Advent Love

A few weeks ago, we visited a local botanic garden to walk through their festive Christmas lights display. As usual, I took my phone to take as many pictures as I could to save the memories of our evening. In the car, IronMan and I were talking about how pretty the lights were, and he asked me, "Did you see the tree with the broken branch that was wrapped in lights and hanging on?" I didn't recall the tree, so I decided to look through the pictures on my phone. Sure enough, there it was, a beautiful little tree carefully wrapped in colored lights. The broken branch was hanging down, but still attached securely by the strand of lights. As I started to think about what I wanted to share for the final Sunday of Advent, this sweet tree came to mind. The storms of life come, don't they? We all have storms in some form or another. Some are more quiet and easily survivable, but some are debilitating. Some storms might have fierce winds, hail, pounding rain, and tornadoes. Some storms pass quickly, but some might break you to the point of feeling like you are beyond repair. Some storms keep coming and coming.

Some type of storm came against this little tree at the botanic gardens and completely broke one of its branches. Fortunately, the branch was attached by the light. We, as believers, are attached by the Light, and His Light is LOVE. Any storm that comes against us (maybe there is a storm in your life that you created- we are all human after all), the Light of Love will never, ever let you go. You are wrapped in love and held tight. Even if you don't necessarily feel it, no matter what your circumstance (No! Matter! What!), His love secures you. I won't take time right now to list specific circumstances, but we all know and experience different types of grief, pain, loss, doubt, and trauma. Please just know that if you feel broken and abused by life right now, the Light of Love came against darkness, yours, mine, and all the world's, and holds us fast to His heart. He gave everything to secure us in that Love. Remember that, dear hearts, this Christmas, and may the peace of that truth be the Light by which you are held. 

"Your God is present among you, a strong Warrior there to save you. Happy to have you back, He'll calm you with His love and delight you with His songs." Zephaniah 3:17

All is grace...always,
Shanda

Advent Joy

When I shared my thoughts two weeks ago about waiting and advent, I didn't intend to write weekly for this Advent season, but with all of these swirling thoughts, I thought I might put them into words if time afforded me to do so. I knew the theme for Advent today was joy, so I have been ruminating about joy all week. For me, joy has felt elusive. Permeating, deep down in the soul-bones joy has evaded me continually. The moments when I thought there was a breath, and I could hope to let joy sink in, something has always come along to rob me from really feeling it. From my earliest memory on, there have been consistent difficulties (at times tragic) in my life. Please don't misunderstand. There are many, MANY blessings in my life and I am sincerely grateful for each and every one of them, but the hard has still been hard. It's been a long journey, but I have learned a few things along the way, and I am learning still. In the process of growing up and growing older, joy is one of the things I have misconceived and still seek to understand and experience. 

Joy is not dependent upon your life circumstances, the ease of your daily life, your good (or poor) health, who you know, who you are, or what you do for a living. Joy is not dependent on the home you own or the shack you rent. Joy is not dependent on the daily grief you carry, the successes you have, the failures that haunt, the freedoms you possess, or the influence you have. AS A BELIEVER, the source of your joy is founded in Jesus- not what He has or has not blessed you with here on this earth, but in the deep knowing that you are His, you are held, you are loved, and you are SAVED, because years and years ago, God saw fit, in a way we could never humanly explain or understand, to be born right into flesh, into our broken humanity- this holy, ordinary, messy, sorrow-filled, yet beautiful world. I think as human beings we struggle with the emotional aspect of joy. Sure, it can be a feeling, but I think deep-down joy is more. David, the man after God's own heart, struggled with feeling like he'd lost his deep joy. He asked God to return the joy of his salvation. And isn't that really what Jesus, our Emmanuel-God-with-us, came to do? Save us? I think I've had joy wrong all along. I have longed to feel an underlying happy feeling. Life has shaken my always-glass-half-full outlook up harder than I ever knew possible, and I wish I could get a little bit of my naivete' back. I want to feel joy in every facet, or at least hope that is something that is possible. But I don't think this is a reality. I think the truth is that sorrow and joy mingle, and deep joy is something that is both simple and difficult. The bottom line might just be that true joy is as simple as Heaven. Jesus came. We believe. We are graced. We are saved. I think I get so bogged down in all of my daily concerns that I lose sight of this very simple truth, this truth where joy should originate. Paul was tortured and imprisoned, yet he could still sing. He knew there was something more, and he was connected to it. I have lost sight of that something more in the daily grind. Like David, I am asking for the joy of my salvation to be returned to me. I used to have so much awe and wonder about God in my younger days, and that was sweet and beautiful. Now that I am older, and life has been so...well... life-y, I think I am coming to realize there is maturity beyond the wonder. Maybe joy is a choice, after all? Will I choose today to be grateful that a savior came to lavish me with his love and grace to create a bridge to a place I could never travel on my own? Will I let joy permeate my soul because of that truth? Will I let that be the very foundation of my joy and let it have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with my earthly circumstance? You see, I think ADVENT JOY is a spiritual condition of joy, not a circumstantial condition of joy. It is in that truth where I want to find my source of wonder.  

