My life isn’t in a rough place. I’m not going through my excruiating experience like I went through several times last year, but my life isn’t problem-free.  For the first time, I am fairly on my own. I have a “big kid” job and bills to pay. I am active looking for a place to live and my plate is quite full between family, work, church, and David. There’s a particular issue I’ve been facing lately and I have shared with several people about it and asked for prayer.  It constantly weighs on my mind and I’ve asked for God to show up more times in one day than I think about probably anything else.  

As I spent time with the Lord this morning, He reminded me of this from Jesus Calling.  “Give up the illusion you deserve a problem-free life.” John 16:33 promises that. So needed that reminder, but then I read the verses that are tied in with it, which I needed even more the “Take heart! I have overcome the world.” He is all I need.

The day wained on and my frustration with technology issues and other such things banged at the door of my patience and sanity.  And as I was banging my head on the desk, David suggested that I pray for a few minutes. He’s smart like that. And so I did, which didn’t rid me of my problems but helped me put everything in perspective.  And then after more little issues, I left and ran an errand.  I drove past three homeless people within a half mile.  And I was reminded , not so subtly, that although my issues are real and difficult, others have it MUCH more difficult than me.

Working on walking in that truth.

It was a Tuesday night. I sat in my car in my driveway, having sobbed the entire drive home. Forcing myself to pull myself together, I wiped away the tears and was convinced that in the morning, this would all be fixed, it would all be taken back. I was sure what was going on in my life was just a terrible nightmare. I opened the creaky old door to my house and stepped in. Closing it and taking a step onto the landing of the stairs on my house in a swift move, I was my mom. My composure was lost and I watched my mom’s eyes grow in worry, she quickly told the person she was on the phone with that she had to go and hung up. As I tore up the stairs and into my mom’s arms, breathing already a difficult action, I cling to her and sobbed. And then I asked, “Why is God taking everything away from me?” 

The next Tuesday, my car packed full of stuff, I left for Texas. Having gone into a near zombie state, we backed out of my driveway for the last time. The house where I spent my Christmas for most of life, where my mom and I rebuilt ourselves, where friends hung out, where I called home was being sold to someone else 15 days later. Although I had cried almost all the time, that week, as we backed out, no tears were shed. Where I returned in July, I had no idea where I would call home. My mom would live in Florida and we were not sure how often we would see each other. The relationship I was in for a year was over. 

Th closer we got to Texas and the farther we got from Georgia, the better I could breath, literally.  I did not see hope or healing in Texas. I did not see love or laughter there. Not like how it turned out, at least.

One of my first few days there, I went with my brother as he taught a seminary class about grief counseling. We went through the steps of people grieving, how they react and respond, and how they find healing. We all joked that it was a good idea for me to go hear him, but behind the joke, we all knew I needed it. And then shortly after that, I sat in my room for hours, surrendering everything. And He blew me away.

Six months later, I am astonished. I know the answer to the question I asked through sobbing. “Why is God taking everything away from me?” Oh if only I had listened more to Jesus in that moment than my broken heart. “To rebuild you.” 

This morning, as I do almost every day, I look back to what God has done in my life over the past few months, gratefulness never far from my lips because it is overflowing from my heart, (Matt 12:34). As I started my day with Jesus Calling before delving into my time with Him, the two verses for today spoke exactly to these past few months.

Jeremiah 31:3-4

“The LORD appeared to him from far away. I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore, I have continued to extend faithful love to you.Again I will build you so that you will be rebuilt, Virgin Israel. You will take up your tambourines again and go forth in joyful dancing.”

Lamentations 3:22-26

“[Because of] the LORD’s faithful love we do not perish, for His mercies never end. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness! I say: The LORD is my portion, therefore I will put my hope in Him. The LORD is good to those who wait for Him to the person who seeks Him. It is good to wait quietly for deliverance from the LORD.”

I read a little farther in Lamentations to 32 of that chapter.

“Even if He causes suffering, He will show compassion according to His abundant, faithful love.”

