God is Not Faithful... Two Years Later, and a Little Hope

Two years ago, I wrote the single most difficult piece (to date) that I have publicly shared on my humble little blog. A year after writing that heart-rending piece, I also shared a one year update. Both of those pieces can be read HERE and HERE. I wasn't sure if I would revisit "God is Not Faithful" again, but this past week I felt led to share something that I came across that might be a tiny bit of an encouragement to those still fighting for faith in the trenches. Since the anniversary of posting the two original pieces just passed, I sensed it (humbly) as a confirmation. This is going to be a very different piece from what I normally share. I want you to read the scripture for yourself and glean what God might stir in your heart. I will share a few of my own thoughts at the end.

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Last week, my daily Bible reading had me in the book of Lamentations. I am not going to "cherry pick" here. I want you to be able to read the entire chapter as a whole. Some of the trauma the author experiences might be relatable to you, and some of it might not. We all walk different journeys, so I felt it important to include the chapter fully intact here. 

LAMENTATIONS 3 (New Living Translation)

I am the one who has seen the afflictions

    that come from the rod of the Lord’s anger.
2 He has led me into darkness,
    shutting out all light.
3 He has turned his hand against me
    again and again, all day long.

4 He has made my skin and flesh grow old.
    He has broken my bones.
5 He has besieged and surrounded me
    with anguish and distress.
6 He has buried me in a dark place,
    like those long dead.

7 He has walled me in, and I cannot escape.
    He has bound me in heavy chains.
8 And though I cry and shout,
    he has shut out my prayers.
9 He has blocked my way with a high stone wall;
    he has made my road crooked.

10 He has hidden like a bear or a lion,
    waiting to attack me.
11 He has dragged me off the path and torn me in pieces,
    leaving me helpless and devastated.
12 He has drawn his bow
    and made me the target for his arrows.

13 He shot his arrows
    deep into my heart.
14 My own people laugh at me.
    All day long they sing their mocking songs.
15 He has filled me with bitterness
    and given me a bitter cup of sorrow to drink.

16 He has made me chew on gravel.
    He has rolled me in the dust.
17 Peace has been stripped away,
    and I have forgotten what prosperity is.
18 I cry out, “My splendor is gone!
    Everything I had hoped for from the Lord is lost!”

19 The thought of my suffering and homelessness
    is bitter beyond words.[a]
20 I will never forget this awful time,
    as I grieve over my loss.
21 Yet I still dare to hope
    when I remember this:

22 The faithful love of the Lord never ends![b]
    His mercies never cease.
23 Great is his faithfulness;
    his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
    therefore, I will hope in him!”

25 The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
    to those who search for him.
26 So it is good to wait quietly
    for salvation from the Lord.
27 And it is good for people to submit at an early age
    to the yoke of his discipline:

28 Let them sit alone in silence
    beneath the Lord’s demands.
29 Let them lie face down in the dust,
    for there may be hope at last.
30 Let them turn the other cheek to those who strike them
    and accept the insults of their enemies.

31 For no one is abandoned
    by the Lord forever.
32 Though he brings grief, he also shows compassion
    because of the greatness of his unfailing love.
33 For he does not enjoy hurting people
    or causing them sorrow.

34 If people crush underfoot
    all the prisoners of the land,
35 if they deprive others of their rights
    in defiance of the Most High,
36 if they twist justice in the courts—
    doesn’t the Lord see all these things?

37 Who can command things to happen
    without the Lord’s permission?
38 Does not the Most High
    send both calamity and good?
39 Then why should we, mere humans, complain
    when we are punished for our sins?

40 Instead, let us test and examine our ways.
    Let us turn back to the Lord.
41 Let us lift our hearts and hands
    to God in heaven and say,
42 “We have sinned and rebelled,
    and you have not forgiven us.

43 “You have engulfed us with your anger, chased us down,
    and slaughtered us without mercy.
44 You have hidden yourself in a cloud
    so our prayers cannot reach you.
45 You have discarded us as refuse and garbage
    among the nations.

46 “All our enemies
    have spoken out against us.
47 We are filled with fear,
    for we are trapped, devastated, and ruined.”
48 Tears stream from my eyes
    because of the destruction of my people!

49 My tears flow endlessly;
    they will not stop
50 until the Lord looks down
    from heaven and sees.
51 My heart is breaking
    over the fate of all the women of Jerusalem.