"But the angel reassured them. "Dont' be afraid!" he said. "I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people." Luke 2:10

All is grace...always,
Shanda

Pieces of Peace

If you follow along with Advent, you will be aware that today is the second Sunday of Advent. In practical terms, last week's Advent focus was on HOPE, and this week's focus is on PEACE. I shared a few of my heart stirrings in a blog piece last week, mostly about faith and hanging on even when life slams you, and to encourage you to try to believe that hope could and would spark, because your story and my story is not yet fully written. Hope... when it's hard. Faith... hold fast. 


This coming week, our family will remember my husband's beloved, beautiful mother. Tuesday, December 11th will mark the twenty year anniversary of Mom being ripped from our family on an icy Indiana highway exactly two weeks before Christmas. I have been thinking a lot about peace this week in regard to losing her. We did a much better job of grasping peace twenty years ago, fully surrendering to God's will, even the valley of the shadow of death. The truth is, her death was the catalyst that set into motion a twenty year battle of aching hard after aching hard, and the absence of her wisdom, steady presence, and quite frankly, her over-the-top crazy love for us through the soul-hard journey we have walked has left a wound I doubt will ever fully heal. Death and grief are tricky beasts to manage, and compounded grief is an even more complicated mystery. We go on because we have to. What choice is there? But there is a big difference between moving forward in obligation, and moving forward in thriving life and living. Peace can permeate in the midst of both.

"Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace." (Luke 1:78-79 NLT)

Light in the darkness... Light that will be a guide to the path of peace. Peace about the big things is sometimes easier than experiencing peace in the daily grit of life. We have less control over the big things, and oddly, they can sometimes be easier to surrender. Peace in the dailies that we have much more opportunity to humanly muck up can be tough. My hope for us all is to sense the tangible presence of God with us right here, right now in the midst of the ins and outs, no-matter-what grace, and to experience His peace right along with it. Somehow. Some way. PEACE. There are blushes of it here and there, but peace for me is usually a bit of a roller-coaster. I try to breathe deep. Pray a whole lot. Read as much as I can. Talk it through with those who are a part of my inner world. In my broken-best, peace. Surrender, trust, and hope, no matter how fragile they are, bring a measure of it, and it is that measure I hang on to as I wait, and keep waiting. There will never be pat answers from me here in this space, but another humble soul hammering out her faith journey, perhaps a little too loudly for some, but shouting so others that feel alone know they are not. Life is not a tidy package all wrapped up in a neat little bow. Some would have you think that, but it isn't. It's a humble, glorious, broken, pain-filled, joy-filled, honest, breathtakingly beautiful mess. Peace, dear ones. Jesus came when the world needed it most. Hope in a manger and hope in my heart...and yours. Doesn't that hope bring a little peace along with it, even if there are no answers for our hardest things? Right here believing with you. Hope. Peace. Advent waiting. Trusting, and honoring the best that I can.

Always grace...always,
Shanda

Advent Waiting: Has God Forgotten?

Advent is defined as "the arrival of a notable person, thing, or event." Within church culture, we specifically view the four Sundays before Christmas as Advent. We count down with remembrance and thanksgiving (sometimes with prayer and fasting) for the gift given to all humanity in the person, Jesus Christ. Simply put, He came to save us. The HUGE forever kind of saving was born in the home of humble farm beasts, became God with skin on, and grew up to be... God with us. I must confess that some days, it's easier for me to grasp the great-big-forever-kind of saving from God than the God-with-us saving in the midst of the grit of my own humble life. Big saving? Yes! Daily with-me saving? I am trying.


I have been working hard to prepare our home for the upcoming holidays. Candy canes and twinkle lights adorn our old-fashioned Christmas tree, garland is draped from the banister, and the old antique sled with silver runners, glowing wreath, and worn-out ice-skates is propped on our porch to welcome guests. We have been playing our favorite Christmas songs to bring a festive atmosphere to our days. The other day, my daughter accidentally let a song "slip in" that we usually try to save for just before Christmas, but it gave me pause. Seven simple words sung by a children's choir have been playing over and over in my heart and mind. "We are waiting. We have not forgotten." This. Yes. It is no secret to anyone that knows us that the last several years have been extremely hard for our family. This past year, faith has been rattled to the core. We are waiting. I have fought hard for faith, deliberately, soldier-like. I have felt isolated and lonely, because I know the story of our life is wearing people out. I know, because it is wearing us out, too. We are weary. We have not forgotten in the wait. I know AMAZING stories come from people that have been on the brink. I don't mean any brink. I am talking to-the-bone, I don't know if we will be intact after this kind of brink. But I choose... we choose... FAITH.

