People Rich (Not Rich People)

Some weeks, I just have to stand back and be amazed at how people rich I am.  God has placed such incredible people all around me, and I am very aware today of just how much I need them.

On Monday, I had lunch with Dana, Dia, and Suzanne, three women I have been doing life with for over a decade now.  They're the kind of women who crawl right up into my messes (the literal ones as well as the figurative ones) and speak grace and faith-filled words that I just soak up like a sponge.

On Tuesday, I asked Angela, Dodie, and Davita to critique and edit a writing project I've been working on for months now.  They accepted that task like a gift rather than a chore, took it seriously, and offered insights that are making it (and me) better.

On Wednesday, I sent an email to a group of people from all over the country who've been praying with me about a God-sized dream for the past two years.  I had to tell them that I am at a loss, that it's not happening in the way or the timing I pictured, and I honestly don't know when or if it will happen at all.  And, reply after reply returned with words of hope and love and support, pouring grace like a salve into the tender places of my soul.

On Thursday, I began to panic because the moving company I've hired to move me in 3 days - a holiday, in the rain - has been unreachable and won't confirm the move.  I put out a request for helpers, and enough people stepped up that I'm actually wishing I'd just called my friends first.

And now, it's Friday.  And I'm sitting here reflecting on all of these things and a million other mental snap shots from the week (like long overdue hugs, funny texts from people who know me well, lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in 14 years, the camaraderie around our pastoral meeting table ...), and I'm looking forward to celebrating Erin's birthday this evening surrounded by our people and realizing that my "tank" is very, very full today.

I am people rich.

Two Years Later

I woke up feeling a little funky yesterday morning.  I don't think about Commons Church or the ache of that ending in my life every day any more.  I haven't cried about it in months.  But, on occasion, the emotions of it come to the surface.

TimeHop reminded me that it was two years to the date of our last worship service there.  Two years ago, I stood in a school cafeteria, singing declarations of God's faithfulness with a stream of tears coursing down my face.  Yesterday, via TimeHop, a simple picture of our logo projected onto a screen with the caption "One more time" put a lump in my throat I worked to swallow past throughout the morning.  It was a necessary ending.  I am in a good place today.  But, yesterday, there was a melancholy funk to all my feels.

One of God's (many) graces to me out of that season is the rich relationships that were forged in the fire of a pain-filled trial.  Even though I hadn't said a word to anyone about what I was feeling, I received text messages from two of those friends, letting me know they were feeling it, too.  It helped. It helped to acknowledge that the grief was real, and that it was shared.  To remember that God walked us into, through, and out of that fire.  Together.

Then, yesterday afternoon, I was invited by our children's pastor at Center Point Church, where I've had the privilege of serving for the past 15 months, to come and visit Beach Club - an after school Bible club for elementary kids.  It was "Great Treasure Day" and they were going to be giving every child a Bible, his or her very own copy of God's Word personalized with a name and prayed over by someone in our congregation.  How could I resist?

I stood at the back of the room, just observing.  Kids running everywhere, gathering close to sing "My heart is Yours, take it all, take it all, Jesus!", wiggling and struggling to stay quiet while they listened to Ms. Janet tell them the story of 8 year old King Josiah who uncovered the great treasure of scripture in his generation, and quoting with Ms. Janet the day's verse, "I rejoice at your word as one who finds great treasure!" Psalm 119:162

At first, I was just taking it all in, but before long, my mind was transported to another school gym, just two years back.  The place our Commons Kids gathered to learn similar ways.  Two years ago, when I looked around that gym one last time, tears stinging my eyes, letting a dream die.  Two years ago when I'd never heard of Beach Club or Ms. Janet ... or Center Point Church!  Two years ago standing there when I could never have imagined standing here -- or wanting to stand here.  Two years ago I prayed, "God, my dreams are small, and I'm clinging to things you're asking me to release.  Out-dream me."  He saw what I couldn't, and He gently began to walk me here.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,

“therefore I will hope in him.”

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,

to the soul who seeks him.

 It is good that one should wait quietly

for the salvation of the Lord.

Lamentations 3:22-26

Draw the Circle

A little over two years ago, my extended family, challenged by my cousin Steven and his wife Daisy, decided to walk through a 40 Day Prayer Challenge based on a book by Mark Batterson called "Draw the Circle."   Each of us selected some very specific things we would commit to pray about, areas in our lives in which we were asking God to move and start a revival in our own hearts.

Someone mentioned that book to me last week, and this week, with so much time on my hands (thanks Texas Snow!), I decided to dig out the prayer journal I was using through that season.  Y'all, God. Is. Faithful.

