, forever and ever.

Then a month passed with conflicting impressions of what we should do. And communication is spotty at best. And we live attached to our phones and computers, waiting to hear anything. Expecting to travel any day. Hoping to travel before her birthday. Knowing it was becoming less likely with each day that ticked by. I try not to be angry with my husband when he looks practically at things and tells me it's a pretty slim chance that we will have her home before her 14th birthday.

Hope feels foolish. It's stepping out into a cloud filled sky trusting that a thin piece of fabric and a couple cords will keep you from being destroyed by gravity.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick... - Prov 13:12

My heart is sick from hoping. I hope that she will come home soon. I hope for a call that it's time to make travel plans. I hope for favor with random bureaucrats who have the ability to tell us we aren't her parents. I hope that decision isn't made arbitrarily. I hope for her heart to be healed. I hope for the chance to be a good mom. I hope to some day tell her how much my heart has ached for her. I hope for a day when she will know I am her momma just as surely as I know she is my baby.

On the good days, my faith is shaky. I know all the right answers, but I hurt, and I doubt, and waves of fear threaten to cover me completely. I know that I love her, not because I chose to but because that's what God made me for. I know that I hope for her to come home not because it's easy, but because God made my heart for this. I now know why God made me with this intense, insane love that just splashes out uncontrollably sometimes. How else could I look at a picture of a beautiful girl and know that she is mine and love her with every ounce of my heart? I know now why I hope for extraordinary, impossible things that others think are foolish. How else could I hope for my daughter to come home with just the slightest bit of shift in that direction? Even as I want to give up on this impossible dream, I cry out for more hope for a miracle. I beg for more faith that God is working out his plan, to give me a future AND hope.

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. - 1 Corinthians 13:13

It's a Psalm 23 Kind of Day

Grief is a hard thing to define. If you've never experienced it you don't get it. People around you grieve at the loss of a loved one, or are broken over infertility, or their marriage has ended: you name it, people are grieving. But if you have never had the aching of your soul as a result of loss you will never get it. You may think that people need to move on. You may be concerned that they have severe mental illness. You may even think that quoting Bible verses (out of context and not from experience) is the answer because then at least you're saying something, and it's from the Bible so it must be good.

Grief can look a lot like depression, anger, anxiety, selfishness, bitterness. And it can turn into those things and more if it's avoided. It is a place of great loneliness, longing for something you will never have. It is a wilderness that tests your faith, that changes the facets of your soul, that adds depth to everything you thought you knew, and takes away a lot of your preconceived notions. It can at times feel like a vast emptiness, and at other times leave you so full of emotion that you are without words to express the weight of your heart. It comes gushing forth, often at inconvenient or embarrassing times. It can lie dormant for a long time, just waiting for your guard to be down so that it can pounce again on the rubble of your heart.

Everything in me cries out, "This is not how it's supposed to be!" While sometimes it feels like the cry of a petulant child seeking a selfish sense of justice, it often is from a heart that knows it was not made to deal with this. I don't know how to deal with the loss of my daughter. Nothing in my previous experience prepared me for loving a child I have never met. Nothing on Earth can explain why my heart chose to love this specific child; why she is ever with me. It doesn't make sense! I know in my heart that she is mine, yet there is no moment in time when I can say, "That's it! That's when she became mine. That's when I knew." She has always been mine, and will always be, even though she may never know it.

But it's exhausting to deal with a broken heart. There is a deep weariness of soul that comes with grief. Most days I get out of bed and trudge through the waist-deep mud of heartache as if it's normal. Some days it is neck-deep or higher and there is a sense of heart drowning. These are the days when I desperately cry out to God for mercy. Come save me! Rescue me from this deep ocean of brokenness!

And God is ever faithful. He brings the healing salve of his Word to my wounded soul. He gives my husband the words to speak life in the desert. He causes others to carry the burden for a while so that I can rest. He reminds me to take refuge in him, to trust him, to let him lead me as the Good Shepherd of my wandering heart. He is always kind, and gentle with the broken pieces of my heart.

May there be a day when I can proclaim with the Psalmist - Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Oh sweet Lord, let it be so!

Be the Church

Marla Taviano, Jen Hatmaker, and many others all in one place is a beautiful thing! This is the last week of the 7 read-along, it is also the week we get roped into Jen Hatmaker's next crazy adventure. I really like that Jen Hatmaker lady, like if we didn't have the whole sisters in Christ thing going for us I think I might be a little creepy. Thankfully we're both part of the Bride, so I can get all excited about her being my sister without it being too weird. That and I have a soft spot in my heart for Texans, so it's all good.