When I looked up the definition for advent for this piece, one of the explanations stated that advent is "Christian theology- the coming or second coming of Christ." And there it is. We are waiting. We have not forgotten. We are looking for the coming of Christ right here, right now in this ugly-beautiful mess of life. HAS GOD FORGOTTEN? I know I haven't, but has He? Maybe everything in your life is good right now and things are going smoothly? I am thrilled for you! Soak in the lovely joy of life! But, if you are in the midst of pain, struggle, grief, disbelief, heartache, and you are wondering if God has forgotten, I want to encourage you. I need it myself, too. Please don't give up. I know sometimes things don't make sense, and life might look vastly different than what you pictured, and purpose might be the biggest mystery of all. Please choose to believe that God has not forgotten. Let hope spark, even if just a tiny little spark. You are not alone. Will you choose FAITH alongside me this advent season? As tenderly, carefully, and purposefully as I decorated our home for this season, God, too, has been tenderly, carefully, and purposefully orchestrating our lives. The story isn't finished just yet, dear one. Someday, it will all make sense, but even if it doesn't, I choose to believe that hard-fought for, bloodied, worn, transparent, but still miraculously intact faith, no matter how frayed or fragile, is one of the dearest things to the heart of God, and so are you. 

All is grace...always,

Shanda

Fighting for Faith in God's Silence

It's been a month since my last blog post, and a month since I've truly interacted on social media (with a few exceptions). I wanted to take a few minutes to update you, and give you a tiny peek at a ragamuffin girl hammering out her faith. If you missed my previous post, you can catch up by clicking HERE, but I can quickly bottom line it for you by saying I am in a head-on faith crisis. I've struggled with doubt a few other times in my life, but I have only been down in the trenches... like this... one other time. To be transparent, I didn't handle that time well. It was an ugly, hell-hard time. I decided to "fix" my own life apart from God (this is not a platitude of false humility, trust me), and the end result was utter destruction. The worst part was that answers were in place just up ahead that I couldn't see. Help was coming. But I was at the brink, and I fell off the precipice head first. It was too late, and the answers no longer mattered. This time, I am jaw-set-determined to apply the lessons I learned then to this new crisis, but let me tell you, the "new" thing in this current crisis has me nearly leveled. 

GOD'S SILENCE. 

My personal burden is forty-seven years deep with compounded grief upon grief. I live daily in the consequence and trauma of physical and emotional abuse, unanswered questions, the haunting of my own broken-girl self (probably the result of years of harm done to me in my formative years), shame, tragedy, betrayal, and over two decades of damage done to me and my family within the church (stories for another day). I'm not sure why the immediate crisis unearths all of that old, worn-out pain and makes it new, but sometimes that's the way of it. Shadows stretch long at the end of the day, much bigger than we are or will ever be, and sometimes shadows stretch long across life. That's how I have been feeling lately, stuck in the shadows. The only encouragement I can glean is that in order for there to be shadows... 

THERE MUST BE LIGHT. 

I know things could be worse. I do get that. There are gifts in my life, tremendous gifts. But it doesn't change the fact that it's hard and dark right now, and prayers seem to avail only one thing, silence. I want to note that the only time I view myself as being a victim was when severe damage was being done to me as a child, but I don't live under the blanket of victimization. I am broken and scarred, but I stand as a responsible woman for being who I am in all of the grit and bits of glory. If you are dwelling in the shadows like me, or if you are in complete darkness, there are a few things I would like to share with you. I don't pretend to have answers that I don't have, because the more I learn, the less I know. That's the truth. But I feel that since I have lived this faith crisis out loud without holding back then maybe I need to live some of the fighting I am doing for faith out loud, too.

Your journey with God is your journey with Him. No one else on the planet can live that for you. I am not going to tell you how to fight if you are in a faith crisis or are struggling with doubt, but I am going to tell you to fight and not give up. Some people have a tendency to flee or dump God all together. I get that. In some ways, maybe that would feel easier. I would probably divorce God if I knew how, but I don't know how to shift from belief to unbelief. Even in this present darkness, I have still experienced undeniable touches from God across my journey. I can't dismiss that. I guess giving God up isn't really an option no matter how unfaithful it seems He has been, no matter if He has left us here abandoned and my family unprotected, no matter what He puts us through or allows us to be put through, no matter how crazy-making or insane it feels. I don't know how to jump ship from God... and I don't want to.

WHAT I DO WANT IS FOR HIM TO SHOW UP IN THIS DARKNESS AND OBLITERATE THE SHADOWS WITH HIS LIGHT.

