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Life Lessons: The Presence of God in Turmoil

09.25.2018 by Terry Bliler //

Friends, I (Jennifer) have the privilege of introducing you to one of our precious friends, Terry. Our team is honored she accepted our invitation to share with you. Take time to lean in and mine the life lessons woven into her story. They are bedrock faith truths we all need—now or in the future—as we face the most difficult trials. I just want to get out of the way and let you meet her. Terry has so much to share. Honestly, life is hard, and some of us hope to move through it with God’s strength.

IMAGE: Life Lessons, Guest, yellow.

“Peace is not the absence of turmoil, it’s the Presence of God” – unknown

One night while I was praying, I had the sense that the Holy Spirit was telling me to specifically pray that my husband, Scott, and I would praise Him until our last breath. I was taken aback for a moment because I knew that was a loaded prayer. But I also know faith is an act of the will, so I obediently prayed even though it was scary. And I prayed it the next night, and the next…

I never mentioned it to Scott because, honestly, it didn’t occur to me during the day. It was at night, when all was quiet, that I’d hear Him whispering to me to pray that we would praise Him until our last breath. Oh, how I would need His strength to face the upcoming chapters of our lives.

In 2 ½ years I lost my daughter (June 2015: died in her sleep), husband (February 2017: cancer), and mother (January 2018: an extremely rare case of Cystic Fibrosis). Praying, “Lord, let us praise You until our last breath” is a “dangerous” prayer…

Jessica:  February 28, 1987 – June 18, 2015
Jessica (our only child) died in her sleep at 28 years old of complications from her auto-immune illnesses. Her passing took us by total surprise. We did not realize the impact her illnesses had taken on her heart.

Jess contracted a severe case of mono when she was 16. The mono wiped out her immune system and was the trigger for several autoimmune illnesses (Raynaud’s Phenomenon, Sjorgren’s Syndrome), plus Narcolepsy, high blood pressure, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. We pursued medical, holistic, and chiropractic treatments for 12 years with only minor improvements. She was only able to leave the house for short periods of time because of exhaustion and unrelenting pain.

Besides the Lord, her greatest joy was when she was with her nieces and nephews. (Technically they’re second cousins, but it would have been dangerous to your health if you pointed that out. Seriously.) She also loved playing sports, and it grieved her that she could no longer participate. Jessica was bitter that she “didn’t have a life.” She was homebound most of the time. And when she did have plans, she usually had to cancel at the last minute. She was very lonely, although we were very close. I also have multiple autoimmune illness and was often home as well. We did everything together, including seeing the same doctors. Our rheumatologist called us “The Twins.” We had the same odd sense of humor and made each other laugh hysterically.

At 2:30am on the morning of June 18, 2015, Jess woke me because of a severe headache (she had chronic migraines) and terrible nausea. She complained she was cold and asked for the down comforter. Jess and I were rarely cold, even in Chicago winters, so this was odd. I found the comforter and gave her nausea and pain meds.

I prayed over her for healing that night while she slept. And she was healed, but not how I had expected.

Later that morning (11:45am) I went to wake Jess. It was obvious she had passed away. No words can describe the feeling of seeing your child in rigor and being cold to the touch. I called 911 and explained the situation. I was as calm as you can be in the situation. The operator insisted I might be mistaken about her being dead, though I reiterated she was deathly pale and in rigor. He repeated that I should immediately get her on the floor and begin CPR. Suddenly, I thought he might be right! Maybe I was wrong! Then I lost it, as they say. I straddled her and began CPR, which was difficult because she was on her side. I began shaking her and screaming her name.

The police, ambulance, and coroner arrived. I was immediately escorted out of her room by the police. The coroner went in her room and closed the door.

My husband was teaching summer school, and the switchboard shut down at noon. I called his cell phone over and over, but he didn’t pick up his silenced phone. He called back ten minutes later, but the officer would not let me speak to him. He told Scott that he needed to get home right away. (Scott said later that driving home from school every day after was traumatic. He didn’t know which one of us was in trouble, and he relived the feelings every day coming home from school.)

Image: Jess a week before she died.
Picture taken at the rheumatologist’s office a week before Jess died.

“Until Jesus is enough, nothing or no one will ever be enough…”

I wrote this on a post-it note on Jessica’s door…then I was called to live it.

The next few weeks are a blur, but we had a sense of peace that was—and still is—hard to understand. I am not saying it was easy. When someone asked how I was doing, I quoted Psalm 119:92, “If Your law had not been my delight, I would have perished in my sorrow.” And that is the truth.