Not only has He answered the specific things I asked of Him (none in the ways I would have preferred or envisioned at the time), but He is continuing to move and to work and to answer even now.

He put a necessary end to some dreams while stirring up old passions and birthing new dreams in me.  And, as I've pursued those, He has gone far and above to out-dream me -- reminding me once again how much bigger and better His plans are than my wildest dreams.

I know I haven't blogged much lately, but I just needed to take a minute (for anyone who might stumble across this) and say how grateful I am for a God who hears and responds and seems to enjoy delighting His children with very good gifts.

Struggling Behind the Smile

In light of the recent death of actor/comedian Robin Williams, there's been a lot written today about depression and suicide prevention and reaching out, and I think it's all a very important conversation to have openly, especially with those you love.

As someone known for her quick smile, a loud laugh, and a wide circle of good friends, it's often difficult for others to believe that I have also limped through some frighteningly dark seasons. My heart goes out to those who struggle in secret. I am grateful for wise and godly counselors (yes, the professional kind), for long-suffering and compassionate friends, and for the lamp of God's Word. One of the verses that frequently offered me hope during my darkest days comes from Isaiah 50:10. In the Amplified Bible, it says ...

"Who is among you who [reverently] fears the Lord, who obeys the voice of His Servant, yet who walks in darkness and deep trouble and has no shining splendor [in his heart]? Let him rely on, trust in, and be confident in the name of the Lord, and let him lean upon and be supported by his God."

The day I first read this verse, it was like a glimmer of light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.  For months, I'd felt weighed down by a sadness that would not lift, numb to the joys of life or relationships, unable to focus or concentrate on my work, and despairing about the future.  I had lost any desire or ability to pull myself out of it, and I was starting to believe the rest of life was going to just creep along in the same dull gray haze.

There was (and is!) so much comfort for me in knowing that the Bible acknowledges the fact that one can reverently fear and obey the Lord yet still walk in darkness and deep trouble without joy of heart. And, the only answer is to just believe God right there in the darkness.  I sat alone, on the floor in my bedroom with my Bible open in my lap, tears falling on the page as I read and re-read that hope.  "let him lean upon and be supported by his God."  Leaning was about all I felt like I could manage at that point, so lean I did.  

What did that look like practically?  It looked like getting help from a professional.  It looked like acknowledging to myself and those close to me that I was not okay and I was not going to get to okay without help.  It looked like letting the tears fall and trusting God to catch them rather than bottling them all up and masking everything with a fake "fine."  It looked like giving up all my pretense of bringing anything to the table with God and just falling hard into His arms of grace, allowing myself to believe that my Heavenly Father loved and accepted me wholeheartedly for no other reason than that I was His.  I rested.  My mind, body, and soul rested.  

The healing did not come all at once.  It didn't even come quickly.  It came, as most of life does, day by day. Moment by moment.  Grace by grace. 

I write today because I am saddened but not shocked by the death of Robin Williams.  I write today to say that nobody is beyond the struggle.  Nobody is exempt from life's pain or being pulled under by the sadness.  And, I write today because I found hope in my most desperate hour, and it is a hope that is available to any who would claim it.  Our God is a God of light and grace and healing.  I write today because I am living proof that you can lean fully into Him and you will not fall.  It will not always hurt.  It will not always be dark. Seasons are just seasons.  They always pass.  

Make My Heart Believe

A little over two years ago, I wrote this after receiving word that a man I loved and respected was battling cancer. Today, he won that battle, taking his last breath on this earth and his next in the very presence of Jesus. I am awash today with emotions -- heartbreak for those who love him knowing they will ache for him until they can join him and rejoicing that he is whole and strong and fully Home.  And, while I struggle to find words, and tears roll freely down my face, this song I heard for the first time this weekend is helping me worship, giving words to my praise and my prayers ...
Jesus Is Better
written by Aaron Ivey and Brett Land
(c) 2013 Austin Stone Music (ASCAP).
There is no other so sure and steady, my hope is held in your hand
When castles crumble and breath is fleeting, upon this rock I will stand
Upon this rock I will stand

Glory, glory, we have no other king
But Jesus Lord of all
Raise the anthem, our loudest praises ring
We crown Him Lord of all

Your kindly rule has shattered and broken the curse of sin's tyranny
My life is hidden 'neath Heaven's shadow, Your crimson flood covers me
Your crimson flood covers me

Glory, glory, we have no other king
But Jesus Lord of all
Raise the anthem, our loudest praises ring
We crown Him Lord of all

In all my sorrows, Jesus is better - make my heart believe
In all my victories, Jesus is better - make my heart believe
Than any comfort, Jesus is better - make my heart believe
More than all riches, Jesus is better - make my heart believe
Our souls declaring, Jesus is better - make my heart believe
Our song eternal, Jesus is better - make my heart believe