52 My enemies, whom I have never harmed,
    hunted me down like a bird.
53 They threw me into a pit
    and dropped stones on me.
54 The water rose over my head,
    and I cried out, “This is the end!”

55 But I called on your name, Lord,
    from deep within the pit.
56 You heard me when I cried, “Listen to my pleading!
    Hear my cry for help!”
57 Yes, you came when I called;
    you told me, “Do not fear.”

58 Lord, you have come to my defense;
    you have redeemed my life.
59 You have seen the wrong they have done to me, Lord.
    Be my judge, and prove me right.
60 You have seen the vengeful plots
    my enemies have laid against me.

61 Lord, you have heard the vile names they call me.
    You know all about the plans they have made.
62 My enemies whisper and mutter
    as they plot against me all day long.
63 Look at them! Whether they sit or stand,
    I am the object of their mocking songs.

64 Pay them back, Lord,
    for all the evil they have done.
65 Give them hard and stubborn hearts,
    and then let your curse fall on them!
66 Chase them down in your anger,
    destroying them beneath the Lord’s heavens.

The author's sorrow is tangible. He (most scholars attribute the author to be Jeremiah, but I am not a theologian, and the strict importance isn't prevalent to the point I want to make) feels crippled, debilitated, abandoned, lost, confused, and hopeless for most of the entire chapter. However, a third of the way into the chapter, a few steel verses undergird this crisis and its truth bridges his grief beginning with three little letters: 

YET. 

"Yet I still dare to HOPE when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning... The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in him." (Lamentations 3:21-23)

There have been songs and books written about these verses. They are familiar and held dear by many Christians. To some, the familiarity may have reached the status of distasteful platitude, and maybe you'd rather not hear them while you feel swallowed up in your own pain. To the latter group, I pray that my simple thoughts might bring you some fresh hope. 

"I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss." (Lamentations 3:20)

When I read this verse this past week, the word grieve stood out to me. It is present tense. The author is currently grieving. His grief hasn't passed. He is still in the midst of pain, pain which he is forthcoming, transparent, and bold about. Right in the middle of that piercing pain, right in the middle of the mess of life and the anguish and sorrow, the author declares his truth that everything is NOT OKAY, yet he also declares further truth that GOD'S LOVE IS FAITHFUL and HIS MERCIES NEVER END. These are not mutually exclusive. They are both possible at the same time. In fact, because life is so...well...life-y, it is PROBABLE that both truths coexist. I am not going to get into all the ways that the church and Christians sometimes dismiss pain and expect rapid surrender to God. I simply want to leave you with the encouragement that in the midst of grief, loss, pain, sorrow, doubt, and anguish there is a yet, and the yet is the faithfulness of God that loves you and floods you with his mercy. I hope like Jeremiah and ragamuffin little me, too, that you will "still DARE to HOPE." You are heard, you are not abandoned, you are loved, you are seen, you are redeemed. Even if you don't feel it. Even if you are suffering. In grace, I humbly share...

"Therefore, I will hope in him." (Lamentations 3:24).

God is Not Faithful... One Year Later

Just over a year ago, I wrote the single most difficult piece I have been brave enough to publicly share to date. You can read that piece HERE. I challenged the faithfulness of God based on my personal experience and wrestled out loud. FIERCELY. I didn't give answers and there was no easy resolve. There still isn't. I expected a few ripples among those I called friends, and I did, indeed, feel misunderstood by a few I deeply loved and respected. I assumed they reciprocated that same respect and our relationship could afford me wrestling with this. It was almost as if I had gravely sinned, perhaps not by wrestling, but for saying so out loud. Maybe they worried that I might damage others' perception of God or tarnish God's reputation? I also believe there is a sense of fear in some Christians based on the awe of a holy God, and me questioning God's faithfulness was going against that holiness in their minds. To them, I was flat out irreverent. It was easier and tidier to dismiss me altogether rather than consider life-circumstances of how I came to question God's faithfulness. However, I KNEW I was not alone on my spiritual journey. Others also experience gaping questions about God, and few writers/speakers/leaders seem to share from the perspective of fighting to keep faith when you feel abandoned by God. My entire post was about me FIGHTING. There are many who walk away from faith, and I found more understanding with my questions in those particular circles than I found in Christian circles. That is why sharing this was important to me. I want to be, albeit small, a voice to others that struggle. I am not one to let the disillusioned feel alone, so I wrote my heart in hopes of giving someone else a small, humble gift of knowing they were/are not alone in grim, confusing, or heart-rending circumstances. 