We didn’t have a service right away. Our family, friends, church family, lavished us with love and did everything possible to make the situation a little less painful. We held a Celebration of Life a few weeks after Jess passed. It was a joyous and beautiful service. ONLY GOD can give you the strength and peace to praise Him when what’s most precious to you is taken.

IMAGE: Shelter of His Wings, Birds
In the shelter of His wings, we found rest.

 

“God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.”

 

Scott:  April 18,1959 – February 7, 2017
Nine months after Jessica’s passing, we learned Scott had Metastatic Soft Tissue Sarcoma. What a dermatologist diagnosed as a “pimple” turned out to be a cancerous tumor that had spread to his lungs.

The cancer was aggressive and continued to spread despite treatment. Each doctor’s appointment brought news of what organs the cancer had spread to next. Despite the chemo treatments, Scott continued to push himself to work. He didn’t want to let his students down and didn’t want them to know he was fighting cancer, lest they worry and not focus on their work. Scott soldiered on, not complaining nor wanting special treatment. He trusted the Lord, no matter the outcome.

I, however, was very overwhelmed. Whenever I would express my fear of losing him, Scott would remind me that, “God is good.” And it really grated my nerves. I agreed that God is good, but cancer is not. Scott never wavered that his precious Lord and Savior was good…all the time.

My beloved husband of almost 32 years died 11 months after the diagnosis. He praised the Lord until his final breath.

Once again, our friends, family, and church family rallied around me. Scott’s Celebration of Life was a true celebration of his life and love for the Lord, family, friends, and students.

And, once again, I have total peace but my heart is forever broken.

And, once again, I can say that the only way to survive the losses is with the comfort of the Holy Spirit.

Mom:  March 10,1939 – January 28, 2018
My mother, Laverne May, was a cross between Dolly Parton and Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies. Quite a character. She was truly one of the most generous people I have ever met. I don’t think she ever met a critter, save snakes, that she didn’t love. Mom was not without her flaws—as all of us are not—but she was wise. My little brother died in 1977 at the age of 11 years old, of Cystic Fibrosis. It was because of John’s illness that my parents came to know the Lord.

When Jessica passed, my mom gently reminded me that Jess “was never yours to begin with.” Had anyone else said that to me, it would not have been pretty. But having buried a child and two grandchildren, she had earned the right to speak that truth to me.

My mother had been healthy until the last ten years of her life. She contracted pneumonia over and over and this once-entertaining and spirited woman became increasingly somber. We thought the doctor had lost his mind when he suggested Mom had CF. Cystic Fibrosis is a cruel disease and takes away life early. She didn’t fit the typical description, but DNA tests confirmed she had a very rare case. The doctors theorized that the disease lay dormant until the stress of a number of significant losses (her brother, father, husband, grandson in six years) set the illness in motion.

We were blessed her suffering was not prolonged. She went to bed in early December and couldn’t get back up. She passed less than two months later. The world is a little less kind with her passing. I miss her greatly.

What shall I return to the Lord for all His goodness to me? Psalm 116:12

My brother-in-law, a very godly man, passed years ago in his forties, leaving behind a wife and three daughters. Someone expressed to my sister-in-law, Jamie, that “she didn’t deserve” to have her husband taken from her and her daughters. She replied that she didn’t “deserve” to have such a kind and godly man as a husband and father to her girls. Her statement impacted me greatly.

It’s tempting to focus on the losses and not on the blessings of having a daughter, husband, and mother that adored me, and I them. It’s a rare gift, indeed. And, like Jamie, I can never repay the Lord for His goodness to me.

My prayer continues to be that “I would praise Him until my final breath.”

Signature: Terry Bliler

Categories // Guest Perspectives, Life, Life Lessons Tags // child loss, Death of Loved One, Facets of Faith, Life Lessons, Loss of a parent, Loss of spouse, Praising God, Terry Bliler, The Presence of God

Why We Need the Truth of God’s Goodness in Times of Suffering

08.21.2018 by Kim Findlay //

Welcome to Facets of Faith —a space where three friends take a topic on life or faith or friendship and offer three unique perspectives. This month we’re responding to the idea that what we don’t know, can hurt us. It’s a glimpse into our thoughts on truth and denial. Jen shared last week —you can read that here. I’m (Kim) up this week.What You Don't Know (green), K. Findlay

Truth these days has shifted from the crips black and white into the murkiness of gray. Toss in truth about God and oy! —the potential for a collision of opinion increases a thousandfold. Hang out on social media and it won’t take long to see the naysayers and trolls that come out to play; those whose only desire is to stir up trouble and angst, distracting us from what is real, what is good, what is true.

