Month: May 2020

Sometimes everything feels a little overwhelming… especially in the midst of a pandemic.

Sometimes I wonder if I can take any more pain. If I can handle one more thing on top of my already fragile psyche. I feel the weight of the world. Lately I’ve been angry at God for allowing all this pain into my life and into the lives of those I love. He seems cruel and distant, or at least unable to stop all the pain.

Unable to stop all the madness.

The more my heart gets broken, the more I have to cling to Him. I’m tired of suffering alone, pretending like things are not so bad as they really are. There is much suffering in my heart and in the world, and I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t deny that my heart is broken and this world is broken and it is not my home.

That my true home is not here, but with Him.

I want to make my home here. I want to put my hope into my circumstances, into my future here on earth.

It’s ironic that just after counseling my friend about anxiety, I find myself in my own state of fear. But I allow Him to draw me close in it, instead of staying stuck in my mind. I allow Him to comfort and reassure me that my treasures are not here, and that there is nothing of value that I can truly lose that will not be resurrected and redeemed in the end.

I keep settling for less, keep hoping that this world will become heaven, but it is not and it will never be. Maybe a pandemic is what is needed to make that abundantly clear. Our hope lies beyond this temporary life, this temporary world. Our hope and our future is in Him, and Him alone.

It’s such a hard and painful lesson, but there is so much release in the surrender. There is freedom.

Like many other engaged people in this time, I am being forced to reflect more deeply on the meaning of marriage. (As an aside, The Meaning of Marriage is a great book by Tim Keller that has profoundly shaped my understanding of marriage, and I highly recommend it).

With our approaching wedding being so uncertain and being unable to plan practically anything, I have to reconsider the importance of having the “perfect wedding.” I was getting so caught up in all the details and excited for the big day where I would have all the people I love gathered around me for this life-altering event.

In a sense I feel robbed. I think of all the beautiful weddings I’ve been to the past few summers, and it feels unfair that I can’t have that too. It’s so hard not to become bitter and ungrateful.

And yet, I know God is inviting me into something better during this season. Not only is He teaching me to surrender my desires and hopes to Him, but also help me to focus on the point of marriage in the first place. The fact that it’s not about the venue or the colors or perfectly placed floral arrangements–it’s about two hearts becoming one.

Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.

Ephesians 5:31

I have cried many tears in this time, for the world as a whole and for all those who have lost out on special celebrations. Because though it is not about the decorations and details, there is valid grief over the loss of having many gathered around you on your special day.

But maybe sometimes all those people and things serve as a distraction. Maybe when we’re so focused on all the details of a wedding, we forget to actually enjoy it. Maybe God is saving me from myself and my own obsession with insignificant details by making it virtually impossible to plan them.

Maybe He is turning my heart to Him and to my soon-to-be husband.

Slowly but surely God is shifting my perspective, and while I am still hopeful for a big celebration, I am learning to be okay with a smaller one too. I am learning that the moment will be special no matter what, as our two hearts join. There is no reason to be bitter or disappointed, because God has given me this miracle.

I recently listened to a Tim Keller sermon and one thing that he said really stuck with me: we have to preach out of our suffering.

Over the past year or so I have developed a keen repugnance to empty preaching, and I feel as though God has transformed my heart to discern truth from falsehood in this area. Don’t get me wrong– I used to be one of these preachers. I would spout off scripture and platitudes in hopes of encouraging but more likely with the underlying motivation of being viewed as “spiritual” or “put together.” I felt like I was better than others because I knew the promises of God and could recite them.

But now I wonder if I did more harm than good at times. That if in my pride, I wasn’t really listening to the person and being there for them in the way they needed, in the way that Jesus would have been. I wonder if I was making it more about me than about them– and about Him.

God has humbled me greatly. I am not so quick to speak as I once was. Rather, I have seen the power of presence. Presence with others in their pain, and words of comfort and wisdom out of my own. People who have suffered help people who are suffering.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.

2 Corinthians 1:3-5

I am immediately drawn not to the one who has much to say about my problems, but the one who understands my problems and can meet me in them. I pray that I can be that person for others. We don’t need more lectures. We need the presence of people.

In a suffering world, we have the privilege of providing hope to those who don’t have it out of our own suffering and overcoming. Especially now, we can reach out with a listening ear and words of hope and encouragement.

We can always find a reason not to be happy, especially, it seems, these days. While we are collectively mourning the state of the world, there are also millions of little personal crises happening every day.

A million different little things that can bring us down, if we let them.

As the sun comes out and the summer weather starts approaching, I find myself rejoicing. But then I almost feel guilty, as if I shouldn’t be happy in this time. As if by being depressed and worried I am standing in solidarity with the millions of people affected by this pandemic. As if that is the right disposition to have when things are going all wrong.

And yet, while there is so much pain and suffering in the world, I notice little things that bring me joy:

The birds singing in the morning in my backyard

The first cup of coffee

FaceTime calls with my dearest friends

Hiking the trail and listening to beautiful music

And I hear my Father saying “I created these things for your enjoyment. Enjoy them!”

The world tries to bully us into fear. We are made to feel that if we are not constantly worried about everything we are irresponsible or unfeeling. But what human can stand under the weight of the world? I know I can’t.

Jesus doesn’t lay this burden on us, but invites us to rest and find joy in Him:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Matthew 11:28-30

This is my favorite verse in the Bible because it reminds me of my freedom in Christ. It reminds me that following Him is not a duty or a chore, but my deepest delight and desire. That in Him I can let go of all my fears, concerns, and worries, and step into joyful and light living that isn’t bogged down by the cares of the world. It seems too good to be true, but it is His promise to us if we will trust Him and be willing to give up our anxious dispositions in exchange for joy. We are so used the the heaviness of life that we cling to it with everything we have, but there is a better way.

Pain and suffering in the world is not new. If we don’t learn now how to rejoice, we never will. In Him we have permission to rejoice.