“And He took him aside from the multitude, put His finger in his ears,
and He spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, He sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,”
that is, “Be opened.” (Mark 7:33, 34 NKJV)
Prior to this verse, Jesus had gone to the region of Tyre
and Sidon. Having arrived there, He goes into a private home wanting “no one to know.” But, it says, “He
could not be hidden.” For a Gentile woman, having a demon-possessed daughter,
found out where He was and persistently begged Him to heal her; cutting short His
privacy. (Mark 7:24, 25 NKJV)
Now He’s traveled back through the region of Decapolis, where previously
His fame exploded where in the midst of seeking solitude and rest, the multitude pursued
Him and He wound up spending the entire day healing and feeding 5000 plus people.
Now, while looking for space again, He has yet another
multitude hot on His heels begging for healing. He heals. But in the midst of it,
when they bring a deaf/mute to Him, He curiously “took him aside.”
Why?
According to Matthew’s account this wasn’t the only
person with a similar issue. What was different? Why the unusual treatment?
And why does Mark’s record add that after Jesus spits and
puts His fingers in the man’s ears, He looks up to heaven, and sighs?
The word sigh in this passage means: to make, or be in
straits; to murmur; to pray inaudibly, with the connotation of grieving or
groaning. It’s the same word used when it speaks of the Spirit’s groanings in
Romans 8:26:
“Likewise the Spirit
also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we
ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which
cannot be uttered.”
Here’s what I think.
Jesus is tapped.
He’s
dog-tired and doesn’t know how to pray for this one, even though He’s been
healing many to this point. Once again,
rest and the need for quiet have eluded Him.
He’s had to deal with power going out of Him during ministry;
and He’s weak and speechless. And in that
place, Jesus looked up to heaven, and breathed a groaning prayer: He sighed, and
the man was healed.
What an encouragement!
Although I haven’t been in the place of administering
healing to thousands, I have given of myself, been past tired, and in need of
solitude, just to have it interrupted, time and again.
And my Jesus, being 100% human when He walked this earth doing
all He did, says to me in this passage, “I completely understand weakness and
the need for solitude. Keep following Me. And when you are worn out, and have
no words, look to heaven, breathe a sigh, and watch what I will do.”
you have two choices: Regret or Redemption" ~ The Hospital Mom
On January 27, 1999 the unthinkable became our reality. Our pink and precious daughter of 6 months suffered a massive mid-cerebral arterial stroke. The main artery between her spine and her brain had become blocked from a blood clot at the juncture where it splits into the left and right hemispheres. Worldwide, 1 in 25,000 live births will suffer a stroke each year.
The years that have followed have been tumultuous. Doctors, therapies, drug studies, seizures, and surgeries. There are times where I felt I have earned doctoral degrees in Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, Pharmacology, Neurology, Developmental Pediatrics and Child Psychology from the Mother's Medical Institute.
At any moment I can walk into an emergency room and speak in medical terms with any nurse, doctor or specialist. Pity the poor nurse who argued with me that my child could not possibly have suffered a stroke. "Children do not have strokes," she said with condescending authority.
Ashley was having seizures and I walked into the emergency room in Tulsa, Oklahoma telling the medical team what she needed. I had been on the phone with her neurologist and we agreed I could transport her to the hospital quicker than an ambulance could find me - plus I was already in the car and on my way - and he would meet me there.
My dad met us at the hospital and while he entertained my 25 month old daughter, I politely asked the nurse to step outside the room. "Never tell a parent in front of a child that they are making up a diagnosis, especially one this horrid," I said with the indignation of a mom who was living the unimaginable. The nurse continued to argue with me as the doctor approached and I told her to go pull up the MRI and CT scans from the past 2 years. "I will," she assured me and stomped off, hands on her hips. And she did. The neurologist arrived, treatment began and later, he brought a very apologetic nurse into the room and assured her that infants do indeed have strokes.
That night I realized that parents must be advocates for their children. As the years passed, I learned most parents are so intimated by the medical process, hospital personnel and are simply overwhelmed by their situation that they are afraid to speak up. They will accept whatever is told them and not ask questions, advocate for help or seek solutions for their children.
