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You Won’t Forget Me?

20120829-184437-3“You’re coming back tomorrow, aren’t you?” Miranda looked at me anxiously, almost daring me to say no.

“Yes, I’m coming back tomorrow,” I reassured her.

“You promise? You won’t forget me?” My heart stopped as I caught a glimpse of vulnerability in her face for just a brief moment.

How could I forget this independent and willful twelve-year-old girl with the flashing dark eyes? Though I had only just met Miranda that day at the Christian children’s home in southeast Asia, my heart was already connected with her.

Miranda had lived at this home for abused and neglected children for a few years already, with her older brother and sister. She tried to give a tough image, boasting about fights she got into with her friends when they made her mad. But in my brief time with her on that first day, as we played Scrabble in the library of the children’s home, Miranda began to let down her guard a bit. Each time she spelled out a new word on the board, she grew in confidence. She even smiled a few times!

But when she asked me to promise that I would come back, I hesitated. I didn’t know how to respond. Though I don’t know Miranda’s whole story, I know that these children at the home have experienced much rejection, disappointment, and hurt in their young lives. The last thing a girl like Miranda needs is more broken promises.

I was planning to come back the next day, but what if something happened and I couldn’t keep my promise? Though I wanted to assure Miranda that I would never disappoint her, that would be unfair to her. The fact is, I’m human. Even with the best of intentions, at some point I probably WILL disappoint others.

The best thing I can do for Miranda is to point her to the One who will never disappoint her. Only God will never break His promises. Even when others fail, He will never let her down. Psalm 105:8 says “He remembers his covenant forever, the word he commanded, for a thousand generations” (NIV).

“You won’t forget me?” Miranda was still waiting.

“I won’t forget you,” I smiled. “I will see you tomorrow.” And I prayed silently that the Lord would give me the words to communicate with this precious girl of the faithfulness and love of her Heavenly Father – the One who will never forget her.

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Hope Deferred

img_3602-2“What’s wrong with your hand, Miss J?”

It’s the beginning of the school week, and this four-year-old with the platinum blonde curls and intensely serious blue eyes is very concerned about the stiff black brace strapped on my right hand.

“My wrist hurts me sometimes,” I explain as I kneel down to her eye level. “This brace keeps it still so it doesn’t hurt as much.”

She takes this bit of information in solemnly, then pronounces with confidence, “It will be better tomorrow. I’ll pray for you, and Jesus will make it better.” And she turns and trots off down the hall to her classroom.

As I straighten up and return to my work at the photocopier in the teachers’ lounge, I massage my right thumb absently, letting out my breath in a long sigh.

“Tendonitis,” the hand and wrist specialist had said. Inflamed tendons in the thumb and wrist, leading all the way up to the elbow, caused by “repetitive movement strain.”

“This is not just going to go away,” he pronounced. “A simple surgery is your best option…”

Surgery is the last thing I want to do. So I ask my students for volunteers to write on the board for me. I try to remember to open doorknobs with my left hand.

Sometimes it doesn’t bother me for days or weeks. But then I pick up a pencil I dropped on the floor, and a shooting pain stops me in my tracks for a few agonizing seconds. And with the pain comes the all-too familiar discouragement.

“It’s never going to heal,” I think glumly. “It’s been a year and a half already, and so many people have prayed for me, but nothing’s changed. This is my reality now.”

The next time I see my bold little prayer warrior, her eyes hone in on my black wrist brace. “I prayed for your hand – is it better now?” she asks eagerly.

What can I say? How can I tell her that I’ve stopped praying? How can I tell her that I’ve stopped believing God will heal me?

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” says Proverbs 13:12. That’s me. I’ve given up hope. I can’t handle more disappointment.

I feel like the father of the boy with seizures in Mark 9, who brings his son to Jesus for healing. “If you are able to do anything…” When Jesus confronts the man’s lack of faith, immediately he calls out “I believe – help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:22-24, NRSV).

Even if my wrist is never healed on this earth, even if I have to wear this wrist brace my whole life, even if I never understand it all until I get to heaven, I can still choose to put my hope in God. I can choose to trust Him. He cares about my wrist. But even more than that, He cares about my heart. And that’s what needs healing.

Those big blue eyes of my four-year-old prayer warrior are still looking up at me, expectantly. “Did Jesus heal it?”