So this week we are invited to collect our thoughts about 7. The main thought I have had throughout the whole read-along is summed up rather nicely by Jen in the Conclusion of her book:

Our life looks like it does because we are the Hatmakers, and God is dealing with us the way He's dealing with us. We have history and sin issues and circumstances and geography that God takes into account as He stakes our place in His kingdom.

You have an entirely different set of factors. I have no idea what this might look like in your life, nor do I want that job. Your story is God's to write, not mine. Some of us are going to live in the suburbs, others downtown. I'm going to garden; you're going to take the subway. We're adopting, you're redistributing, they're downsizing. I use words, you use a hammer. There isn't a list here. There is no stencil we can all trace into our lives in perfect unison. (p. 218)

The life of the Johnson clan on this beautiful Earth will not look like the Hatmakers, or the Tavianos, or any family in our church. We are not made to look like each other, we are made to look Christ, to reflect the glory of God, to shine forth justice in a broken world.

The problem is our sin issues, mine and yours, can lead us to be distracted from this truth. We either cling to the letter of the law (or seeming formula of good books) to the point of becoming extra-Biblical in our living out of life, or we become so dead set of nonconformity that we refuse to hear wise counsel. We see these trends throughout the Bible, God continually laying down the law and people continually distorting it, but we also see these trends in our own hearts if we are honest. Read through the first couple chapters of Romans and you will see both sides addressed; Jews and Romans being opposing archetypes of the church. Whether you want to admit it or not, you are one of them.

So my final thoughts on 7, and input for the future 7 study have to do with those 2 groups, the law-abiders and the non-conformists.

To the law-abiders:

Chill out! This is not a competition to see who can fast the best, or the most. This book was not written as a new covenant Mishnah by which only those who adhere most closely to 7 concept will be made holy. It is not a formula unto salvation. The Hatmakers are not more beloved by God because they have a garden. Take it for what it is: the wise, quirky works of a fellow sojourner. This book should cause you to think, which is good, but it should not cause you to write a whole new handbook of conduct for your life.

The Bible is the authority, within it is all things that pertain to your life and godliness. Jen Hatmaker, David Platt, Francis Chan, John Piper, John MacArthur, Mark Driscoll, Ryan Kelly, insert-favorite-author-teacher-whatever-name-here WILL NOT SAVE YOU. There is only one mediator between God and man, the God/man Christ Jesus. There is only one law giver, the Creator and Sustainer of all things, and our Father. There is only one who reveals to our hearts the words of life, the Holy Spirit. I love you law-abiders, I get you. I like reading Leviticus, that's how weird I am. But seriously, don't read this book if you will lose sight of God. Follow hard after Christ.

To the non-conformists:

Grow up! You have not been released from bondage to be lazy. The shackles of sin have been broken so that you can be doing, loving, walking in Christ. This book may be the kick in the pants you need to realize your "freedom" is really re-bondage. Yes you are set free, but with purpose. As fun as it sounds to just live however I want, using the freedom of salvation as an excuse, I need to live according to the law of loving God most of all and loving my neighbors as myself. This love is not a passive thing, it is a daily walking in Christ, for the glory of the Father, by the power of the Spirit. I can be the most spiritually free person on the planet, but if I don't have that kind of love then I have nothing. And neither do you.

The Bible has a lot about fighting, wrestling, racing, building, pressing on. Jesus didn't say, take off your yoke and lay down, he said take the yoke of the gospel upon yourself. There is work in the kingdom of God, but is the good light work of setting captives free by bringing the good news. Use your hands, use your feet, use your heart. You were made for love and good works. Look at the imperfect lives of those living that out and find encouragement. Feel the stirring in your heart for purpose, and then run with it. I love you non-confromists, I get you. I stick out like a sore thumb in my community of believers. Read this book, and ask God what he wants you to glean from it.

To all of us on both ends of the spectrum:

Let us join forces for the sake of the King! Let us lay down our petty differences, and hold fast to the Author of our faith. Let us hold hands and hearts with our fellow body members, remembering always that Christ is the head. Let us truly do the hard work of justice. Let us love the sweet pouring out of mercy. Let us walk humbly with our God. Let us be the church.