Facets of Faith

Conversations about life, faith, and friendship.

Trusting God When Fear Strikes Out

by //

We’re talking about fear and trust this month here at Facets of Faith. Tracy and Jen have shared. Click on their names if you missed their posts. Next week we have a wonderful guest so be sure to come back! Today, it’s my (Kim’s) turn. I figure we can jump right in with a confession. That’s always a great way to start (she says, dripping with sarcasm).

I know, nothing like opening an article with baring my heart and soul with a confession, but here it goes.

Sometimes I’m afraid to embrace life. I’m not afraid to live – I honestly don’t have any control over how my heart beats or the rhythm of my breathing. I used to wonder about that during the early days of grief, those days following my daughter’s death.

I remember those earliest moments when all I could do was focus on my breathing – the almost annoying pressure I felt to take air in and breath it out. I didn’t consciously think about breathing, but I remember those moments when the physical act took all of my attention.

Grief is ugly and heavy and yet somehow beautiful. It exposes the deepest parts of our souls, the most tender, the most vulnerable, the most precious. The tears that flow, that trickle down my cheeks were evidence of the love I have for my sweet Emma, for the years we had together and all of the memories that would never take place.

Fear became my bedfellow in many ways and for many years but I learned that God is bigger, He is stronger, He is more powerful than my greatest nightmare, than the moment I buried my daughter.

I thought as years passed and God healed my heart that the fear would subside. That the weight of grief would lesson and somehow I would return to normal.

Normal is actually overrated and illusive, isn’t it? Because as the years marched on, the fear that gripped my heart began to morph into something I didn’t know, something I didn’t expect. As the fear that surrounded me after Emma died began to subside, its cousin took its place. A darker, more insidious bedfellow that poked and prodded and tried to steal away the peace that God had given to me.

The fear made its presence known when life seemed to be rolling along at a reasonable pace. When I thought I had this living-with-grief thing figured out. That’s when it would start to whisper.

You know it could happen again. You could lose Kelsey, your other daughter. What if something happen to her?

Anxiety would follow, reminding me of all I lost and the emotions I felt as the fire destroyed my home.

Did you turn the stove off? Are you sure the fire alarms work?

Anxiety then became action as I walked around and checked the alarms regardless of the fact that I knew full well they worked.

The whispers grew louder and a little more frequent as I started to try new things.

Are you really laughing right now? Don’t you remember what happened to your house? To your pets? To your daughter? To your marriage?

Fear tapped it’s neighbor, shame, on its shoulder and the two of them unleashed their power.

If you enjoy life, you’re going to forget her. It’ll be as if she never lived. Is that what you want?

The worry and anxiety tried to suffocate my faith. It felt stronger. It seemed stronger. But was it? Really?

As my feelings grew and my heart healed, I realized the emotions that had been numb suddenly felt as if the faucet turned full force and my soul didn’t know how to absorb it all. Fear’s fingers squeezed the tender shoot of life that had begun to grow.

Fear gripped me. It paralyzed me. And there were days I let fear win. I hid and remained silent. I went through the motions of life without really living. On the outside I looked normal, functioning, engaging with the world. But on the inside? Where life mattered? I felt shriveled, destined to live in the dark.

This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust Him.” Psalm 91:2

Then one day I began to hear a different whisper, one that I knew, that I recognized.

Come near, I am here.

I never left you.

I see you. I see your tears. I weep with you. 

I am stronger.

I will protect you. I do protect you.

I love you. I delight in you.

I began to read my journals from those early days after Emma died and saw, through my own handwriting, the miraculous things that God had done. The peace that settled my heart. The joy when I sensed Him near. The truth that anchored my soul as it was tossed about by grief and loss.

 I will never leave you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

I am near. (Psalm 145:18)

I see you, your tears, your broken heart. (Psalm 56:8)

I am stronger. (Proverbs 18:10)

I am your protector. (Psalm 121)

I delight in you. (Zephaniah 3:17)

Those familiar words began to seep into my soul and snuff out the darkness. The light of His love shone into the hidden places and walled off spaces as I let His healing grace in. I learned God isn’t a bully, He won’t force His way in. But if we choose to trust Him, if we make the conscious decision to open our hearts and let Him in, He will fill us with a peace that truly passes all understanding and set an anchor for our soul through the craziest of storms.

So God has given both his promise and his oath. These two things are unchangeable because it is impossible for God to lie. Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.” Hebrews 6:18-19

I had to decide, once and for all, whether or not to believe God’s truth. I had to decide either He lied about everything, or His truth reigned over it all. Even over death. Even over loss. Even over fear.