Glory, glory, we have no other king
But Jesus Lord of all

Glory, glory, we have no other king
But Jesus Lord of all
Raise the anthem, our loudest praises ring
We crown Him Lord of all

Glory, glory, we have no other king
But Jesus Lord of all
Raise the anthem, our loudest praises ring
We crown Him Lord of all

Isaiah 30:18 Amplified

And therefore the Lord [earnestly] waits [expecting, looking, and longing] to be gracious to you; and therefore He lifts Himself up, that He may have mercy on you and show loving-kindness to you. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) are all those who [earnestly] wait for Him, who expect and look and long for Him [for His victory, His favor, His love, His peace, His joy, and His matchless, unbroken companionship]!

Isaiah 30:18

The Real Deal

Unbroken - Mike Fechner from Pantego Bible Church on Vimeo.

In my first memory of Mike Fechner, I am a terrified middle school student visiting "youth choir" at this giant church called Prestonwood.  Mike is sitting at the front of the room talking brashly and irreverently about choir tour pranks.  I am definitely steering clear of that guy!

A couple of years later, I'm babysitting three of his kids, including a newborn, and the only instructions are "As long as everyone's still alive when we get home, you get paid." 

And, then, I'm a junior in high school, and I'm in a car full of church kids armed with a trunk full of toilet paper and up to no good.  As we, and the three cars behind us, pile out into the Fechner's front hard to begin draping it in toilet paper, the sprinklers unexpectedly come on (it was 11:00 o'clock at night!), and from somewhere in the bushes, Mike appears with a water hose and douses those not quick enough to get out of the way.

Of course, there were also the Monday nights spent volunteering with Bridge Builders, the ministry Mike and his wife founded to serve one of the poorest areas of Dallas.  There were the pre-mission trip concerts staged in those very "depressed" areas -- where joy abounded.  There was my first mission trip roommate, Velma, Mike's sister in the faith and partner in ministry at Bridge Builders. 

And,  throughout those very impressionable years, there were countless conversations about life and faith and making your life match your talk coming from a man who'd left a lucrative business to pursue God's call on his life into full time ministry in some of America's most downtrodden neighborhoods.

15 years later, I was sitting in my office at Cornerstone Assistance Network, when my boss brought through a tour from another local ministry.  I hear him say "And this is Kristen Horton, our director of volunteers," and I looked up to see three precious faces peering through my door: Velma, Mike, and Laura!  There were the warmest of hugs and the sweetest words of encouragement.  

Mike battled cancer for nearly 5 years, fought hard, and glorified Jesus every step of the way.  There are men and women who are worshiping and will be worshiping Jesus alongside him in heaven because he turned the cancer ward of MD Anderson Medical Center into what he called "Chemo Church" a place where people were prayed with and for, heard the Gospel, and met Jesus afresh.  

He was funny.  And joyful.  He was faith-filled and faithful.  He was honest and consistent.  And he loved with a genuine compassion that is difficult to put into words. 

This morning, as I absorb the news that Mike is no longer alive on this earth, but is worshiping in the very presence of the God he loved and served, as all of these snapshots of memories flood my heart and mind, and one sentence persists: Mike Fechner was the real deal.

I am grateful to have known Mike.  I am thankful that his life and legacy will continue to impact this world for generations to come.

And His mercy is on those who fear Him From generation to generation. Luke 1:50

When Joy and Grief Collide

A brokenhearted woman learns she is not carrying a much-desired child the same week she hosts a baby shower for one who wasn't even trying to conceive.

A wife and mother receives a clean pathology report the same week a brave warrior receives a final, terminal diagnosis.

Senseless tragedy claims lives far too young the same week one who is prepared to die is granted a reprieve.

Grief and joy.

Joy and grief.

How often our hearts must embrace both simultaneously.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Romans 12:15

I've struggled with this for a long time.  How could I laugh with delight over the blessing of one friend while carrying the weight of sadness for another friend's loss?

There is a time for every thing, and a season for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1

But what about when the seasons collide?  What about the mornings when you wake up rejoicing over the news you were longing to receive only to turn on the television and be devastated by news of the latest tragedy?  What about when the joy over the beginning of one season necessitates the painful relinquishment of a passing season?

Joy and grief.

Grief and joy.

This is the constant tension I've felt recently.  I, who prefer to neatly label and file my experiences, have found blessing and brokenness coinciding far too often for my liking.  And, I've found I cannot set aside the negative emotions in favor of the pleasant ones.  I have to feel them both ... or feel nothing at all.