“Thank you so much for praying for me!” I tell her, giving her a hug. “I know Jesus is healing it.”

With a satisfied smile, she runs off. And a tiny spark of hope is growing in my heart. Because Jesus IS healing me – starting with my heart.

What about you? Has your heart been disappointed? Have you felt that God isn’t answering your prayers? Have you given up hope? Ask God to begin healing your heart today. He will. But you have to make that choice.

Going Vertical!

MJ

“I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:5

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Grace for Today

20121105-133449“You know how people say that you forget the pain of childbirth? Well, it’s not true!” Jennifer laughed. “I definitely remember it! And I didn’t think I would be able to bear it.”

Baby Libby cooed, and Jennifer continued, a smile in her voice. “But you know, I didn’t have the grace to go through labor the day before Libby was born. I didn’t even have the grace for it ten minutes before the labor started. But when the moment came, God gave me the strength to get through it. It was hard. It was painful. But I had the grace when I needed it.”

This secret of God’s dispensation of grace at just the right moment is something my friend Jennifer has experienced over and over again the last several years. Her first child, little Libby Anne Hope, was named in honor of Jennifer’s sister, who had died tragically in a car accident seven months earlier. Since then, Jennifer’s had four more children, some with special needs and medical complications. She’s walked through a young son’s chemotherapy treatments for cancer. She’s spent many many nights and days in the emergency room and intensive care unit of hospitals.

And she’ll be the first to say it hasn’t been easy. There have been times of anger, fear, hopelessness, feeling abandoned and forgotten by God. But through it all, she’s clung to God’s promise – “My grace is sufficient for you” (II Cor 12:8).

When I look at my future and start worrying about how I’ll be able to handle the hard things that are surely ahead, Jennifer’s words echo in my head. No, I don’t have the grace for the pain of childbirth yet. I don’t have the strength for caring for a sick child, or the fortitude to deal with the grief of a painful loss. Because I’m not there yet. I don’t have grace for tomorrow. I don’t have grace for next week. I don’t have grace for 5 minutes from now. Not yet. But I will. When I get there. And not before.

Whatever it is you’re facing, or worrying about, and wondering how on earth you can possibly get through, just know that when you get to that point, the grace will be there. Trust Him for TODAY. And leave tomorrow to His care.

Going Vertical!
MJ

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
Matthew 6:34, NIV

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Please Understand Me!

20121218-004030Abuela! She’s alone – what if something happens to her? It was my responsibility to care for my 101-year-old grandmother, who I call “Abuela” (grandma in Spanish). But in a moment of distraction, I’d left her unattended. And now an inexplicable sudden fear makes me rush back to the room, just in time to see her trying to get up from the wheelchair on frail, weak legs. As she wavers and starts to fall, I realize I won’t reach her in time. I try to call to her, but the words get stuck in my throat. “Abue-”

I wake myself up with the strangled cry. Sitting up in bed, I stare into the darkness, still shaking. It was just a dream, I whisper into the empty room. Just a dream.

My family recently made the very difficult and emotional decision to move my 101-yr-old grandmother into a Christian nursing home in another state, closer to more of the family. Debilitating strokes had left Abuela unable to dress herself or use the restroom unaided. A simple transfer from the bed to the wheelchair could take two or three people on an especially weak day. And the memory loss and confusion of developing dementia meant she had to be monitored constantly. We loved having her with us. But after four and a half years of caring for her daily needs, it got to be too much. It was time for a change.

Though all the extended family agree this is the best decision, I still struggle with feeling guilty. It feels like we are abandoning Abuela. Every concerned look from friends, every sympathizing smile, every “how are you doing – really?” seems to confirm my underlying fear of being judged and misunderstood.

Jesus knows what it’s like to be judged and misunderstood. Even His closest friends couldn’t see what His true purpose was. They were waiting for Him to overthrow the Roman government and establish His reign on earth. Many times Jesus asked them, “Do you still not see or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear?” (Mark 16:17-18, NIV).

Yet Jesus never lost sight of His purpose. John tells us that He “knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God.” Even faced with the judgement, betrayal and abandonment of His friends, Christ drew strength from knowing He had the approval and acceptance of His heavenly Father.