I chose to believe.

I chose to believe that His Word is real and can guide me through my fear.

I chose to believe that He loves me, even when I fail.

I chose to believe that He delights in me simply because I’m His.

I chose to believe, once and for all, that He truly is bigger than my fear, and I don’t need to live as a ‘fraidy cat.

So now I’m beginning to embrace life in all of its messy gloriousness, and it is good.

How do you trust God in the face of fear?

Share you story in the comments below or jump over to our Facebook page and join the conversation. Thanks for reading!

A Rescue, Grace, and Coming Back to Truth

by //

What am I going back to? I’ve been sitting with this question for quite some time. I read Tracy’s encouraging post about returning to her life after a season of challenge, embracing new and old things she enjoys and feels called to do. You can read it here. Then I read Jen’s thought-provoking post about returning to her past and using 5 questions to embrace deeper healing. Check hers out here.

As for me, nothing much was making sense until I realized the answer was staring me straight in the eye.

Literally. Two precious dark-brown puddles of love watching me type.

World – meet Cynthia or, as we call her, Scout.

I’m a pet owner again, for the first time in over six years, and it’s so.much.fun.

Scout is the most loving, patient, laidback dog I’ve ever met, let alone owned. She rarely barks, loves belly rubs,  and is usually found within a couple of feet of me, often snuggling close to my feet.

Scout is also a rescue dog. Several weeks ago a friend posted her picture in search of a foster family to take her in. My husband and I had been talking about adopting a dog, but we weren’t sure how the kids would do with a dog, or how a dog would handle them. When I saw my friend’s post, I realized fostering might be a great way to test the waters.

Yeah, I know. You see where this is going, don’t you?

After I made arrangements to pick Scout up one morning, I realized I was nervous. It had been a long time since I owned a dog, and I was hesitant to let one into my heart again.

My first dog was a Dachshund named Otto. I was a baby and don’t remember him at all, only stories of him chasing me which quickly prompted my parents to find him another home. Twenty-six years passed until Abby, a golden retriever, strolled into my life through my first marriage. She was older, sweet, and fairly laid back. Abby died peacefully under a tree at friend’s house while we were on vacation a few years later.

Then came Lady, a beautiful Sheltie who quickly adopted my youngest daughter, Emma, as her buddy. Wherever Emma was, Lady was nearby. It made sense then, in a way, that Lady died in the same fire that took Emma’s life. (You can read more about that here)

About a year after our life turned inside out, I learned of a rescue, Beauty. She could’ve been Lady’s older sister. We cared for her through her final years of life until she died a little over six years ago.

Heart-wrenching, I know. To become attached to a pet only to have it die, not once but three times. What in the world was my husband thinking when he mentioned getting a dog?

Sometimes I wonder.

Didn’t he know how difficult it was going to be to enjoy another pet? Didn’t he know the pain it could cause? The worry? The work? The poop-clean up?

But when I saw her picture on my friend’s page, asking for a foster family, something stirred in me and before I knew it, I responded we’re interested!

A rescue.

I know what it means to be rescued. I know the depths of loneliness and fear. I know the pain of regret and disappointment. I know the darkness of grief and loss. I know what it’s like to be cast aside, to be lost and desperately in need of compassion and care, to be wanted, just as I am.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. Psalm 34:18, NLT

But I also know what it’s like to meet the One who loves me so much that He sent His Son to earth to make a way back to Him (Ephesians 2:5). The One who lavishes His love over me (Deuteronomy 7:9, NLT). The One who calls me by name (John 10:3).

I know these truths, but sometimes I forget. I forget the depth of God’s love for me.

And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. Ephesians 3:18, NLT

I forget that He delights in me (2 Samuel 22:20) as I begin to work and strive, hoping to earn His affection as if I’m reminding Him why I’m worth loving. I glance at my schedule and see good work after good work until exhaustion sets in. And when exhaustion takes hold, the whispers of the enemy growl loud.

You’re worthless.

Why would anyone want to hear what you have to say?

If they really knew you and what you’ve done, what you’ve thought . . . they’d all walk away.

Accusation tumbles over accusation as my worth falters under the weight of lies. Finally, when the pressure feels too great to carry, I turn with head low and eyes down, hopeful that God will take me back. That He’ll allow me to return to the safety of His wings.

His voice begins to speak louder than the lies.

I love you. (1 Thessalonians 1:4)

You are mine. (Isaiah 43:1)

There is nothing that will ever change that. There is nothing that can every snatch you away. (John 10:28)

I delight in you simply because you’re my daughter.

