grief Archives – Page 3 of 6

Rescued from Shame

04.17.2018 by Kim Findlay //

This month at Facets of Faith we’ve been answering the question “what has God rescued you from?”. Tracy and Jen each shared already —be sure to check out their posts by clicking on their names! If you don’t want to miss out, subscribe by sharing your email in the box to the right. Now, it’s my (Kim) turn!

The image slowly took shape in my mind’s eye. A little girl huddled in the corner. Alone. Scared. Dressed in rags she looked with longing at the banquet table spread out before her. Food filled every inch as the place settings were gilded in gold. She longed to join the feast but shame kept her hidden, and hopelessness kept her silent.

Pulling at her clothes, she wondered how to ease the ache in her stomach. The hunger for more. The longing to be loved and accepted.

Shame hissed in her ear again —you’ll never be loved. Look at what you’ve done. All that’s happened to you. You’re too damaged, too broken, too much. Her head hung lower, touching her knees. For a moment she wished the floor would simply swallow her whole if nothing else but to put an end to the despair.

Have you heard the whisper of shame before? The embarrassment over past decisions, whether yours or those who belonged to someone else? Maybe you’ve not only heard the whisper, you’ve been told that you’re too broken, too damaged, too much to deal with. Like the little girl in my dream, you hunkered down in the corner feeling unwanted, unnoticed, unloved and watched as the party unfolded.

I lived that way for quite a while —it looked like I was at the party but in reality I sat in rags like the little girl, tucked away in the corner listening to the lies that my brokenness was beyond healing as life drained from my bones. Death. Loss. Hopelessness.

I am dying from grief; my years are shortened by sadness. Sin has drained my strength; I am wasting away from within.” Psalm 31:10

The good news is that I didn’t stay there. Jesus rescued me not only from my sin, but from the shame that hushed my voice and caused me to believe I wasn’t good enough to sit at the table.

Because while I am not good enough (“For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard.” Romans 3:23), He is. There’s nothing I can do to “save” myself. There aren’t enough good deeds to perform or right living to live or pretending life is something it’s not. Only Jesus can save me.

He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters.” 2 Samuel 22:17

Christ suffered for our sins once for all time. He never sinned, but he died for sinners to bring you safely home to God. He suffered physical death, but he was raised to life in the Spirit.” 1 Peter 3:18

He rescued me from death and hopelessness. He rescued me from a life half-lived, from believing my broken heart makes me somehow “less than”, from trudging through the sludge of lies thinking that was all I deserved.

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.” Psalm 40:1-2

He not only rescued me from the despair that tried to trip me, He filled me with hope that sees beyond my circumstances —beyond my past and my present so I have strength to peer into the future and a life spent with God in eternity. He heals every broken piece and makes something new, something beautiful, something uniquely His that brings Him glory and restores my soul.

Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces.” Psalm 34:5

I think about that little girl huddled in the corner. I imagine the moment Jesus noticed her. Or perhaps, the moment she noticed Him. Eyes cast down a pair of feet suddenly before her. Maybe she felt Him before she saw Him, that wave of something she couldn’t quite explain. A glimmer of hope? A rush of peace?

Slowly she lifted her eyes, hesitantly, fearfully. She wondered if maybe she’d finally been found out and was about to be caste aside, thrown out like with the garbage.

Instead, she notices a hand reaching out to her. A dark hand worn from work, scarred and gentle. Waiting. Her own little hand reaches up, touching the rough skin as His fingers wrap protectively around hers. Before she knows it, she’s on her feet, wrapped in his warm embrace. Love fills her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Grace washes the tears that stream down her cheeks.

But He doesn’t stop there. He steps back and removes his robe, a robe that glimmers like diamonds. White. Pristine. She thought he was wise to do that, she didn’t want to dirty it with her rags. In a split second she realized he’s not removing it to be kept clean, he’s wrapping it around her shoulders. His righteousness becomes hers as the shame is replaced with hope.

I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God! For he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness.” Isaiah 61:10a

She begins to realize He’s still not done. She would be satisfied with His robe lovingly wrapped around her shivering body. But there’s more. So much more. He tenderly leads her toward the place she longed for —the banquet table. Pulling out a chair He guides her to sit and enjoy the goodness He has for her.