... we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.  Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord.  We live by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:4-7

The longing, the discomfort, it's evidence.  It's a promise.  It's the recognition that things are not as they should, not as they will be.  It's the Spirit reminding us that this is a temporary home.  The grief is only for a moment, the joy goes on and on.

Courage and Fear

Courage: to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. ~ Brene Brown 

When I first began this journey toward international foster parenting, I was so excited about the ways I sensed God leading me ... about finding something that seemed like such a perfect fit for me, about the opportunity to fulfill a dream ... I didn't give fear much thought.  Sure, I believed there would be difficulties and challenges along the way, but that was to be expected.  I had never been a fearful person.

Then I went to my first pre-service training class, (aka: Mommy School).  There are 12 total Mommy School classes, offered two at a time on Saturdays.  I missed the first week, so I jumped in on week two.  Less than a week into my journey, I found myself sitting in a class titled "Refugee Mental Health and Responding to Sexual Trauma."  No problem, I thought.  I've got this.  I could teach this.  I'm a professional.  I sat, I listened, and I began to doubt.  Talking to grown women in my office is not the same as comforting, shepherding, parenting traumatized teens in my home.  I went home and ran my fastest (don't even ask how slow that is) mile yet, and followed it up with a big bowl of ice cream.  

Then I began looking for a home, believing that a permanent residence is the best way to truly build a stable environment for this strange new family to grow.  I did my pre-qualification paperwork, contacted an acquaintance who is also a real estate agent, and set out to look at potential homes in my price range.  Then I came back and crunched some numbers.  And took a second job.  And kept crunching.  And packing pb&j for lunch, and trying to ignore all of my friends and family members whose homes seemed to "break" this summer to the tune of giant, unexpected bills that sounded terrifying.

Then I started working on the paperwork to incorporate a non-profit organization called Mariposa House Ministires.  That came with lots and lots of tiny print, tax codes, legalese, financial and policy questions I suddenly felt completely incompetent to address. 12 years working in nonprofit world suddenly felt inconsequential. What was I thinking?

Then it was Back-to-School time for our clients at work, and thinking it would be "fun" practice, I agreed to shop for three teenage girls who'd been adopted by generous donors.  School supplies, shoes, and a first-day outfit for each.  Trying to find trendy yet appropriate attire in the junior's section about put me over the edge.  And all I could think was, "I'm only looking for one outfit right now ... for girls I've never met, girls who won't be able to argue back at me about it.  Next year, I'll be shopping for wardrobes of clothes in this department with girls who will surely have opinions about my choices."  It was enough to make me consider withdrawing my application altogether.

Add to all of those experiences the number of times a week I hear a woman say, "I just don't know how single moms do it ... I just don't know how I'd have gotten through it without my husband ... I can't imagine trying to do all this without a supportive spouse," and it's truly a wonder nobody's found me huddled in a fetal position in a corner somewhere.  I shiver.

I don't feel like I know much about courage.  I do feel like I am learning a lot about fear.  But, if by chance, courage truly is telling the story of who you are with your whole heart ... Or, perhaps, it's as simple as moving forward, afraid ... then yes, I am learning.

“Sing, O  barren, You  who  have not borne! Break forth into singing, and cry aloud, You  who  have not labored with child! For more  are  the children of the desolate Than the children of the married woman,” says the  Lord . “Enlarge  the place of your tent, And let them stretch out the curtains of your dwellings; Do not spare; Lengthen your cords, And strengthen your stakes. For you shall expand to the right and to the left, And your descendants will  inherit the nations, And make the desolate cities inhabited. “Do  not fear, for you will not be ashamed; Neither be disgraced, for you will not be put to shame; For you will forget the shame of your youth, And will not remember the reproach of your widowhood anymore. For your Maker  is  your husband, The  Lord  of hosts  is  His name; And your Redeemer  is  the Holy One of Israel; He is called  the God of the whole earth."

Isaiah 54:1-5

Why I'm Going to Jail

There's this thing I pray, something I've said so many times that it's almost more habit than heart.  God, teach me to love what you love and to hate what you hate.

I've prayed it for years, and honestly, as I've wrestled with habitual sins, selfish attitudes, and a rebellious spirit, I've often wondered whether it was a waste of breath.  Maybe I was just not capable of developing a heart that truly craved the things that God loves.  

This year started out messy.  

On January 1, I helped some of my dearest friends pack up their home to move away.  They were following God's call on their lives, and rarely has an occasion been so truly bitter and sweet for me.  

Two and a half months later, in March, Commons Church held it's final worship service. The number one thing I'd poured myself into for a majority of the previous three years was over.  I still don't have the right words to articulate that loss, and as much as I want to be, I'm not finished grieving it either.   