For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” Zephaniah 3:17, NLT

Yes, I definitely know what it’s like to be rescued, to be restored and welcomed into God’s family not as a guest or a foster, but as a full-fledged daughter of the King. And as His daughter, I’m learning that He delights in me, longs to give me good things, and not only redeems the places in my heart that have been broken by loss and sin, but restores them as well.

And sometimes it shows up in the form of a precious pup named Scout.

What truth or characteristic about God do you need to return to? Join the conversation by posting below or heading over to our Facebook page to share. We’d love to hear from you!

Suffering and the Delight of God

by //

It’s all giggles here at Facets of Faith this month, something the three of us do quite well. This month we’re sharing how we see God’s humor through our lives. Be sure to check out Tracy and Jen’s posts before you check mine out below!

My husband loves to make me laugh. He tickles me, tells silly stories, sends goofy memes and gifs all to entice a giggle or two. I used to think he was plain goofy, but now I realize he simply delights in making me laugh and seeing me smile. And I’ll tell you a secret, I bask in his delight, even on days I may roll my eyes more than giggle.

There’s been much heartache up until these middle years of mine. Death, divorce, heartbreak. It’d be easy to stay sullen and allow bitterness to take root. After my daughter died, I prayed against that. I didn’t want to become that bitter woman who lost her joy even though death snatched her daughter away. I didn’t want to stay focused on all I lost, even though it was considerable. I wanted to embrace what was good. And in the goodness were hidden moments of laughter.

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven…A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.” Ecclesiastes 3:1,4 NLT

I remember hanging in the hospital about a week after fire destroyed our home. The visitation and celebration of my daughter’s life were over, space where stories of Emma’s love for her family, her giggles at all things flatulence, and her simple joy of animals were shared. We giggled through tears as we remembered Emma jumping on the bed as little toots escaped her behind.

The long days of grief loomed before me while we still waited on news about her dad, who had suffered burns in the fire. I stood with my brother, making plans about, well, something. I can’t seem to remember what it was, but I do remember the laughter that took us both by surprise.

That’s the funny thing about grief – it robs us of certain memories while illuminates others. I remember telling my brother I’d look something up on the computer once I got home. It took a moment for my statement to catch up with reality.

Home. My home was destroyed by fire. Call it hysteria, lack of sleep, or a precious gift of laughter to lighten the moment, but my brother and I started giggling as I pretended to plug in the computer at various heights in our wall, searching for power.  Where in the world would it fit? The wall no longer existed.

I know, you had to be there. But that’s what laughter and humor is about at times, isn’t it? A moment when you are fully present as a comment or look tickles your funny bone. And then the giggles begins to erupt from the depth of your broken heart until it spills out to those around you and you realize you’re able to endure a little while longer.

I still giggle as I remember that moment, that gulp of fresh air at the beginning of the long road of grief. A tender gift shared with my brother from the One who created laughter.

Have you ever thought about that? Where laughter began? Do we learn to laugh or is it something God instills in us, creating this gift that not only allows us to endure life, but enjoy it? Not sure? Jump over to YouTube and search “baby laughs”. Then be prepared to laugh . . . for hours, because baby giggles are. the. best. Don’t believe me? Try it. I dare you. (insert winky-eye emoji here)

As I think about this gift of laughter, another reality begins to settle. If I enjoy laughter and giggles, and Scripture says that I’m made in God’s image (Genesis (9:6), then surely that means God enjoys laughter, too. Doesn’t that mean that maybe, somehow, He laughs? That He might even delight in my laughter? In yours?

For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” Zephaniah 3:17, NLT

Allow that to settle over your weary or heavy burdened heart for a moment. God delights in you. He loves to see you laugh, and even creates moments to bring laughter to you. Think about a giraffe or a platypus (Jen talked about this last week). Or a rainbow decorating the sky after a storm. Have you ever sat in wonder as giggles erupted within your soul in pure joy of God’s goodness? Of His creativity?

I think that’s why God gave me my husband and his sheer delight in making me laugh. I think God gifted this man to me as a physical reminder of His delight in me. Of redeeming the tears and the sorrow that has filled much of my adult life. Of providing a tiny glimpse of the joy and laughter that awaits me, that awaits us, once we’re in His presence at home.

Never again will you be called “The Forsaken City” or “The Desolate Land.” Your new name will be “The City of God’s Delight” and “The Bride of God,” for the Lord delights in you and will claim you as his bride.” Isaiah 62:4, NLT

How has God shown you His humor? When have you experienced the gift of laughter?

 

 

 

Join the conversation, or even share a memory or two by posting below or jumping over to our Facebook page. We’d love to hear from you!