And oh what compassion I have been shown. The healing I have been covered. The love I have been shown. The adventure He has taken me on. I am still being rebuilt, it’s a hard process, but He is showing me His abundant, faithful love. I wouldn’t take anything that has happened back. I wouldn’t ask for anything different.

The thing I needed to be reminded of most this morning is that especially when I cannot see what He is doing to know, He is doing something. I need to cling to that especially as December 14 (the day I move to Texas) gets rapidly closer and as I continue the job search.

I wrote this a few weeks ago.

I’m sitting on a plane right now.  As far as I know, there are seven men actively serving in our country’s military.  One is in full uniform, while the other six are in civilian clothing but carrying their uniforms in garment bags and their hats in their hands.  As I was waiting to board the plane, I almost had to hold back tears as I stared at these men. I have no idea if they have ever seen the battlefield, but if they were called up, they would go.  I imagine most of them are my age. Yet, they may die serving our country, for you, for me, for our families, for our friends, for our future. What an incredible sacrifice.

I was reading some old journal entries. I misplaced my journal for about 6 weeks, never thinking to look under the passenger seat of my car. In one of them, I was praying for the martyrs of the world. I remember the sermon I had heard that week in church was about martyrdom.  The pastor gave verses about it and then, he read story after story of people, who at that moment, were imprisoned and waiting to be killed for speaking the name of Jesus.  What if we could identify them like we can those in the military?

I’ll be the first to admit that my focus this semester has been microscopic and narrow.  Mostly, focused on me and my little world. Truly fighting to survive this semester with absent team members for group projects, projects falling apart 8 weeks in with two weeks before its due, change, and knowing that almost one month from today, I will graduate with a college degree. The following day, I move to Texas. It’s a dream come true, and I am truly excited about this new adventure. I do feel sorrow and sadness. That project I just mentioned that fell apart was turned in yesterday. Twenty-four hours before it was due. I had spent the last 16 days working on that thing for hours a day. And I was going to need to be checked into a mental hospital if I had to look at it anymore. And I wanted to celebrate so I called my best friend Kathryn if she wanted to go out to dinner.  We laughed and updated each other and laughed some more. I enjoyed every minute with her because in a month, I won’t be able to do that. She’ll be 800 miles and a different time zone and I’ll miss her terribly. 

Then, as I was packing for my trip, I talked to David.  I was impatient and snippy. I told him it was that the stress over this project was over and I was just a ball of emotion. Thirty minutes later, I burst into tears, frustrated over bringing too many jackets to Texas. What I was really crying about was being done with projects, realizing I was graduating and that my resume was being sent to companies and positions daily, and that I was moving to Texas.

I’m excited but I just wish I could pack some people and take them with me. I cannot think about moving without the two faces of my babies, my girls, my nieces, Kacie and Kelli, coming to my mind and when that happens, tears flow. Every time. Even on my plane with 150 strangers, tears fill my eyes and streak my face. They are everything to me. I have watched them grow since the started school eight years ago. I’ve babysat them, painted their nails, let them paint mine, cuddled on the couch and watched movies, laughed, held them as they cried, countless times. Dance performances, plays, piano and voice recitals, talent shows, fall festivals, and school dances, I’ve been there. I have such a unique and tight bond with them living in a separate state seems unbearable. Yet I know its where called has God me. I’m praying He calls my sister’s family to Fort Worth, shortly after I move there, I’ll let you know how that goes.

This year has not been easy. I would venture to say, and most who know the intimate details of my life would agree, that this has been the most trying year. I’ve certainly never felt so helpless, lonely (at times), broken or cried more. And I know there is more to come.  2011 has not been the most enjoyable, but it has brought some of the greatest blessings and answers to prayer and for that I am grateful. I am grateful for the heartache, pain, and sorrow this year has held.  I wouldn’t repeat it if I had a choice that’s for sure, but that’s the only way I’ve made to November 11 of 2011.  Thanking God, through the tears, the laughter, or the ordinary.