I have worked with families in numerous settings - adult education centers, as a parent advocate in schools, at church and as a chaplain. The redemption of Ashley's story is in sharing the wisdom, education and experiences we have gained in this struggle. Parents of chronically medically challenged children are more likely to divorce, have extra-marital affairs and battle addictions. As their world centers around their children, hospitals and the medical world, they withdraw into themselves and face depression while living in a constant state of regret - the "would of, could of, should of" state of mind.
Our purpose is simple:
To provide Hope and Humor to Families of Chronically Medically Challenged Children.
Answering Emails of Hurting Families at Kim@hospitalmom.net
H.O.P.E. Delivery Bags for Caregivers at Hospitals
Currently, I am writing a book to bring Hope to Families. The following is an excerpt from "Beautifully Complicated," the story of redeeming the hurt in our lives in order "to Know HIM and Make HIM Known."
from BEAUTIFULLY COMPLICATED
“This is my Father’s World
and to my listening ears
All nature sings and ‘round me rings
The beauty of the sphere.”
Eighteen years ago I first sang this song to my infant baby girl. Born early - eager to change our world. Born tiny - proving size does not matter. Born the baby sister - her brother in love with her before she was before. Born a surprise - her daddy named her the moment he saw the positive pregnancy test.
“This is my Father’s World
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees; of skies and seas
His hand the wonders wrought.”
Fifteen times I have laid her on an operating table and sang those words in her ear as she drifted to sleep. Sometimes easily. Sometimes fearfully, gripping my hand. Sometimes I have had tears in own voice and many times, I have sang to a room full of surgeons and technicians who came to the operating theater because they had heard of this family who sang before surgery and wanted to experience the peace that is in the room.
Three times I have sang this hymn in the surgery waiting room because that facility did not allow me to accompany her into the operating room.
Eighteen surgeries.
Thousands of miles driven in rain, snow, sunshine and shadow.
Months our family has lived apart - separated by 8 hours and the Rocky Mountains.
Dozens of professionals. Hundreds of medications. Thousands of phone calls to doctors. Ten Thousands of hours in research by specialists and parents.
Millions of prayers raised by family, friends and even strangers.
This indeed is My Father's World. The Unthinkable will happen because this world is in a fallen state where the sin of mankind has brought heartache. Yet God redeems the pain of our fallen state to help each other. When we help each other that pain becomes bearable, even manageable as we allow Him to reveal His glory as we live other lives for others.
“This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!”
Are you living the Unthinkable?
Where you never dreamed you would be?
Are you living in Regret - depressed, lonely, self-pity - or in Redemption?
As you listen to the song below, go to God in Prayer and
The other day, I had a hard and messy conversation with an
individual regarding their dissatisfaction with the church, and what they felt
was wrong with it. The truth is I was hurt and very frustrated, as this wasn’t
the first time I’d been approached with the same thing. However, after I allowed myself the shabby process of
sorting out my raw emotions with God and my husband, the Lord reminded of II
Corinthians 5:17-21:
“Therefore,
if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away;
behold, all things have become new. Now all things are of God, who has
reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of
reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to
Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the
word of reconciliation. Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God
were pleading through us: we implore you on Christ’s behalf, be reconciled to
God. For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the
righteousness of God in Him.”
I realized if things
were the way He intended in the beginning, there would be no need for our
administrating reconciliation. For when things are reconciled, they are
back to the way they were created to be.
When Christ was here He waded through enormous dysfunction
with people’s perceptions of what He needed to do to make things right – in the
synagogues; with the Pharisees and crowds; with the twelve men He hand-picked
to journey with Him; even with his mother and siblings. And though
Scripture doesn’t give much detail about His childhood, I can’t help but think
there was a lot of muddling He had to endure just being a kid and teenager.