Am I willing to be misunderstood? With vivid images of the traumatic dream still before me, I struggle with my condemning thoughts in the wee hours of the morning. Even if others don’t agree with the decision my family made to move Abuela to a nursing home, can I let it go? Once again, there alone in the dark, I decide to release my feelings of guilt, self-condemnation, judgement, and fear of others’ opinions. I give it all to the One who sees all, knows all, and does not judge me. He is the only One who truly understands me.

Going vertical!
MJ

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The Weakest Link

20130701-223005It’s a simple thing. Something I’ve done thousands of times. But today it takes all my energy to turn the key in the ignition of my car. The first attempt twists my wrapped and splinted wrist in a way that sends shooting pain towards my elbow. I drop the injured hand to my lap and wait a few seconds for the throbbing to subside. Then I awkwardly stretch my left arm across my body and around the steering wheel to turn the key with my left hand. The engine finally roars to life, and I slump back in my seat, relieved. I’m sweating and I haven’t even left the parking lot yet.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but sometime in the last few weeks I must have strained my wrist when lifting heavy trays of food or carrying stacks of dirty dishes at my summer catering job. The little every-day activities – chopping an avocado for guacamole, swiping my card for a Guatemalan brew at my favorite coffee shop – have suddenly become difficult and painful endeavors. And now I’m supposed to wear a splint to keep the wrist still and allow the joints and tendons to recover.

What amazes me is how this little pulled tendon in my wrist has such rippling repercussions. Each time I turn a doorknob or pour a glass of orange juice, my neck and shoulder muscles automatically tense up, my body tilts to shift weight to the left side, and my limbs contort in unnatural positions to avoid unnecessary strain on the “weak link.”

It gets me thinking of that passage in the Bible where Paul is comparing the followers of Jesus to a human body. He explains: ‘The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” …If one part suffers, every part suffers with it” (I Cor. 12:21, 26, NIV).

Just as the rest of my body can’t ignore my injured wrist and go on with life as usual, so I can’t ignore the hurts of my brothers and sisters in Christ, fellow members of the Body. The book of Hebrews tells us to “remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering” (Heb. 13:2, NIV).

So how can I help support the “weaker members” of the Body? I can pray for the pastor imprisoned in Iran, as if his chains were around my ankles. I can write to the widowed woman in Vietnam, reminding her that she is not forgotten. And I can put my arms around the tired young mom who sits two rows behind me in church, being a friend and a listening ear when she feels discouraged and alone.

Is there a hurting member of the Body that you can pray for, support, and encourage today? Give away what you’ve received! Share the GOOD NEWS of hope and healing with someone else today – so that the Body can be whole and healthy and working as it should!

Going Vertical!
MJ

“But God has put the body together, …so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.”
(I Corinthians 12:24-25, NIV)

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Called by Name

20130709-162243“As I watched my father’s mistress put her suitcases in his car, an animal rage came over me. I felt I could tear her apart with my hands.” Yagmur, tall and elegant with perfectly styled blond hair, spoke evenly to the audience in the church, but the pain of that childhood memory was evident. “That day I made a decision to hate my father for the rest of my life.”

Yagmur’s mother was also angry, and took out her anger in the form of physical abuse toward her daughter. “As a young girl, I had scars and bruises all over my body from my mother’s beatings. I hated my father for his unfaithfulness. And I hated my mother for her helplessness.”

“Every day my mother told me I was ugly and stupid,” Yagmur continued. “Faith comes through hearing. And I started to believe in what I was hearing.” Escaping to her room and pulling the blankets over her head, Yagmur would dream of being a beautiful princess in a long, sparkling gown. And she would imagine her mother and father smiling at her, proudly. She longed for their love.

Immediately after college, she married a charming and passionate young man, desperate to escape the abuse and pain of her home life. But soon another nightmare began. Her husband began beating her too, accusing her of unfaithfulness, demanding to know why she was a few minutes late coming home from work.

Then one day her husband held a knife to her throat, insisting that she jump out of an eighth-story window. Yagmur clung to his ankles, sobbing and pleading for her life until he let her go.

In desperation, Yagmur fled to the U.S. to start a new life. But when her second husband’s drug abuse got out of control, she found herself becoming more and more hopeless, wanting to end her life. “There is hatred and pain everywhere I go,” she thought in despair. “I can’t escape.”