So when I think of what martyrs go through, well I can’t. I have no idea what it’s like. I do know their pain and struggles far exceed mine. I do imagine, however, they cling to God like I have, with praise and thanksgiving on their lips. I’m not sure but from stories I’ve heard, it’s how they stay sane. They thank Him for laying down His life so willingly for them. They are so thankful for His sacrifice and so grateful for Him, that they spoke the name of Jesus in places that want to wipe Him out. I imagine in their darkest hours, they have never felt closer to God. I don’t think they are laughing and smiling all the time or even most of the time, but as they sit, curled up in the corner on a damp, filthy, dark, tiny cell, with fresh wounds from beatings they have just taken, they feel Him.  He makes Himself known. My trials do not compare to what they face. My struggles nowhere near their own and so my heart is heavy for them. Heavier for them. God’s plan for my life may not be to die for His name, but His plan is for me to live for Him.

Last year, someone my age passed away after ten years of fighting cancer. Our families were friends, although I had only met him a few times. He died having lived for Jesus. Something that has stuck with me since his funeral is something he said.

He quoted Hebrews 12:1, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.”

And John said this, “I want to run with everything I can, as hard as I can. If not, why run at all?”

Today I was reminded that I need to run with all I have for Jesus, the King of glory. Not for me. Not for anyone else. Just Him. Whatever He calls me too.

Praying for the martyrs today as they follow what God has called them to. They do not stick out in a crowd to me like the military do, but they do to Him. Praying for our military as well.

I remember.

I was a 7th grade/ 12 year old girl with braces. I wore Limited Too like it was going out of style. I was as shy and quiet as can be.  I was one of the tallest girls in my class and my classmates had finally, for the most part, stopped picking on me. The bell had just rang for me to go from Mrs. Hurley’s social studies class to Mrs. Stewart’s language arts. I remember seeing those two teachers talking in their shared doorway. I watched the color drain from Mrs. Hurley’s face as she ran to her TV. The rest of the day was spent going from class to class watching the news. I watched the second plane hit the other tower. I sat with my two best friends at lunch. United 93 had not crashed yet and we speculated how many more planes had been hijacked and where they were headed. Our parents worked downtown and we wondered if Atlanta would be a target. PE was one of my last classes of the day and it was the only time we did not dress out. Instead, we all sat on the floor of the gym while our teacher explained that that day was our generation’s version of 9/11. My mom came home from work a little later that day, but I cannot tell you the relief to see she was actually alive. My family sat in our living room every night for the next week watching the news. The first night, my mom spent most of the time calling the employees of her companies New York office. The company had an office in one of the towers. 

I remember that day. My nieces and I have spent a lot of time today talking about that day. I was their age when it happened. And although I covered my nieces eyes as we watched a 9/11 special when someone jumped out of the tower, no details were hidden from them. I will share the story with my kids when it’s time. It changed the world forever or rather it brought to light a world no one wants to admit it exists. Where such evil and hate exists and with the advancement of technology will probably become even more damaging. A world that scares you for your future children and the generations to come. A world where the sun seems to shine a little less, and night gets darker. A world that breaks your heart every time you watch the news, read the paper, or look into people’s eyes. A world without hope. 

Our world may feel hopeless, but we are never without hope. In fact, Jesus died so that we would never be without hope. So that although our world may grow darker, darkness will never encroach the gates of Heaven.

“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

I remember that day and although I have no ideas what evils the world has yet to release, I have hope. I have the hope of Glory living in me (Col. 1:27). And when panic starts to arise within me, I remember the promise. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John16:33

Today as I sat in church, I remembered that day. I remembered the tragedy and then I remember all the lost people that live in and around me.  No one can save those that died 10 years ago. But what about the people that live around us? Our country is lost. We need a Savior. Those who proclaim Christ as Lord are the avenue between a lost world and the Light of the world.

This morning, tears ran down my face as we sang “You Hold Me Now.” I want everyone to know the future this song sings about. Today, I remember, but more than that I pray for our nation and our world, for my neighbors, friends, family, and strangers. I pray not only for those dying for our country and our faith, but for those who are just dying. My heart breaks for them more than anything else. What does your heart break for the most?