We want things to be neat and tidy; to be okay. And more times
than not, I think that means, the way I
want them to be. We hate the groaning our spirits, bodies and souls experience
when we perceive things are not the way they’re supposed to be. And the last
thing we want to do is stick around and engage in the hard work of restoration.
Several years ago, a wise young man said to me, “Relationships are messy, and no one wants
to get involved in them.” He was right. It’s obvious. When things don’t go
the way we want, our first reaction is to bail…. don’t stick around and muddle
through the mess and confusing in-betweens. It hurts. It’s hard. We have no
promise that we’re going to see resolution. And what’s worse, we have no control
over the outcome, let alone another’s choice.
I completely understand. I’ve bailed more times than I care
to admit. I’ve thrown my hands up in frustration umpteen times, “knowing” for certain
things are never going to change. But if that is true, then this passage of
Scripture isn’t. So today, I am actually thankful for the individual
approaching me. For although the issue was not resolved, I now see I was presented with another opportunity to
use my “ambassador muscles.” God, and this person, trusted me with part of the messy process
of bringing a piece of reconciliation to this beautiful, broken and messy
world. And I am glad I chose to engage in it.
Be joyful always; pray
continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you
in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thess. 5:16-18
NIV
During a recent season of practicing this verse, I started
reading The Hiding Place by Corrie
Ten Boom. This book was the perfect
companion to this season because I was drawn to examine my circumstances. Corrie hid Jewish people in her home during
World War II and later became a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. She lived in daily dread and constant
pressure, yet she allowed her circumstances to reveal God’s power regardless of
the times she had no idea how she was going to do what needed to be done. I have read several secular texts about the
Jewish concentration camps that were grueling to read because they tended to
focus on the evil of humanity (sin). Oddly,
her memoir was a blessing to me because of her perspective to glorify God –
which many times was prompted by her sister, Betsie. Rather than focusing on each set back, each
moment of injustice, the sisters focused on God’s power for daily existence –
truly living out 1 Thess. 5:16-18 – by being joyful always, praying continually
and giving thanks in all circumstances.
This command is simple yet requires a consistent posture, an
intentional effort to make fine-tune adjustments in order to hear from God so
that you may do His will. I have the
luxury of so many choices, so many ways to worship God/not worship God, to be
focused/to be distracted. While I enjoy
my freedom to choose, I also allow that freedom to become an agent for the
enemy. I am ashamed to reveal how I
reposition God to fit my choices. The
result is an entanglement of exhaustive busyness – a “chasing after the wind”
(Ecc. 1:14). The choice to follow Him
requires a keen awareness to the tension needed for stretching my spiritual
muscles. When I am “chasing after the wind” – my choice
is to forego stretching and sag toward complacency, waywardness.
I am in wonderment of the delicate nature of being in God’s
will. At one point in the book, Corrie
and Betsie prayed a simple prayer giving thanks for their latest living
quarters that included a swarm of fleas! At the time, Corrie’s heart was troubled to give thanks for a flea infestation,
but she obeyed God’s command. Later,
Corrie revealed how that horrible flea infestation created hours of opportunity
to freely witness to others since their work station was so badly infested that
even the guards dare not enter. While she and Betsie enjoyed a work detail free
from the harsh watch of guards, they also were constantly flea-bitten! During this time of constant spiritual stretching,
they were continually praying, giving thanks in all circumstances. The practice of continually exercising their
spiritual muscles tapped them into Christ’s power to endure the emotional and
physical torture.
As Christ followers, I
know we are not promised a life of ease; we are however able to stand on
Christ’s promises – of new life, of provision, of perfect timing. I have been in the cycle of the whirl –
chasing the wind – seeking a formula rather than seeking the One who can rescue
me from this cycle.
Corrie’s story is fantastical not because of the suffering
but because of God’s presence in the midst of her suffering. Staying in the presence of God is doable yet
when His presence involves long-suffering, meekness and temperance, I tend to
seek more desirable fruits of the Spirit. I want the love, joy, peace. I
want to pick my own basket of fruit! O, how I stumble – O, how I seek shelter under
God’s veil of mercy. I tell God that I am
His servant yet I balk and tug at the first sign of arduous tasks; I resist
eating fruits of patience and self-control. I resist God’s sovereignty as the
master gardener – the One who prunes, the One who holds the blueprints of my
purpose.