Eventually Yagmur found a job working for a Christian company. Wanting to impress the boss, she joined the early-morning Bible study at the office. They were reading the story of Jesus’ encounter with the adulterous woman. Yagmur couldn’t help blurting out, “Why did he forgive her? She was not worthy to be forgiven!”

“None of us are worthy,” a co-worker explained. “But Jesus forgives us because he loves us. Even if that woman had been the only person on the earth, Jesus still would have come to earth for her and died in her place, because he loves her.”

“I was that unworthy woman,” she recalled. All the shame of her childhood, the memories of being called ugly and stupid, the feeling of being worthless, the abuse of her marriages, the abandonment and emptiness and thoughts of suicide – it all culminated one day in a desperate cry in the office restroom. “Help me, God! Have mercy! I need You!” As she dried her eyes and walked to her desk, she wondered if He even heard her.

Before she could even get back to work, Yagmur’s boss called her urgently to his office. “I’ve never done this before,” he explained hesitantly. “But I feel Jesus prompting me strongly that I need to tell you something. He says that He has heard your prayer in the bathroom. He saw you when you were a little girl. He’s been with you all this time. And He loves you and forgives you.”

Yagmur crumpled to the carpet, weeping. “Do you want Jesus to be your Lord and Savior?” Her boss was asking kindly. “YES! YES! YES!” She sobbed. Finally she had found the love she had been searching for.

Eventually Yagmur was able to forgive her father and mother for all the pain they caused her for so many years. And today Yagmur has a ministry of bringing hope and healing to girls and women around the world, through TV programming and radio broadcasts. “You are loved. You are valued. You are beautiful,” she tells them. “God has a plan for your future. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope.” She knows it is true – she is living proof.

Going Vertical!
MJ

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine.”
Isaiah 43:1b (NRSV)

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Hard Things

running-1090940-m1I hate running. Sorry, but it’s the truth.

When I hear friends talk about the “adrenaline rush” of running a half-marathon, I’m convinced that they’re not fully human. What normal human being would willingly put themselves through the punishing physical torture of pounding the pavement mile after mile? It’s not right.

Now I consider myself to be in pretty good shape. I rarely eat fried food, desserts, or red meat. I enjoy biking, or walking forest trails, and I have even been known to jump “double-dutch” with my students at recess! But recently I was appalled that my favorite black dress pants have started getting a wee bit too snug. So with the motivation of fitting in my bridesmaid’s dress for a friend’s wedding next month, I drag myself out of bed this Saturday morning, put on my tennis shoes, and head outside for some exercise.

There’s a refreshing hint of fall in the air, and I fill my lungs deeply as I start off on a light jog. After just a few minutes, however, I’m already panting for breath. I tell myself, “I’ll only go to the next lamp-post, and then I can stop.” But at the next lamp-post, I decide that I’ll go to the lake. “I’m almost to the end of this street,” I think when I get to the lake. “I’ll just round the corner and go a bit more.”

By this point, old ladies walking their poodles could easily overtake my painfully slow pace. And I avoid eye contact with any serious runners I encounter, embarrassed at my wheezing and puffing. My lungs feel like they’re going to explode, and my legs feel like jello.

Around the bend, I finally see it – the river pier. Out of somewhere deep within me comes a sudden final burst of energy. I find myself picking up the pace. “I’m almost there! I’m actually going to make it!” It seems there should be a marching band and helium balloons in honor of my accomplishment. At the end of the pier, I pause for a moment to soak in the morning sun sparkling over the still water. For one who despises running, I’ve just proven that miracles do happen – I CAN run.

Now this isn’t one of those underdog stories where I suddenly am able to compete in the Ironman triathlon. I doubt I’ll ever really ENJOY running. It still seems like cruel and unusual punishment. And it’s definitely not in my nature to keep doing something that’s painful and uncomfortable.

But I hate to say it – running is actually biblical. Paul writes in I Corinthians about “running to get the prize”. He says he “beats” or “punishes” his body, because it’s all part of his training (I Cor. 9:27). I can relate to that. Multiple times during my short run, I came very close to stopping. I started to feel sorry for myself, and felt like I “deserved” a break. It would have been so much easier to just stop.