In crisis, many people stop praying. Many people stop seeking. I understand, now more than ever, how that can happen. Sometimes, God doesn't make sense. Sometimes, it feels like God doesn't give a blasted care at all. Sometimes, you have nothing left to even utter one word in prayer. I don't blame anyone for answering God's silence with their own. In a way, maybe it feels like a spiteful reaction to God? You are basically saying that if God won't talk to you, then you won't talk to God; if He really cared about you, your silence might somehow prod his father-like heart and it will get His attention. Maybe your silence will wake God up? I know how hard it is to live with a broken heart, unanswered prayers, and unhealed wounds. Please try hard not to stop praying. I am at a crossroads of faith. It is a crucial, serious time for me and I know it. My IronMan would say keep climbing the mountain no matter how hard it gets. One step at a time, keep climbing and keep trusting. What that looks like for you might look differently from what that looks like for me, but at this soul-crossroads, I know I have to be all-in. I have to know in my whole being that I have pressed hard against God's silence, so that if He doesn't speak or lead or move or answer on our behalf, it isn't because I didn't ask or plead or lay it at His feet. 

In my broken-best, I pray unceasingly. I am looking to God and waiting for Him to make Himself known in our circumstances. I have cried tears of sorrow from the depths of my diaphragm until my sides ached and I have collapsed on the floor. I have nearly pulled my hair out from the roots, desperate anguish turned into scream-prayers, because there was nowhere else for the emotion to go. I have prayed and pleaded with God for His mercy to move on our behalf, to let us know He is here with us, that we are not alone, and He hasn't truly abandoned us. Sometimes, I don't have words and I just pray under my breath or in my heart, "Lord, have mercy on us. Please have mercy." Sometimes, all I can get out is, "Help." There was a time in my life that I would have believed in my soul-bones that if a child of God called out "Help" in true dependence on Him that He wouldn't be able to resist that heart, and an answer or a touch would come. Even if it wasn't exactly what was expected or asked, it would be known that God was present. I pray unceasingly, unswervingly, honestly, imperfectly, but I pray. I fall asleep praying and wake up praying. I will not let the verse haunt me that we don't have because we didn't ask. 

I have been reading as many things as I can get my hands on about grief, hardship, trials, difficulty, God's faithfulness, darkness, sorrow, and pain in search of encouragement. Please, please hear me. At least 90% of the writers I have come across associate some form of personal trials with your own personal failures. If you need that reprimand or jolt to get you back on track, that's understandable, but it has been little help to me trying to make sense of what God is and has been doing in my life and my family's life. What the majority of authors leave out is pain for the sheer sake of pain. Brokenness for the sheer sake of brokenness. Yes, you can be in pain and have done absolutely nothing yourself to cause or invite that pain. Yes, you can be suffering, and your suffering might not be a consequence of a specific action. I was shocked and taken aback that there wasn't more encouragement for those journeying with Jesus in the accompaniment of suffering. Jesus himself said, "In this world you will have trouble." Why do we tend to ignore this? It is our own humanity that we assume personal suffering must have a personal action or inaction related to it. Somehow, this must be my fault, right? Hear me. It isn't always so, dear ones. It isn't always so. I actually had to give myself permission to stop reading a few books and blogs for now. After we are through this, I might be able to return to those things, but it isn't for this season, and it's okay. 

This time in my life has made me feel extremely isolated, and the decision to step back from social media has, undoubtedly, intensified that feeling. However, that feeling of isolation has caused me to press in even deeper to finding evidence of God somewhere in the midst of our everyday and in the midst of our need. Honestly, I DON'T WANT ANYTHING BUT GOD. It is Him alone that I/we need to hear from. It is the only way we can be sure to remove human influence, and He is the only one that truly knows our hearts and the intricacies of our circumstances. I read my Bible every single day. Every. Single. Day. Searching, hoping, seeking. I usually try to read until something applies or I can relate to it. Some days it is like trudging through sludge, but some days there is a nugget or truth that keeps me hanging on. 

A CONNECTION TO THE "WORD" IS NOT YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD.

Yes, reading the Bible brings truth, encouragement, knowledge, wisdom, and sometimes discipline, but reading the Bible is not your God-connection. It shows you HOW to have a God-connection just like David, Paul, Peter, Jeremiah, Elijah, Mary Magdalene, Anna, Martha and countless others. I need a real God-connection. My family needs a real-God connection. We need action and protection on our behalf, and if what we are praying for doesn't happen, then we need God to come in either the "whisper" or the "wind" and let us know He is with us and somehow, some way, it's going to be okay.  

The lesson I learned the very hard way through my prior deeper-than-deep faith crisis many years ago is that the answer might be just around the corner. I want desperately to BELIEVE that is true. I do feel close to the brink, but I am holding fast and waiting.

WE NEED GOD'S LIGHT. 

WE NEED GOD'S PROTECTION. 

WE NEED GOD'S ACTION. 

WE NEED GOD'S MERCY.




I am longing to feel His tenderness wash over me like waves gently sweeping across the sandy beach. I am here still believing even if I don't "feel" it, and I want to encourage you not to give up, either. There will be no attempted explanations or platitudes from me for the hard you are experiencing. Hopefully, just encouragement for you to know there is someone else who hasn't given up. Just. Like. You.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it." (John 1:5 NLT)

God is Not Faithful! (dot... dot...dot...)