Then, in April, an innocent enough text message turned my world inside out again.  "Soo...I may have accidentally got you roped into potentially becoming a foster parent ..."  Claire had no idea I'd been praying for wisdom about what to do with the growing desire in me to foster.  Two weeks later, I was in my first (of many) pre-service training class for International Foster Care. That led to many other things, including working toward becoming a homeowner and incorporating Mariposa House Ministries.  

Finally, in May, I was asked if I'd be willing to go with part of Cornerstone's reentry team into Tarrant County Jail and talk to inmates about the value of mentoring and the importance of truly allowing themselves to be mentored.  

It's August now.  My savings toward a down payment on a home is growing.  I am four hours away from completing 40 hours of pre-service foster care training.  Mariposa House Ministries, Inc is registered with the state and soon to be registered with the federal government, too.  And, I'm one ID badge away from going to jail.  

As I sat in a jail orientation meeting on Saturday morning, I couldn't help but think, "What in the WORLD have I gotten myself into?  I don't want to go to jail!  This is crazy."  I love ex-cons, trust me.  I'm great with them on this side of jail.  I love it when they come to CWJC or I get to visit with them in the waiting area of our Welcome Center at Cornerstone. I get so excited when God opens doors and gives them a second chance at life.  But go? To jail?  Then, Chaplain Barrett began to quote Matthew 25, For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ 

And, he just had to add, "PRISON MINISTRY IS ONE OF A HANDFUL OF THINGS ABOUT WHICH JESUS SAYS, 'I TAKE THIS PERSONALLY.'"  I literally sat up at that.  Put my feet on the floor, straightened my back, and leaned forward.  And, slowly, the beginnings of excitement for this new task began to push the apprehension back a bit.

This morning, as I dutifully prayed, "God, teach me to love what you love ..." I had one of those epiphany moments as He whispered over me, "I am, child.  I am."  You see, He loves orphans and prisoners!  And, guess what I'm learning to do?  Love orphans and prisoners! He's teaching me.  He's turning my world upside down and inside out for them.  He's stretching me far beyond my natural reach with the supernatural power of His Spirit.  He's answering my prayer.

There's still five months left in this year, and I've been wondering all along what exactly I'll remember about 2013.  Will I remember how much it hurt in the beginning?  Will I remember how many tears I cried in front of others because my grief was too big to hide?  Will I remember how I struggled to find a new church home?  How I constantly battled fears of inadequacy and failure as I launched into dreams far too big for me?  

But, maybe, just maybe ... I'll remember 2013 as the year God answered my prayer and taught me to love what He loves. 

God of "Yes" as well as "No"

There's a prayer that I've been repeating a lot lately.

God, help me to be thankful for all the times you've said "No" as readily as I am thankful for every time you say "Yes."

It's a discipline.  It's a developed response to the natural grumbling of my heart.  To the natural distrust of my flesh.  To the serpent in the Garden, "Did God really say ... ?"

On the good days, I'm certain.  I'm confident.  I know.  I believe without hesitation that God is good.  That every "No" (especially to what looks good and pleasing in my eyes) has provided opportunity for Him to say "Yes" to something better, something good, pleasing and perfect in His eyes.

Then there are days like today.  Today is a whiny, grumbling, spiritual temper tantrum sort of day.  Today is a day full of doubt and questions, of second-guessing.  "God, I could have written this story so much better."  That's what my flesh is stomping up and down to say. Today is a day when the way He's clearly pointed is not the way I want to go, and I do not feel sure He's going to actually make something beautiful out of the ashes I've offered Him.  There's stuff laying on the altar that I'd really rather not leave there, stuff to which I'd rather cling.

The great thing is, my attitude doesn't change the facts.  No matter how I feel about it, today is still grace.  There is goodness in the "No", in the sacrifice of good for best, and in the call to wait and trust.

I am whiny some of the time ... God is good all of the time.

Already All I Need

I heard this song for the first time today. But, its message resonates deeply with lessons the Lord has been teaching me about Himself and His provision in my life.

 

Song: Already all I need
Artist: Christy Nockels
Album: Into the glorious
------
Asking where You are Lord, wondering where You've been
Is like standing in a hurricane trying to find the wind
And hoping for Your mercy to meet me where I am
Is forgetting that your thoughts for me outnumber the sand.

You filled the sun with morning light
You bid the moon to lead the night
You clothe the lilies bright and beautiful.

You're already all I need
Already everything that I could hope for
You're already all I need
You've already set me, already making me more like you
You're already all I need
Jesus, You're already all I need.