Don’t we often feel that way when we’re faced with hard things? That nasty co-worker who seems set to make your life miserable. The difficult child who tests every boundary you set. The family member who knows exactly which buttons to push to get you riled up. Jesus never promised us that life would be easy. In fact, He assures us the opposite – “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33, NIV).

Life is tough sometimes. But we can’t just sit it out because it’s too hard. So we press on. We forgive those who have offended us. We confront in love. We ask for grace in our difficult relationships, not responding out of anger or hurt, but out of a heart of forgiveness and freedom. Not because it’s easy. But because our Coach, our loving Heavenly Father, has already run the path ahead of us. He’s cheering us on. And it’s His whisper in our hearts that says, “Just a little bit more. You can do it. You’re almost Home.”

Going Vertical!
MJ

“Like an athlete I punish my body, treating it roughly, training it to do what it should, not what it wants to. Otherwise I fear that after enlisting others for the race, I myself might be declared unfit and ordered to stand aside.”
1 Corinthians 9:27 (TLB)

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Private Grief

 

20130501-133140Dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, Bella apologized for her tears. “I’m sorry for unloading on you. It’s just been so hard recently.”

Two miscarriages in the last few months had left her raw. And as the wife of someone in church leadership, it seemed she had no one to talk to about it. “Unless you’ve lost a baby, you can’t understand how how much it hurts,” Bella explained. “And well-meaning people can say such insensitive things.”

All I could do was listen and cry with her. “It’s so hard to trust God in all of this,”
Bella confided before we said goodbye. “But I just have to believe that He’s doing something good in me in the process.”

Here’s the rest of the story, in Bella’s own words.

I hit bottom on my first baby’s due date. I felt so discouraged. Nine months, two lost babies, and still empty-handed. And now I was scared that not only would I have to deal with losses, but would I now have to deal with infertility again?

I remember one day having a very honest conversation with the Lord. I told Him that I was angry, frustrated, and tired. I felt that I was coming to a place where this burden of pain and loss was more than I could bear. I wanted this season of pain to be over. And I told Him I was so disappointed that I didn’t get pregnant, and to please have mercy on me.

And in that moment I felt His presence so strong with me. I heard Him tell me to just hang on a little longer, that this season would soon be over, and that He was holding me by my hand and would not let me go. I also felt Him say that I didn’t conceive because He was answering the very thing I had asked Him, and that was to not allow it to happen until it was His time. But then I heard Him say that my time was coming very soon and to just be patient.

I felt such a peace come over me about having another baby and the timing. Even the way I felt about the babies I lost… God gave me such a peace about that. There is no way to explain what He did. It was completely effortless on my part. I just felt different. I felt such a healing work from the Lord. It was like although He knew already what I was feeling and thinking, I needed to be honest with Him and myself first.

That night that we spoke, I didn’t know yet, but a few days later I found out that I am expecting again! Naturally I am nervous, but I must say that I feel different than with the last pregnancies I lost, especially the second one. With that second one I lost, I was in a constant state of anxiety, panic, and worry. I knew something was wrong, and I felt completely helpless to save my baby.

So here I am now, expecting again. Hopeful, but cautious. I know I have a long road ahead of me before I can feel completely at ease about whether this baby will make it. But I am trusting in the Lord. I know He is with me.

Do you have a secret pain? A private grief? Your secret pain doesn’t have to consume you. Give it to Him today. Let Him hold you and give you His peace in the midst of it. And trust Him to do something good in you and through you in the process.

Going Vertical!
MJ

“You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”
Genesis 16:13 (NIV)

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Temper Tantrums

450232_arkan_screaming“NOOOOO!!!!” The happy hum of preschoolers enjoying their snacks is instantly shattered by three-year-old Thomas’ screams of rage.
“I don’t WANT you to put the straw in my juice! I can do it MYSELF!!!” Crossing his arms, Thomas glares at me. “I’m MAD at you!”

It’s going to be a long day. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. This is more than I bargained for when I agreed to sub for the three-year-old preschool class today.

All day long, Thomas throws screaming fits when something is not exactly to his liking. “But I don’t WANT to color the T!” “I don’t WANT to sit next to Samuel!” “He’s touching MY crayon!” “NOOOOOO!!!!!” I’ve never seen a preschooler put in time out or sent to the principal’s office so many times in one day.