This is the one. This is the post where some of you will stop reading/listening to what I have to say. Believe me. I know it is a generous grace that you have read/heard my thoughts at all through the years, and for that, I am truly grateful. But this post is going to be different. I would guess that 95% of you might not be able to relate, and for that, too, I am grateful. It means you don't know or experientially understand the perpetual pain from which a piece like this is born. Your life is probably vastly different from mine, and that is okay, but I have to write this for the other 5% that need to know they are not alone, that are barely hanging on by tattered faith, and have no idea where God is in all of this mess. I know the risk. I have had this post in some type of written form in my blog dock to share for over a year, but fear kept restraining me from posting, because I know human nature, and I know the nature of very human Christians. Some of you will chuck me, and I am just going to have to be okay with that. To bury this journey is to bury part of me. The drive to share has become far more pressing than these haunting thoughts:

NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO READ ANOTHER THING YOU WRITE, EVER, IF YOU PUT THIS OUT THERE!

SOME THINGS MIGHT JUST BE TOO RAW FOR SHARING.

SAYING CERTAIN THINGS MIGHT DAMAGE THE TRUST OTHERS HAVE IN YOU, ALONG WITH THE GUIDANCE YOU OFFER IF YOU SAY THEM ALOUD.

REGARDLESS OF MY FEARS, BRACE YOURSELF. 

I AM WRITING FOR THE 5%. 

GOD, HAVE MERCY.

I am going to have an out-loud faith crisis right here, right now. I will do my level best for this not to be a rant, because it is so much more than that. 

Endless sorrows. 
Years of suffering. 
Out-of-the-blue derailing.
Unanswered prayers.
A silent God.

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. 

I knew this was coming to a head. I have been feeling it for a while. I feel it now. I sense that I am at a spiritual crossroads, and the battle at the crossroads has become more fierce than ever to STAY ON THE FAITH-ROAD. 

"We have had our fill..."

Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes. There are limits. Human limits.

I am tired of being ground into dust and our family never getting the chance to come up for air for a real, tried-and-true breath where oxygen can fill spiritual lungs and finger out into peace where there is rest (even if only for a minute or two), and dare I say it, we can experience JOY. But everything is tainted. Strings are attached everywhere. Strings strangle, and we are dying here.

I am tired of our family having to experience these things so that we know this kind of to-the-bone suffering. Why were we chosen to have to live this? Is it solely to encourage others? It is so difficult to abide by that anymore. It seems that every single time it looks like there will be a breakthrough, we are slammed backwards even further than when hope was stirred, and dashed hope is then added to the long years of grief. When will the suffering "bucket" be full so we can move on from this? IronMan and I were both given deep-feeling hearts and he was given deep-seeing spiritual eyes, but we are tired and so very exhausted. I get it, though. Rare, God-gifted truths come from my IronMan, even if it's just to a handful of others, but he is weary, and we are weary, and I don't know if we want to be or can be *THOSE messengers anymore. Elijah ended up collapsed by a tree, and an angel brought him a jar of water and fresh baked bread. The angel also PROTECTED Elijah so he could rest "enough" for the next part of his journey (see 1 Kings 19). God gave Elijah what he needed to continue on. His needs were met. Our needs are not being met, and we are in dire need of bread, a jar of water, and protected rest. I wonder if we will ever be able to become the messengers of breakthrough and hope and joy? I want to be the one to tell others that God will INDEED show up right spot in the middle of your circumstances if you trust Him. Yes, you can count on Him, no matter what. I want to be THAT messenger, not the messenger that struggles to believe God is a promise-keeper, John-didn't-get-out-of-prison, Stephen-was-stoned, and I don't know for sure if God really is a LOVING FATHER after all. 

There is no platitude I want to hear. Trust me. I know them all. It doesn't help. I used to use them years ago myself to encourage others before I truly understood. Forgive me if you were a recipient. They are empty words. Bless you, but if you are a fellow believer and you don't know deep suffering, please, please do not be offended, because I mean no offense, truly, but I don't care what you have to say. I care about your heart and that you *want to say something, but you have no idea what you are saying or speaking into someone else's life if you don't personally walk with a "limp," if you haven't been damaged, experienced deep grief, or been accompanied by sorrow. I have thought this for a while, and I am becoming more and more convinced that on this God-journey of leading people spiritually, it is NOT a seminary degree that qualifies you (yes, I do know this is important), or years of climbing the modern church infrastructural ladder, but your own brokenness and suffering. Pain qualifies you. The human experience qualifies you. ALL surrendered in deep trust to a Holy God qualifies you, but I worry we won't survive this "all surrendered" with faith intact.