Here is the truest thing I know: God is good.

I know, as soon as you read those three words, a million reasons started to whisper why He is not. The poverty. The lost. The hungry. The forgotten. The discarded. The broken.

Suffering.

If God is good, why is there so suffering? Why do I suffer?

Before I dive in, I need to add a disclaimer here. I am not a theologian. I did not go to seminary. I’m just a life-in-the-middle gal who believes in Jesus and has a few ideas to share. But lest you think I’m sitting in my ivory tower of wishful thinking, these words you’re about to read were born from suffering.

I’ve endured what many would say is every parent’s nightmare. In 2005, my five-year-old daughter, Emma, died in a fire that destroyed not only our home, but wrecked our lives. The destruction didn’t stop there. Eight years later, my marriage crumbled under the weight of grief.

As I sifted through the rubble, I searched for something —anything that would stabilize me. That would steady my faith and ground me so I could stand. So I could survive.

In those early days after Emma died, I sat with my journal and tried to read my Bible. Sorrow wrapped its fingers around my heart and squeezed until I could barely breath. Why did this happen? How could this happen? Where was God in the middle of all of this?

I searched the Scriptures for something to cling to, for truth to help make sense of the destruction death left in its wake. I stumbled across this truth:“Yet I am confident I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living.” (Psalm 27:13, NLT)

Nothing about my life felt good at that time. Truthfully, nothing about it was good. And yet I couldn’t ignore the words I just read.  Was it possible that God could be good even in this?

Searching for Goodness

I began to search for His goodness —His definition, not my own. I learned He is not a permissive parent, allowing us to gorge on every whim and desire like Pinocchio experienced on Pleasure Island. That place where boys did what they wanted and were as naughty as naught could be.

Was that the kind of life that was good? Not even according to Disney. Fast forward as we watch the magic of the island gradually turn boys who acted like jackasses into donkeys, sold into a lifetime of humiliation and slavery in circuses and mines. What looked like enjoyment and a life of freedom and fun, became a trap into a lifetime of bondage.

And yet our minds still struggle to reconcile the suffering we see with the God who loves us. We begin to assume that because there is suffering, He is not good. Pastor and author Tim Keller explains that for those confident of their own insight, suffering actually disproves the existence of God. They reason that if He really was good, He would want to end suffering. He could do that because He is all-powerful, but since there is evil and brokenness, they determine that God can’t be both, so they believe He is not good.

Jesus’ disciples were confident of their own insight when they saw a man blind from birth. They thought they knew the answer to why he suffered when they asked Jesus. Was it his sin? The sin of his parents? Jesus replied, “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sin. This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” (John 9:3)

Searching for Truth

Because God is all-powerful, nothing is out of His control. While your world may feel chaotic, there is purpose. And because He is perfectly righteous, everything will work together for good in the end (Genesis 50:20).

Please hear me —death is never good. Jesus wept when he saw the grief from the death of His friend, Lazarus. He wept even though He was about to raise him from the dead. 

My daughter’s death will never be good. There are days when I long to hold her, to hear her giggles, to see her play with her sister. There are days when living with this distance between us is suffocating and I long for it to end, to be reunited with her.

It is in those moments when my grief feels heaviest that I’m able to turn to the One who loves me, who loves my sweet girl, and allow Him to wipe my tears and whisper truth to my soul.

You are loved, dear one.

I see your sorrow and I weep with you.

Just wait, dear one. Wait here with me, and I will wait with you. I will dry each tear and comfort each cry. I will remind you, for as long as it takes, that you are loved. That you are seen. That you are known. And that I am good.

I will show you things about this world, about yourself, about Me that you could never imagine on your own. I will reveal hidden mysteries and open your eyes to what I see. The beauty will overwhelm your sense and it will be a taste of what is to come.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old earth had disappeared  . . . I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, ‘Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Revelation 21:1,3-4, NLT

Do you believe God is good even in the face of suffering? I’d love to chat with you. Please comment below or join the conversation on our Facebook page.Signature: Kim Findlay

Categories // Kim Findlay's Perspective, Truth and Denial Tags // child loss, God is good, grief, hope, is God good, Kim Findlay, suffering, truth

Trusting God When Fear Strikes Out

10.17.2017 by Kim Findlay //

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!

Categories // Faith, Trusting God When Afraid Tags // child loss, encouragement, fear, grief, hope, Kim Findlay, Scripture, trusting God

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