“He cuts off every branch in me
that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful” (John 15:2).
When doing a word study on this verse, I
meditated on the difference between cutting off branches and pruning branches. The cutting off is generally done to branches
that are withered and already dead perhaps never reaching their full
potential. They are cut off from the vine
to allow the remaining branches to bear fruit. Pruning is done to healthy fruit-bearing
branches in order to continue the process of bearing more fruit. Both scenarios are part of the master
gardener’s plan and both scenarios are painful.
Dear Readers, now when fruits of long-suffering, meekness
and temperance are served to me, I fondly think of Corrie and Betsie – sweet sisters
in Christ who I am looking forward to meeting one day in heaven – and quiet my
soul to be joyful always, pray continually and give thanks in all
circumstances.
What do you focus on during the process of pruning and cutting? Are you tempted to "pick your own fruit"?
“Attentiveness is the heart’s stillness, unbroken by any thought.” Hescychios of Sinai “The 'light of the mind' is a metaphor for the ground of awareness showing something of itself to our perception." ( Into The Silent Land by Martin Laird, p. 68) “My soul, wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him.” Psalms 62:5 (NASB)
Along with our friends, Joanna and Bill, my husband Steve and I watched in fascination as the fireworks cascaded up, out and down like an evening candelabra in the sky over Vallecito Lake. We fortuitously parked almost right in back of the launching pad of the fireworks. We agreed afterwards that none of us had been that close to a fireworks display before.
I also experienced a different sensation than ever before, consciously attaching an anthropomorphic personality to individual displays as if they were unique beings. The crowd also reacted similarly, laughing after an elongated firework spun out with an audible sound of a child-like scream. One extended fireworks display cannoning maybe thirty or more red rockets, one after another, left smoke trails which formed a tree with branches and roots.
My focus was drawn to those trails more than the actual fireworks itself.
The present inner theme at work within me the past few months is one of awareness as I observe how the commentary of my thoughts leaves its own trail of "smoke" in my mind. I've performed my own tail spins several times while screaming like a child (though perhaps not as loudly)! And I have realized that my child within is reacting, not so much due to the reality of the present circumstance, but because she is spinning her own tail (and tale!) on a made up "commentary" about that circumstance...the "what ifs" or the misconstrued analysis of a situation that is not true at all. They are thoughts of the thoughts that have not even happened yet, or smoke trails from the past that have followed me into the present. The song “Windmills of Your Mind” had lyrics distinctly describe that idea of cycling thoughts that tease us at times to a point of hopelessness and confusion. The final three lines are below: “…Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel As the images unwind, like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!”
Most of us have at times found our thoughts spinning like windmills in our minds (we know “the wheels are churning”).
Using a scriptural lens as an antidote to this churning, we might think that “bringing every thought captive” would curb our angst, and yet, if we are not aware that our thoughts are really commentaries, and not truth or fact, I wonder if we have to go a little deeper.
I'm slowly reading through the book Into the Silent Land by Martin Laird, whose purpose is to give more in depth understanding of contemplative or centering prayer. Part of the beneficial "side effects" of this type of prayer help us navigate our way into this land of silence and gain awareness of our thoughts. We can choose when the distracting thoughts appear, not so much to dismiss or let go of them, but to be with them, without analyzing them, to meet the disrupting assaults with a "gaze of silence."
It's a fine line...to let go or to just be with our thoughts and still not perseverate on them. Perhaps to be with them is similar to the concept of "letting go of the letting go." It’s a skill to counter our thoughts with the kind of prayer that silence can give, and I’ve learned that it is not easy. But this kind of awareness in silence in prayer overlooks its distracting reaction to the screaming child within, and gives her a hug instead. It does not judge her; it gives her grace.
Do you struggle with your thoughts? How can we walk the fine line between being with our thoughts and obsessing about them?