When thinking of other people (maybe even close family or friends), we need to put blinders on and keep them on, because looking at how God has seemingly been a companion to others can add to the sorrow. So many give God honor and thanks for the many blessings they have in their lives, while some of us ruthless God-trusters might start to wonder what in the world is wrong with us, and why is God treating us differently. Sometimes, there are no answers or explanations. Other people might even begin to make us feel like something is wrong with us. Unintentionally, people do subtle things to make you feel lower than they are, and it is so very hard. The truth is, perpetual sorrow and suffering can isolate you. If you are sensitive, it undoubtedly will isolate you. This is a lonely journey, and I am sorry for you...I am sorry for us. 😔 IronMan and I have been married for 27 years, but the last 19 years have been mauled by nightmare after nightmare, desert after desert, utter ruins after utter ruins. Before that, the first 18 years of my life were mostly hell-on-earth, as well. Currently, faith is stuck on that rickety bridge, belief seems to be the elusive bank on the other side, and our hope is enervated. Our struggle has been years long with pain on top of pain on top of pain on top of pain, and no real resolve, relief, or breath from any of it. We are drowning in compounded grief. I understand the dark night of the soul, and why one might need to experience the utter depths of that darkness, but 19 years back and forth in that torment... it feels like too much. I know there are people that have been to the very pit of hell, their hearts have been fully rent, and they still stand to say that "God is faithful." I honor that, and I honor them. I truly do. Each person is different, and it isn't for me to judge the depths of their grief or their journey. There will always be someone who is in circumstances far worse, and there will always be someone who is in circumstances far better, but all is felt as anguish. It is not for us to qualify or quantify suffering. We need blinders for suffering as well as blessing. This is about my personal journey with God and your personal journey with God, not someone else's.  I want to say that God is faithful...that He has been faithful to us. I really do want to say that in truth. I feel strongly that it does not matter whether God pulls through or has pulled through for someone else. Honestly, I find little encouragement from their stories anymore. It's truth for me right now, because whether or not God came through for them doesn't matter. WE NEED GOD TO COME THROUGH FOR *US. If you are reading this and your heart resonates, I know it matters little whether or not God pulls through for me or my family, because YOU NEED GOD TO COME THROUGH FOR YOU.

Yes, it is as the 123rd Psalmist said... 

"Have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy, for we have had our fill..."

This ache... This lonely, terrifying ache of these thoughts walks me back and forth across this rickety bridge between failed faith, and hanging on. I might fall through the ragged boards all the way through to my death below if I don't get this hammered out and get across this bridge to actual safe ground. What if we are John and we don't get out of prison? I can scarcely breathe thinking that our circumstance might not change. John sent word to Jesus from prison questioning if he, indeed, was the "one." Jesus told his disciples to report to John, "The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor." (see Matthew 11) Jesus had the power to do all of that, but surely John had to wonder if Jesus was going to use that same power to free him from prison. I'll bet Ol' John might have been looking for the sparkle in Jesus' eyes to appear through the bars of his dank prison cell right up to the moment the blade was drawn to take his head. Did he, too, wonder if God was faithful? Because God is always faithful, right? I feel like I want to drive a stake right through this fragile truth, claim it sure and strong, and declare that this, somehow, is what His faithfulness looks like, because if it isn't, then what in the love of all things holy is it? If it is true that God is always faithful, then this mess that I am left here to stand up underneath must somehow have God's stamp of faithfulness on it. Sigh. But life. Oh Life. How you plow us deep and abandon us as hard clods in a desolate field, and we are left struggling to FIND God's faithfulness instead of God FINDING and SHOWING us that He simply is.

What happens to us when life breaks hearts at the deepest of levels, and mars faith down deep in soul-hollows, when WHO you believed God to be becomes shattered by your personal experience? I know you might be shaking your head at that. But in this walking with God business, let me tell you, your PERSONAL EXPERIENCE with the God of Jesus Christ IS this walk. Maybe I am not seeing clearly? Maybe this shattered circumstance is what it’s actually all about, so that we will press in deeper, harder, unrelenting until He shows us Himself and WHO He really is among these faith shards.

He, as sure as I am writing these words, isn't who I thought He would be and what this journey would look like. 

WHO ARE YOU, GOD? 

ARE YOU FAITHFUL, OR NOT?

BUT WOW...

When you wake up to this and realize that IT'S OKAY TO ASK THAT QUESTION, & THAT MAYBE GOD WANTS YOU TO STARE RIGHT INTO THE BLOODY FACE OF IT, because when you have that deep of a wondering about God from being left in a life-heap, you might finally be getting down to the heart of the matter.

I realize that to a lot of faith people, my words are dangerous. It is far easier to dismiss me, and cling rigidly to your beliefs without trying to feel what other Jesus-lovers feel, especially in the midst of soul-destruction. If you are relating to any of this, you already know this is a soul-lonely journey, and even your closest friends and family may not "get" you or this. It is far too easy to leave broken, hurting, aching, wondering people in the dust when you simply don't understand. Brokenness can be scary, and questions are scary, because no one wants others to know what they might think deep down and openness is too raw, vulnerable, and revealing. BUT QUESTIONS ARE NOT FAITHLESS, AND BROKENNESS IS NOT LESS-THAN. 