“Thomas’ family just moved to the area,” the other preschool teacher explains to me in a whisper. “His dad’s in the military and gone a lot. Plus his mom just had a new baby. He’s mad at the world right now.”

My heart goes out to this angry little boy, but I don’t know how to handle his fits of rage. So I start to ignore Thomas. When Allison needs help with her letter T worksheet, I gladly show her what to do. When Gregory wants me to read to him, I pull him onto my lap and cheerfully start “Curious George at the Dentist.” But I avoid even looking at Thomas, afraid that the smallest thing might set him off.
Almost done, I sigh with relief at the end of the day. We are letting the kids run off some energy in the gym before their parents pick them up. Like clockwork, after a few minutes Thomas plops down in the middle of the gym and screams, for no apparent reason. None of the other kids seem concerned.

This little boy needs a lot of love, I realize with a pang. He needs consequences too, but if I only give him attention when he does something wrong, isn’t that just reinforcing his bad behavior?

I don’t really want to do it. But I know I need to. I walk over to him and force myself to smile.

“Thomas, would you like me to swing you around?” He looks up, surprised, and agrees hesitantly. I pick him up, and he quickly wraps his legs around my waist and holds tightly to my neck.

“Ready?” I ask. He nods. As I start spinning around, I’m surprised by a sound I haven’t heard all day. I stop and look at Thomas. He’s actually giggling!

“Want to do it again?” He grins. Once more I spin around, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until we’re both dizzy and laughing. Amazing. Thomas isn’t throwing fits. And I’m actually enjoying myself!

As the preschoolers gather their coats and backpacks for the carpool line, I think of another friend in my life who sometimes acts like Thomas. Deeply wounded by life’s hurts and disappointments, she reacts in anger, verbally attacking anyone who comes near. Recently I’ve started to avoid contact with her completely. To keep from being hurt, I’ve been withdrawing from the relationship.

But aren’t there times when I, too, react out of pain and anger, hurting those around me? Yet the Heavenly Father always takes an interest in me. Not because I’m always acting lovable. But because He loves me unconditionally. Right then I decide to make an effort to reach out to my friend. Because I’ve been forgiven, I can forgive. Because I’ve been given grace, I can extend grace. Because I am loved, I can love.

Do you know someone who is throwing a tantrum at life’s injustice? Do you have a friend who’s been hurt deeply and is lashing out in pain? Though the temptation is to back away from someone like that, consider how you can reach out to that person this week. Even a screaming fit of rage is no match for forgiving, grace-filled, unconditional love.

Going Vertical!
MJ

“But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.”
Psalm 86:15 (NIV)

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The Secret Power of Tears

20130218-212130“I love how much you cry.” Heather gave me a sheepish grin. Outspoken and straightforward, Heather was one of the thirteen foreign English teachers at this Fresh Start retreat in East Asia. I was drawn to her adventurous spirit and appreciated her questions and perspective.

“Well, I certainly cry a lot,” I said half-apologetically. I couldn’t tell if Heather was teasing me. She had a great sense of humor and was always laughing at something.

“I think it’s great!” Heather assured me. “Seeing you cry as you share your stories makes me feel like its ok for me to cry.”

I was taken aback. Heather gives the impression of being pretty tough. An outdoors girl. Athletic. Adventurous. No-nonsense. Not one that strikes me as needing permission to cry.

I don’t usually think of my tears as a good thing. No matter how many times I share about going through a period of severe burnout and depression a few years ago, the tears always flow when I get to certain parts of the story. Some of it is still painful to talk about. And I’m often embarrassed at my sniffling and nose-blowing and snotty tissues. I worry at times that people will think I’m being overly emotional. I’m tempted to think I should compose myself and cover up my tears. In Psalm 56:8, it says God collects our tears in a bottle. For my tears, I think He needs an Olympic-sized swimming pool!

Yet because I was willing to be vulnerable in sharing my emotions and some of the painful parts of my past, Heather realized she didn’t have to keep her tears hidden. She was able to honestly begin to face her hurts and let the healing process begin.

Our Heavenly Father sees your tears. He knows your pain. He cares about your heart. Don’t be afraid to be real with God. Begin to process the issues of your heart today!

Going Vertical!
MJ

“Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high. My intercessor is my friend as my eyes pour out tears to God, on behalf of a man he pleads with God as one pleads for a friend.”
Job 16:19-21, NIV