And she weeps with joy that can’t be contained as she joins the feast. Her heart and soul satisfied and filled with gratitude.

I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called —his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance.” Ephesians 1:18

We love to hear from you! If God has rescued you, can you tell us how? You can comment below or jump over to our Facets of Faith Facebook page and join the conversation.

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!

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Surrender?

07.18.2017 by Kim Findlay //

Welcome to Facets of Faith, a space where three friends share their perspectives on a topic each month. For July, we’re chatting about surrendering our lives to the One who loves us. Be sure to check out what Tracy and Jen had to say by clicking on their names. Kim continues the conversation this week.

This isn’t the life I chose.

I remember walking through downtown London, having just turned 40 while on a trip to visit my oldest daughter on her semester abroad. Meandering my way from Notting Hill toward Big Ben, my thoughts ran faster than my feet would move.

This isn’t the life I wanted.

Every failure seemed to scream for attention. Every failure and poor choice stood glaringly in my way. Ever since my youngest daughter died in a fire that destroyed our home, I feared becoming a statistic, and there were many.

I was a second wife – second marriages fail.

I lost a child – marriages fail after a child dies.

I had just turned 40, lost over 90 pounds, and my marriage was falling apart.

There I was, on a mini-pilgrimage through England, not only a statistic, but a cliche`. I wasn’t sure which was worse. Disappointment clawed at every good memory until all I could see where shredded remnants of a life I thought would last.

For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11, NLT

How did I get here?

I didn’t read the Bible a lot as a kid. I knew a lot of the typical stories from Sunday School along with a few key verses I memorized, truths whose roots wrapped around my heart. The first was written in my childhood bible, given to me shortly after my family moved from Connecticut to Illinois. I remember feeling alone and anxious, wondering if I’d make friends, worried we’d move again and my life would be filled with more good-byes.

She is clothed in strength and dignity, she can laugh at the days to come.” Proverbs 31:25, NIV

I didn’t know about the Proverbs 31 woman then, I didn’t understand the lofty expectation this passage often set in women’s hearts. What I did know from the age of 8 was that a woman could be strong and not be afraid of the future. My expectation of life included strength.

A few years later, when I graduated from my children’s bible to a teen version, my mom set another verse in front of me.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6, NIV

Freedom shouted from these verses directly to my soul. I could walk in freedom knowing that God guided my steps. I could walk in freedom as I trusted His plan for my life. I could walk in freedom and surrender my expectations and understanding of how life was supposed to be.

Walking in strength with dignity, having no fear of of the future, trusting God and not my own ways, surrendering to His ways in order to gain direction.

Life. Liberty. And the pursuit of surrender.

Knowing these verses was one thing, living them out . . . quite another.

As I grew, my American experience intertwined with my faith. Instead of the pursuit of surrender, I believed that a life following God meant a life filled with good things. With ease. With happiness. With more sunflowers than rain.

For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:9, NLT

When the storm of death crashed into my home, when the heart of my youngest daughter ceased beating, when breath was snatched from my lungs in grief, all that I knew needed to be redefined. All that I expected needed reworking. All that I understood needed a shift in perspective.

I returned to Scripture and dove in, head first. I sucked up its truth as it filled the crevices sorrow had carved. I returned to those verses of my youth and sat with them until they made more sense, until God revealed more of Himself, more of His heart and character. I realized I had to believe all of Scripture or none at all. I either had to believe God or determine He lied. I had to trust that Jesus did love me, or it was all just a childhood song.

I needed to surrender the life I wanted for the one that I lived, even though it included more heartache I ever thought possible to endure.

I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.” John 10:10

It’s been six years since I walked the streets of London. Six years filled with a lot of wrestling and questioning, a lot of doubt and fear. Six years filled with hope and healing, with grace and mercy, with redemption and restoration. Six years of learning to shift my eyes to Jesus, the One who does love me, who is the Author and Perfector of my life.

And while there isn’t a grand “happily ever after”, there is a lot of goodness, a life filled with love. The more I surrender to God’s plan for my life, the more I embrace this life I didn’t want, the more I taste His goodness and experience His grace.

No, this still isn’t the life I chose, but I’m learning to walk in strength and dignity, to trust God to lead my steps, and to giggle along the way.

How are you learning to surrender? Share below or head over to our Facebook page. Either way, come join the conversation!