We are not fair weather followers. We have staked our life on a few principles:

"Trust the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take." (Proverbs 3:5-6)

"Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." (Matthew 6:33)

"You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you..." (2 Chronicles 20:17)

These are just the tip of the iceberg, but they begin to express our hearts and our belief that if you TRUST GOD... SOMETIMES RUTHLESSLY... HE WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU. We are not fainthearted God trusters. WE ARE FULL-DEPENDERS. We are probably even a little bit crazy how we keep getting back up again and finding a way to keep trusting. We actually believe that if we seek Him, He will speak, and if we wait, He will direct. Apparently, that sometimes gets you stuck in the muck, or even just about dead! If God is who we believe He is, then where is He? If God isn't who we believe He is, then we have spent our whole lives pouring out, leading others to Him and His fierce love and grace, and teaching them the same; if you seek, He will lead, and He will provide. We have God's undeniable fingerprints dotted across our journey, but when you are standing on the bridge with rotten, creaky boards and the bottom is about to fall out, you are begging your Father for help, guidance, direction, provision, and a way, any way, off the dangerous bridge, but He is silent and withholds his helping hand, what are you supposed to believe and what are you supposed to do?

WRESTLE.

Would God have you accept crushing life without question, or would He rather have real, authentic lovers of Jesus wrestling in the ashes, pressing into Him for real assurance, even if there were no unequivocal answers? Muster up one last bit of something from these shards we are left with and find a way. Slam your fists on the table and scream from the soul-depths. I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE ABANDONED US, even if every last evidence points to the fact that He has. Jesus felt like His Father had abandoned Him, too, so I guess we are in good company. I know we have entered this particular wrestling match already injured and limping. The fact is, we have crawled, scratched and clawed our way with bloody fingers and scraped raw knees, but if I have to concede this fight with whomever or whatever I am fighting, that means I have to concede everything I have ever believed and trusted. Sure, faith is rattled to the very core of who I am right now, but I am not going down without this one last fight, without this one last open-handed offering with bloody hands giving every last bit of me. I will fight to the brink of death if I have to. I AM HOLDING ON AND I AM NOT LETTING GO. I am begging God for a Jacob-type breakthrough. 

A BREAKTHROUGH. 

A CHANGE IN OUR CIRCUMSTANCES.

If we lose this fight, it feels like all will be lost, but what choice do we have? Either God is who he says He is, or He isn't. God is either fully faithful and trustworthy, or He isn't. It seems to me the only choice I have is to put this all on God. It is God's own reputation that is at stake. He can choose to do what He wants to do with that. He is responsible for the truth of His reputation, even if it is just to me and my humble little family. We have given Him all of our trust. He either is or He isn't faithful... and it is time, Father, to get the Sargent family to the bank and off this rickety bridge.

God, have mercy...


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His Eye is on the Sparrow, but Not Mine!

When we moved into our home in 2015, there was a clothes line in the backyard that we wanted to remove. One of the T-poles was wood, and came out of the ground easily. The other T-pole was steel and set in a large amount of concrete. There was no way we were going to be able to easily remove the pole, so I embraced it. I painted it red, did a little bit of modest landscaping around it, and (my favorite thing) I hung a birdhouse that a friend made for us as a housewarming gift. I was looking forward to the possibility of enjoying birds in our own yard. The first spring, we didn't have any feathered visitors claim our little white birdhouse as their own, but early the next spring, to our surprise, black capped chickadees came. When they were finished raising their sweet young, equally to our delight, little wrens came. The next spring followed the same pattern. First the chickadees came, raised their babies, and then the wrens came again, as well. This spring, we were looking forward to the return of our two sweet songbird families, but strange chaos was about to destroy the concept of our little bird nursery.

Mr. Woodpecker was the first to come. He did a thorough job of pecking around the entrance hole of the birdhouse making it bigger than it should be to keep the tiny wren family safe from predators. Not long after Mr. Woodpecker decided the little white birdhouse wasn't up to his expectations, a bluebird couple came and argued with the returning chickadees wanting rights to nest in the space. To both of the bird couples' dismay, house sparrows came on the scene bargaining for the space, as well. The three bird couples flitted about, sang accusatory songs, and chased each other off until the house sparrow couple finally won early spring nesting rights to the house.

I felt frustrated that it was common sparrows, not my beloved chickadees or bluebirds that were building a nest, but then I was reminded that the sparrow is the lowliest of birds, and they needed a home, too. I tried to make my peace with it. 

SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE CARE OF THE SPARROWS, RIGHT?

"What is the price of two sparrows- one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it." Matthew 10:29 (NLT)

We have a heart for ragamuffins and those broken by life. Who better to take care of the lowly sparrows than us? Though disappointed, I tried to let the heart of what was happening soak in. I went the extra step and hung a bird feeder on the crossbar opposite of the little white birdhouse. I would make it as easy as possible for the sparrows to thrive until they flew away after raising their young, but... 