Ever wonder about WHAT it means to forgive and HOW to actually forgive? In a two-part post “series” I would like to take some time here to “de-mystify” the process.
In my experience, forgiveness always felt elusive. I knew that it was the right thing to do, but I never understood how. In one sense, I understood it was a matter of my will—a matter of forcing my emotions and pain to bow to my will to say that it is ok, what happened didn’t matter, that if I just put on the love of Christ, all will be well and I will be able to forget about what grievance I experienced at the hand of another person. In another sense, I understood it to be some sort of miraculous exchange of my hurt for the love of Christ for whomever it was who had wounded me. Both understandings left me spending copious amounts of time “praying” - which was really just time spent trying to achieve mind over matter, repeating a mantra in my mind similar to “These feelings of pain can’t rule me anymore, these feelings of pain can’t rule me anymore”.
The other thing I believed about forgiveness was that the faster it was achieved, the better. I believed that the more quickly I was able to achieve this “mind-over-matter” state, the happier the Lord would be with me. I believed that God wanted me to get rid of my unforgiveness as quickly as possible. Because of this I feel like I spent much of my life attempting to stuff all these wounds - from childhood into adulthood - because, for me, mind-over-matter was unfortunately unachievable. No matter how hard I white-knuckled it, nothing was changing. The pain was still there. All I was accomplishing was becoming a master at living in a perpetual state of denial.
Then something happened to me. I will not go into detail, but it is enough to know that I was deeply betrayed by someone extremely close to me. Betrayed in a way that my whole world and all I knew, along with all the devices I had used to cope with the pain in my life, were destroyed, and not by my own choosing. Here are a few things that I lost as a result: friends, my home, my job. Not to mention some of the emotional things I had lost: trust, a sense of belonging, a sense of justice, a sense of pure love, and all sense of the false security that I had carefully used to protect my heart my whole life.
So here I was. Faced with forgiveness on a whole different level. A level one-hundred times deeper than any I had faced before. Praise God that He knows us intimately, and He knows exactly what, and WHO we need in our life to help us through when crisis occurs. He did that for me, and here’re a few things I have come to understand about forgiveness:
1.Forgiveness is a process, not a one-off spiritual transaction. We don't need to make it a race to the finish line. I believe it is important to start the process, but not to rush through it. There are so many things to learn about myself and God and others through the process of forgiveness. I do not want to lose that opportunity because of my wrong thinking that God wants this over with as soon as possible, or because I want this over with as soon as possible. It’s hard to sit in our pain, isn’t it? But it is through that very act that healing comes.
2.Forgiveness is a lot more practical than I ever thought. There are actual steps that I can take, with actual exercises and practices that I can adopt, that will walk me through to a place where I am ready to move forward in my life. (More about that in Part 2).
3.Forgiveness really has nothing to do with saying the words “I forgive you.” I used that for years in order to feel like I had really done it. Somehow those three words were supposed to equal spiritual and emotional proof that the elusive and miraculous “transaction” of forgiveness had taken place. Forgiveness is a very individual, inner and private process. Only you can know what it is like to live with the pain you have and know the hard work you have achieved to reach a place where you have forgiven.
4.Forgiveness requires work. Hard work. BUT it is some of the most valuable work I have ever done for myself. The old saying is true: Forgiveness is about letting someone out of prison, only to discover that the someone was you. The brilliant thing is that it really is for me! It is one of the best things I have undertaken to show love and compassion to myself. I saw a strength in me that I never knew that I had!!!
Next month, I will share further some specific steps that you can take to walk through the forgiveness process.
What have you believed to be true about forgiveness and did it hinder the forgiveness process for you?
I am a soldier. I am part of an eternal army. The Commander says, "Go!" I go. And when He says,"Stand," I also obey.
Standing gets wearisome. My muscles ache for action. The sword gets heavy. My biceps long to stretch out and lash the air. My thighs struggle against the weight of my body, longing to spring into action and sprint into battle.