Walking through this life without your freedom in my heart
Is like holding onto shackles, that You have torn apart
So remind me of your promises and all that You have done
In this world I will have trouble, but You have overcome

And every gift that I receive, You determine just for me
But nothing I desire compares to You

You're already all I need
Already everything that I could hope for
You're already all I need
You've already set me, already making me more like you
You're already all I need
Jesus, You're already all I need.

In your fullness, You're my all in all
And in your healing, I'm forever made whole
And in your freedom, Your love overflows and carries me
You carry me, yes You carry me, You carry me

You're already all I need
Already everything that I could hope for
You're already all I need
You've already set me, already making me more like you
You're already all I need
Jesus, You're already all I need.
Already all I need

You Can't Skip to Fine

I'm grieving.

I could use a less dramatic sounding term, but it would not fully encapsulate the truth.

The church that I have loved and poured myself out for in the last three years will have its final worship service in two weeks, and I am grieving.

I am grieving that it won't ever be all that I dreamed it would be.
I am grieving that I won't have a place to belong on Sunday mornings for a while.
I am grieving that, right or wrong, it feels like all that I invested of myself is lost.
I am grieving that God chose to answer my prayers differently from what I hoped.
I am grieving the friendships and relationships that have been lost, strained, or broken.

I am grieving.

And, as you know, grief is unpredictable and irrational.  It strikes unexpectedly, rolls over you like a tidal wave knocking you off your feet, doubles you over like a sucker punch to the gut at an unanticipated trigger.  It ruins the carefully painted mask you wear. It steals the words right out of your mouth.

You want to know what I hate most about grief?  You can't skip to fine.  I know I will be fine, but I'm not today.  I know that one morning, I'll wake up and it won't hurt as bad.  I'll make it an entire week without crying about it.  I'll remember with a smile, not sadness, and I'll begin to see fruit coming from what I thought was a barren crop. I will be fine.

But, I can't skip to fine.

Fine is on the other side of the mountain, and the only way over it is one step at a time.  So, I'm praying for wisdom on the way.  To harvest every possible lesson.  To find every hidden blessing.  To bear the soul markings of this journey gracefully.  To walk gently with others whose grief is the same yet wholly different.

A Garment of Praise

... the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness ... Isaiah 61:3

These last few weeks (months?) have been heavy.  Weighty.

This morning, as I headed to work, I really didn't feel ready.  I felt the weight of the last few weeks.  The heaviness.  I thought about my regularly scheduled life, and the thought felt overwhelming somehow. These are not unfamiliar thoughts for me.  As I got into my car, I sensed one of those gloomy seasons drawing close, lurking nearby.

I turned the radio off as I sat in traffic, and I listened to the silence.  That's when I heard it.  A line from a very old song I haven't sung since I was a girl took up a refrain in my thoughts.  "Put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness, lift up your voice to God ..."

It's very difficult to praise God and stay gloomy.  It just is.  So, right there in my car, sitting in rush hour traffic, I began to dress myself in the garment of praise.  I thanked God for the day, praised Him for who He is, recounted to myself all of the ways He's been faithful to me.  And I couldn't help but feel like the the gloom was pushed back.

When I got to work, I googled the phrase "garment of praise."  I knew it came from scripture, but I couldn't remember where.  This is what I found.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, 

Because the Lord has anointed Me To preach good tidings to the poor; 

He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, 

To proclaim liberty to the captives, 

And the opening of the prison to those who are bound; 

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord , 

And the day of vengeance of our God; 

To comfort all who mourn, 

To console those who mourn in Zion, 

To give them beauty for ashes, 

The oil of joy for mourning, 

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; 

That they may be called trees of righteousness, 

The planting of the Lord , 

that He may be glorified.”  

Isaiah 61:1-3

Isaiah 58:6-14, KRH Style

My own paraphrase of Isaiah 58. 

"Is not this the fast that I choose: 

Here's the kind of worship I'd rather you practice:

to loose the bonds of wickedness, 

to undo the straps of the yoke, 

to let the oppressed go free, 

and to break every yoke? 

Repent from your sin, cast off its shackles;

proclaim freedom from the Law that binds people,

teach them about the Grace that saved you!

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry 

and bring the homeless poor into your house; 

when you see the naked, to cover him, 

and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?

Give to those in need. Give till it costs you something. 

Give when it's uncomfortable, even awkward;

and be especially good to your own family, to those you've taken for granted. 

Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, 

and your healing shall spring up speedily; 

your righteousness shall go before you; 

the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. 

When you do the things that please Me, 

that's when the darkness lifts and the light shines.

You begin to feel whole in a hurry, 

and you experience the freedom of being in right standing with Me 

and enjoying My presence. 

Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; 

you shall cry, and he will say, "Here I am." 