THEY NEVER LEFT THE NEST! THEY NEVER FLEW AWAY!

I started to become worried about what would happen when the little wrens came if they found their home occupied. The chickadees and wrens shared the space together in perfect harmony, but the sparrows stayed... and stayed... and stayed. They wore out their welcome.

The wrens did, indeed, return about two weeks ago. They flitted around the clothes line pole singing concerns to each other about their hijacked home. They finally gave up, and I thought they would be gone for good. By now, It was an all out struggle for me to embrace what seemed like lazy sparrows taking over our beloved birdhouse and just camping out because it was easy, yet the words of the old hymn swirled around my head and heart and brought nothing but guilt.

"I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free, for his eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me." (Civilla D. Martin) 

Ugh! What an internal battle I was in about these sparrows! 

To my surprise, the wrens came back and discovered that we had an uninhabited birdhouse hanging on our patio. It was a perfect little wren house with a small entrance for their protection. Satisfied, Mommy and Daddy Wren began to build a nest in the little red birdhouse. I was thrilled that the wrens came back and found a safe place to call their own. They busied themselves, driven to build their nest, and my heart finally rested over this crazy bird dilemma. 

Two days after fervent nest building, the house sparrows did something that changed my perspective forever. I had just returned from taking my daughter to work, and heard constant angry chirping coming from our patio. I opened the blinds on our sliding glass door to find the oversized male and female sparrow (no doubt fattened from their hearty food supply) tag-teaming against the sweet little wrens. The bully birds were actually attacking the wrens and fly-diving at them to chase them away. Those fat sparrows wouldn't have been able to fit in the little red birdhouse if they tried. I angrily chased the sparrows away at least thirty times only to have them return quickly with their antagonistic tones spewing bitterness at the sweet little wrens. I decided that it was long past time to consult Google to figure out what might be going on with these sparrows.

The following is from Pest Management Professional.

"House sparrows have since become a common pest bird that lives in close association with humans, greatly depending upon them for food and nesting sites. The birds are associated with the transmission of more than 25 diseases of humans and domestic animals... House sparrow feces deface and foul structures, park benches, outdoor lunch tables, statues and stair railings, and contaminate walkways around buildings. Their uric acid droppings can even damage automobile paint. House sparrow nests often clog roof drains, plug gutters and downspouts, and cause roof leaks. Their bulky nests made of grass, straw, feathers, hair, weeds and other dried plant materials, strings and other miscellaneous flammable trash are serious fire hazards—especially when nests are located in electrical equipment, light fixtures, around power lines and electrical substations. House sparrows are opportunistic, quarrelsome, aggressive, persistent, relentless and pugnacious competitors, and they’ll frequently out-compete, drive out and displace desirable native songbirds.Bird houses that are placed out to accommodate songbirds are often usurped by house sparrows."

I was shocked! House sparrows are flat out evil! I told IronMan all that I had learned about the house sparrows and he did a little bit of research on his own. He learned that a house sparrow will raise 3-5 broods a season. No wonder they didn't leave the white birdhouse! They were multiplying right under our noses. He also said that if you try to remove their nest, they will attack and kill any area songbirds out of spiteful vengeance before they leave the area. The wrens wisely left and never returned the morning I tried to chase the sparrows away from the little red birdhouse. Maybe this way they have found a safe place to nest and they will ultimately be protected from these bully sparrows?

I feel like I was naive to allow the house sparrows to come and stay. I ignored my own reservations, and made it as convenient as possible for them. I even provided for them by feeding them choice birdseed. It was easy for evil to come and camp out, rest (does evil ever rest?), and stay awhile, and I was completely unaware. Evil seeps in slow moving and desensitizes us until we are okay with it. Its steadily growing roots finger down until its grip is fierce, it's either too late, or it becomes a GREAT BIG deal to get rid of after causing untold damage. I am awake to this now, and it is my responsibility to stay aware of other ways evil much worse than sparrows may be creeping in. I am known for championing grace, and I don't often talk about this, but if you are allowing things in your life and your family's life that you know shouldn't be there, wake up! Don't be naive. Take care of things before they take root. This is truth. We have a very real enemy that seeks to destroy us in any way that he can. I am not an alarmist or a person that thinks there is a demon around every bush, but I have also lived a little, and I can tell you that this is real, and attack seldom shows up like a loud parade at your door. I thought it was a good thing that I was going to take care of these house sparrows, but allowing them to stay did nothing but destroy the good.

"Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour." 1 Peter 5:8 (ESV)

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." John 10:10 (ESV)

I HAVE DECIDED THAT IF GOD'S EYE IS ON THE SPARROW, THAT'S OKAY. GOD, HIMSELF, CAN TAKE CARE OF THEM! I'M OUT. 😉

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