The small of my back seeks to stretch, bend, push against the weight of the world. My arms quiver under the weight of the shield. The helmet of truth is hot and heavy and my tongue pushes against my teeth, longing to shout out in a righteous war cry. My feet are wrapped in readiness to run into battle.
But I stand. Fully dressed. As the Commander as decreed in the Battle Plan of Ephesians 6:13, I take my stand.
Silent. Fighting against my will. My flesh. Battling the very nature that the Commander has placed in me; He requires self control.
The enemy roars.
From his battle line he paces, spewing vile defamation. Accusations. Curses against my leader. Baiting me to battle.
I stand.
The enemy draws closer. I can feel his spit on my brow as in desperation he curses me.
I do not move.
The enemy begins to tremble. The tried-and-tested tactics of the Bully do not work. I am not baited.
I wait for the Battle Commander to blow his trumpet! With sweat in my eyes, the iron taste of blood on my tongue, muscles primed to strike, I wait for the enemy to draw near.
For the Commander is nearer still. And His whisper is greater than the shouts of the accuser.
Nothing frightens the enemy more than an army he cannot predict, manipulate or conjole.
I stand. Ready. The enemy will be defeated in the timing, on the day the Commander decrees if I obey His battle plan.
The enemy I fight most resides in my helmet - my mind. That tells me I am alone. Everyone else has fled. No one stands with me. My vision is obscured from my helmet but I dare not look left or right. I steady my mind with this firm resolve - I will not run from battle nor will I run before I am called.
I am a soldier in the army of the my Lord. I do not stand alone.
I am writing today about this word because I believe it is about to change my life.
Let me explain.
Growing up it has always been very hard for me to be vulnerable. At some point in my childhood I made a decision that the world around me was not safe and that I needed to protect myself. Protecting myself meant I could not be vulnerable, especially around people. So for years I found ways to avoid being in a place of vulnerability.
I would ignore conflict. I would suppress feelings. I would avoid certain relationships. I would distract myself with being busy and producing and being very involved in anything I could get my hands on. I worked hard and often. I filled my social schedule with anything I could put in it. I did everything big. I even filled the air with my own voice, talking so much in the hopes I could drown out anything that would tell me it was OK to slow down enough to be in a vulnerable place.
Sounds exhausting doesn’t it? Well, it was, but let me tell you that what I did as a child and the things I did to protect myself were healthy for me. It was a natural way for me to process all that was happening around me and I’m thankful for it.
But 43 years later, it’s exhausting. I’m done. Cashed in. I can’t do it anymore.
This is a new season of facing the vulnerable parts of who I am and this life I have and it’s time to move forward in a way that is good for me. In a way that is real to the people around me and in a way that is honest about my journey with God.
With this journey I am on The Lord is revealing so much to me as I’ve slowed down. He’s spoken beautiful things, brought back precious memories and allowed me to feel a wide range of feelings I was avoiding for all of these years.
Often when I am in this place I look to Jesus to see His response to the very human things we deal with, the very hard things on this earth. And I had this thought;
When I watched my husband play Jesus in The River Church’s production of The Passion Play, the hardest part of that story for me was when Jesus the Creator of heaven and earth is standing before Pilate and every one is yelling at Him and there is this question as to whether or not they should pick Barabas or Jesus.
My heart aches at this moment every single time. I’m thinking to myself, JESUS! You are GOD! Stand UP! Fight! Do some kind of amazing miracle to save You from this awful fate. Stop them. Change their minds… yell at them! Hit them, run away, and tell them why they are wrong. Tell them who you ARE! Do whatever you have to do to defend Yourself! But He doesn’t. He actually never does. He’s vulnerable. One thing I know about Jesus is His absolute confidence and connectedness to the Father. And I realize the two ingredients Jesus had to always be in a place of vulnerability.
The first is that He was never ashamed of Who He was or what He was there to do. He was present in every moment on earth. He wasn’t distracted or confused. He knew exactly why He was healing, speaking against the Pharisees, challenging the law, and doing things on Sabbath days. He had no shame.