Since a year has passed, I want to be 100% clear that I am not going to apologize for my previous piece. I stand by every single word. It was an honest and humble gift of transparency that I shared to reach out to fellow strugglers. In turn, several people who were also fighting for faith and peace in the midst of no answers and utter silence from God reached out to me and inspired me. Life is a journey for each of us, and no two life-journeys are the same. No two faith-journeys are the same. We need to pause our thoughts and stop judging one another. PLEASE STOP. End the categorizing of people as more or less spiritual or wise. Leave room and be open that all of us who are AUTHENTICALLY WALKING WITH GOD are learning different and valuable things. This is something that I am learning, too. Wisdom will listen. Wisdom will pause. Wisdom will glean. Wisdom will respond in grace. You are not necessarily a more mature Christian if you have not questioned God at this level. Deep faith wrestles with circumstance and still finds a way to rise from the rubble to say I still believe. 

The church as a whole has done a deplorable job in the area of grief. It is an almost unspoken expectation for Christians to swallow what has been thrown at them and give glory to God. IMMEDIATELY SURRENDERING TO GOD WITHOUT PROCESSING YOUR SUFFERING IS MORE LIKE ABUSE THAN FAITH. When tragedy pulverizes you, it's okay to be honest about your anguish. When you have been entwined with long-term suffering, it's okay to question. Being forthright doesn't mean you aren't trusting God. Faith that is painfully pounded and chiseled away to almost nothing at all is stronger than faith that has never been challenged. Challenged faith to the untrained heart looks battered, mangled, worn, and ugly. Unchallenged faith to the untrained heart looks polished, desirable, and perfect. The truth is, unchallenged faith will likely not withstand a violent disturbance of life because the faith-roots are not deep. Please also consider that the pastors, teachers, and leaders you allow to speak into your life might need to look a touch less flawless. Those who are leading you need to experientially understand suffering. Jesus did. Authenticity itself has become a trend because people are starving for it. There are leaders that have finessed the jargon of authenticity to grow their congregations and ministries. The outside looks perfect, but the roots are weak. Counterfeit authenticity damages people who are truly grieving. Counterfeit authenticity eventually isolates suffering people and heaps shame on their struggle if not handled according to unspoken timelines. 

So how will I respond to my personal questioning of God's faithfulness today? I have learned a few things over the past year(s):

1. God time is slow... slow... slow... time.

2. When you don't feel like you can hold onto faith, sometimes you find out faith is holding onto you.

3. I still believe. Deeply. I have imagined myself walking away from God and what that would look like. I just can't do it. 

4. I understand why people walk away from God or never believe in the first place. I truly do. I likely won't have the same understanding from most unbelievers, but that's okay. Sadly, it seems like it's a shorter trip to unbelief than to belief. Christianity is staked on the promise that in this world we will have trouble. It's hard to sign up for that, but I can't help myself. I have experienced enough of God in my forty-eight years to know that I can't walk away. 

5. There will NEVER be answers for tragic suffering this side of heaven. EVER.

6. God is responsible for His own reputation. God is responsible for his own reputation. One more time. GOD IS RESPONSIBLE... FOR HIS ...OWN... REPUTATION.

7. I do have an awe and reverence for God. This truth has helped me find some shards of peace and carried me through years of hard circumstances. I am small in a very big world. He is God. I am not. I cannot see His purpose yet. Maybe I never will. Some days are more difficult than others, but see number three. 

8. God can handle my honesty with Him. In fact, I believe He wants it fully.

9. I have found that those who have suffered the most also help the most, because they truly understand. This world needs more compassion, and the truest compassion is always found in the shadows of suffering. (I am immensely grateful to those who have helped me, and helped my family in the last year.)

10. I trust God. It sometimes takes me a while to get to the place where I can say it out loud, but I eventually get there. Sometimes things don't make sense, but it isn't my job to make sense of everything. 

11. God is faithful. However, I fully believe that our western culture has devised their own ideas about what God's faithfulness looks like. God is not a genie God waiting to grant requests. Faithfulness does not mean cultural abundance or affluence. Faithfulness does not mean perfect health and a life without tragedy. God's faithfulness means that HE HOLDS ONTO ME when I feel like I can't hold onto Him. Faithfulness means that He teaches me even when He is painfully silent. Faithfulness means that I am still here and I still believe. Faithfulness means there is hope in the midst of grim circumstances. Faithfulness means there is true redemption and soul-restoration for my broken humanity... and yours. 

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