If you take away the yoke from your midst, 

the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, 

if you pour yourself out for the hungry 

and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, 

then shall your light rise in the darkness 

and your gloom be as the noonday. 

That's when you'll call, and you'll be able to hear Me answer.

Stop putting your own rules on yourself and others;

stop placing blame and sinning with your words.

Put your energy into feeding the hungry

and caring for the needy.

That's when the darkness lifts and the light shines.

And the Lord will guide you continually 

and satisfy your desire in scorched places 

and make your bones strong; 

and you shall be like a watered garden, 

like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail. 

And, I'll guide you.  I'll always show you the next step.

I'll quench your thirst even in the dry places, 

And I'll strengthen you beyond reason.

You'll flourish so much with growth and fruit, 

you'll be vibrant, and you'll always have enough to share.

And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; 

you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; 

you shall be called the repairer of the breach, 

the restorer of streets to dwell in. 

And, the places you thought broken beyond repair and forgotten will be rebuilt;

You'll be part of building a foundation for generations you'll never meet;

You'll be known as the one who stood in the gap,

The one who revealed Kingdom community where people live.

"If you turn back your foot from the Sabbath, 

from doing your pleasure on my holy day, 

and call the Sabbath a delight 

and the holy day of the Lord honorable; 

if you honor it, not going your own ways, 

or seeking your own pleasure, or talking idly; 

then you shall take delight in the Lord , 

and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; 

I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, 

for the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

If you quit using My day for your own pleasure,

expecting it to be about what you want and think you need,

but rather take it seriously as time of rest and worship,

then you'll begin to delight again in Me.

I'll give you pleasure and energy like you've never known,

I'll feed you with riches and abundance you've never dreamed of.

That's My heart for you.  What I promise, I do.

Good and Near and Broken

The nearness of God is my good. Psalm 73:28

God is near to the brokenhearted. Psalm 34:18

A broken and contrite heart, He will not despise. Psalm 51:17

A broken heart is good.

This train of thought plays out in my mind daily it seems.  When my thoughts are wracked with disappointment that life hasn't turned out the way I wanted or planned for it to go, as I am driven to my knees desperate to hear the voice and sense the presence and maybe, just maybe, catch a glimpse of the hand of God over my circumstances, then I know.

The one who comes to Him must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him diligently. Hebrews 11:6

"I am your very great Reward." Genesis 15:1

God's economy.  It's not mine.  He doesn't measure time or good or reward as I would.  He knows better.  He knows best.  There will be blessing, but I am reminded today that sometimes blessing is brokenness.

Reminders

I keep a playlist on my Spotify account called "Reminders", songs full of the Biblical truth that I need to hear to drive out the lies I'm prone to believe.  I've been listening to that playlist a lot lately as life has felt a little overwhelming.  I think it's amusing, though, how often I'm surprised by just how plainly these songs speak into my circumstances.  I catch myself thinking, "Man, I really needed to hear that today," and then I laugh.  Well, duh! That's why it's called "Reminders."

Today, as I sat at my desk, weariness and stress bearing down on me, I heard these lyrics:

So many times I question certain circumstances
and things I could not understand.
Many times in trials my weakness blurs my vision
and that’s when my frustration gets so out of hand.
It's then I am reminded, I've never been forsaken.
I've never had to stand one test alone.
As I look at all the victories, the Spirit rises up in me.
And It's through the fire my weakness is made strong.
He never promised that the cross would not get heavy
and the hill would not be hard to climb.
He never offered a victory without fighting.
He said help would always come in time.
Just remember when you're standing in the valley of decision
and the adversary says give in, Just hold on.

Our Lord will show up
and He will take you through the fire again

Through the Fire -- Jason Crabb

When you go through deep waters,

I will be with you.

When you go through rivers of difficulty,

you will not drown.

When you walk through the fire of oppression,

you will not be burned up;

the flames will not consume you.

Isaiah 43:2

The Mystery

A holiday boyfriend, a token black girl, two generic Asians, and a gay woman with a disability sit down to dinner...

It sounds like the beginning of a really good, probably uncomfortably inappropriate, politically (in)correct joke, doesn't it?  It's actually the table I've been dreaming of this morning.  It's an imagined table of some of very dear friends.

I love my birth family, the ones who look and sound and think like me. The ones who get to call me by a familiar nickname.  I look forward to Thanksgiving with them this week, the laughing loudly, the talking rapidly over one another, the recalling and retelling of family folklore, the enjoying foods I crave all year long.

I am also keenly aware this week that I have an incredible faith family.