The second is that He knew He was not alone. Even when He begged God to take this cup from Him I believe He knew that God was with Him. He was fully aware of God's presence with Him each and every moment.
If there is power in vulnerability, imagine what that would look like in our families, in our friendships, in our relationships with friends.
What if our language and our conversations with our kids were more compassionate and vulnerable? What if we could actually tell our kids that we were having a hard time feeling some emotions, or even cried in front of them? What if we told our husbands the parts of our hearts we’ve been hiding? What if we could tell our friends that we are having a hard time with our finances or that the thing they said to us the other day hurt us? How would we impact each other? How could we impact our community?
We wouldn’t have to win all the time; we wouldn’t desire so much control over other people. We could “name” what we were struggling with and let people know what we are about to say to them is very hard and difficult to our hearts. We could listen and we could love people despite their inability to know how to love us well.
It would change our lives.
It wouldn’t make life easier, but I believe that as we really pay attention to the sadness and the difficulties, we would also experience a richer, more vibrant joy in powerful vulnerability.
By Jill Palmer Let him struggle
A few years ago I read a story about a man who had found a cocoon on a walk and decided to take it home and watch the miracle unfold. One day he noticed that there was a little hole in it and he watched for hours as the butterfly struggled to find it's way out of the cocoon through this tiny little hole. At some point it seemed to stop progressing so the man figured it had done all it could do and went to find some scissors to help it along.
He carefully snipped off the end of the cocoon and the butterfly easily came out. He was surprised, however, to discover that the butterfly's body was swollen and it's wings were shriveled. He expected the wings to dry out in a few hours but they never did. In fact the butterfly was never able to fly.
You see, the butterfly needed to struggle out of the cocoon because that's what helps transform it into the beautiful, flying miracle that it is. The struggle through the hole helps force the moisture from its wings and also helps strengthen them so they can fly.
I never realized that. I never realized the power of the struggle.
I hate struggling. I hate watching others struggle. It's messy and uncomfortable and painful! When it comes to my own walk with the Lord I just want Him to reveal to me the part of me that needs changing, then I'll acknowledge it and allow Him to change it. Done and done.
Except that's not how it has ever worked. Ever.
It's more like "Okay God, I got this. Thanks for changing me." And two days later I'm frustrated because I'm still not healed/changed/patient etc...
Why?!
Why do I have to struggle through this transformation process? Why can't God just come in with His beautiful, giant, gentle scissors and give me a careful little snip that will help me along? I'm tired and weary and ready to give up! This is painful and exhausting.
But He won't pull out His giant scissors because He loves me. He loves me so much He allows me to struggle. He doesn't want me to die - He wants to see me flourish and fly! He knows that my struggle helps to squeeze out the last bit of the "old" me - the selfish me. He knows that the struggle strengthens my wings and teaches me to fly. He's told me in His Word that I am a new creation and frankly I don't really know how to operate in this new freedom - this new life.
So my struggles teach me. They teach me to rely on Him. They teach me that in my weakness He is strong. They teach me that I am loved and that I have a Maker that knows my name, knows my deepest needs and will take care of me.
It's hard though. Hard to struggle. You know what else is hard? Painfully hard? Watching someone you love deeply struggle. Watching your spouse or child or a dear friend or loved one. Watching them struggle to push themselves through this incredible situation knowing there's not a thing you can do about it. You desperately want to rescue them but if you do that they won't be able to live as the new creation they are. The butterfly can't live it's life to the fullest if it doesn't struggle. It will die because the butterfly wasn't made to crawl around and eat leaves anymore. It was made to fly, to drink from gorgeous flowers, to rise above it's old life.
So you sit back and watch and struggle with the uncomfortableness of it all...as you watch the struggle - and the miracle - unfold. And you know that the Creator of all things knows what's going on. He has His hand right in the middle of it and He can be trusted. Even if the situation looks, and is, painful. He knows what we - and they - need and He hasn't forgotten us.
He sees the final picture. The glorious creation He had in mind. And He smiles because He knows we can and will survive...because of the struggle.
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