My faith family is the group of people that come together not because of shared history or culture or family tree.  We are united simply and powerfully by a common Spirit.  The Spirit of God dwells in each of us by grace through faith, and that Spirit unites us in purpose and calling and overcomes a multitude of barriers. In my mind's eye, I picture that very diverse table, and I do not see what an outsider would see.  I do not see color, label, marital status, ability, or ethnicity.  I see my brothers and sisters, those who labor alongside me for the sake of the Gospel that more would come to the Table. And, I rejoice.  My heart swells when I think that infinitely-wise God saw fit to count me among them.

The mystery is that people who have never heard of God and those who have heard of him all their lives ... stand on the same ground before God. They get the same offer, same help, same promises in Christ Jesus. The Message is accessible and welcoming to everyone, across the board. 

Ephesians 3:5-6 (MSG)

A Second Chance

This week, I heard from a friend with whom I haven't spoken in close to 5 years.  She was once a daily part of my life, the person I went to when my heart was broken and I couldn't stop the tears.  She was the one who took it upon herself to defend my sanity and confront that boy who'd handled my heart so carelessly.  She has a laugh that rivals my own in volume, and she is a worshipper with the voice of an angel.

This week, when she contacted me, she had to reintroduce herself.  Her number was unknown to my phone.  With over a thousand names in my phone, hers was missing.  Seems so strange when I think of it now.

I'm not sure how to explain why we lost touch.  All the usual excuses I guess.  Life.  Moves.  Marriage.  Kids.  And, honestly, hurts.  My feelings got hurt (probably hers did, too), and it seemed easier to let life get in the way than do the work to repair the damage.

The funny thing is, when I saw her name, it was as though I could hear her voice, so familiar.  I knew she'd gone out of her way to make an effort, and I could no longer remember why I let go.  It didn't matter.  My friend, my close friend, was reaching out, and I wanted to know her again.  I wanted to hear about her life, her family, her heart.

Most people would say I'm good at relationships. The getting to know people, the making memories, the being personal and personable, the keeping in touch.  It comes naturally most of the time.  I genuinely like people, find being with others energizing.  But, I have a few regrets.  People I let go of too easily.  Ones for whom I did not fight more fiercely.  This week, I feel as though I've been given a rare second chance to love well, and I intend to make the most of it.

In the Silence

I've had laryngitis for three and a half weeks now.  That's right, a sore throat and the inability to speak clearly.  It's varied at times from just a deep, rough sounding hoarseness to little more than a wheeze of air passing through my larynx.  First, it was strep, and the doctor treated that.  Then, a week later, when I was congested and still couldn't talk, it was a sinus infection, and he treated that.  A week later, when I went back to him feeling well, breathing fairly well, and still not able to make much of a sound at all with my speaking voice, he threw his hands in the air and referred me to a specialist.  We'll see how that goes.

In the mean time, lots of tepid water, hot herbal teas, lozenges, all kinds of over-the-counter allergy meds, and ... silence.  That's right, vocal rest.  Don't talk.  Even when you have some voice, don't use it.  Those vocal cords are angry.  They're inflamed and tired of being beaten with all of your coughing and wheezing and clearing of the throat and whispering.  Just stop talking.

Some of you are laughing right now.  Smiling, at least.  I know.  Kristen Horton can't talk.  It's funny.  I get it.  I really do.  I've laughed at myself plenty.

And, because I only blog about things that make me cry, I must confess I've also cried.  Sometimes it's just so dadgum frustrating to not be able to make yourself understood plainly.  And sometimes, a girl just wants to talk. She has things to say, probably not important things but things.  Usually funny things.  Or thoughts about her day.  Or insight to add to a conversation.  Things, I tell ya!

But, alas, I'm doing my best to be a good patient, hoping this passes sooner than later.  And, doing my best to learn from the silence. So far, I've learned that I talk a lot.  I've learned that I don't feel like a matter is settled until I've verbalized it to someone outside my own head.  I've learned that even though I'm not good at it, I really like to sing.  I've learned that other people are not nearly as uncomfortable with silence as I am.  I've learned that when I know I can't say anything back, I am a much more engaged listener.  I listen to hear what someone else is saying rather than anticipating my next opportunity to be heard.

And, I've learned that I have a choice to make.  I can waste the silence, filling my time watching television or playing games on my phone.  I can fill the silence with noise that has no value.  Or, I can use the silence.  I can listen for that still, small Voice that calls me to intercession.  I can speak to the only One who can hear me right now, present my prayers and petitions with thanksgiving.  I can love others well by carrying them to Jesus.  I can read and meditate and memorize Scripture and fill all those spaces in my head with wisdom and encouragement and truth and life-giving Words.  I can throw a pity party and grumble in my spirit against this unplanned, ill-timed silence.  Or, I can praise God for the rest and the peace and the opportunity to hear all the things I might have otherwise missed without the silence.