This picture represents many things; too many to actually list here probably. But let me give a few examples, such as: a safe (but scary) place, a peaceful (but stormy) place, where I often talk to and listen to God, where I ponder the life of my dad and brother (and many others whose loss has impacted me over the years), a place that reminds me of my grandma (she loved house plants), where the sun can come in to warm me in the winter, and where I write. That last one hit me a little differently today.
Writing has always been a form of therapy for me. I don’t always land on the right answers to my questions. I don’t usually expedite the process in the big scheme of things. But something divine happens when I write. And although I might generally write from my own vantage point, I rarely (if ever) navigate these wobbly steps alone. This week has been an eye-opening reminder of that.
Kenny and I are currently leading a group of approximately 80 people through The Bible Recap at our church. If you aren’t familiar, this is a one-year, chronological read-through and study of the Bible. It’s a huge commitment to say the least (for all of us). As human beings we naturally tend to question our abilities, calling, or purpose. Is this really what I’m supposed to be doing? Aren’t there better writers, speakers, leaders, etc.? It’s so time-consuming. Is this really what I’m supposed to be doing? And I want to do it WELL.
On multiple occasions each day this week I received some type of confirmation that I was in fact doing what God has called me to do. Whether it was a text from someone about what they read that day and how it spoke to them or watching a friend stand in front of a sanctuary full of people to speak at her husband’s funeral, God just kept reaffirming.
I don’t sit in this space in a vacuum. I sit here with all of you. I’m telling my story and I’m telling yours. That’s what is so amazing. God orchestrates each and every note, measure, and line culminating in this incredible and often tragic piece of time that we find ourselves in.
It might sound fairly morbid (or at the very least disconcerting) to discuss “favorite moments”. Loss, grief, hurt, sin, and everything else are hard. They just are. But when I sit and watch what God is doing in the life of that person (and ultimately in me because I’m privileged to be there with them) it stops me in my tracks. I had the opportunity to spend some time with a friend this week in incredibly deep conversation. There were things she’d been harboring in secret for decades. They were holding her hostage. But she has begun the process of letting go of that shame and realizing that her identity in Jesus is so much bigger than anything she’s ever done. And speaking words like that has power and frees us to walk confidently out of that darkness. That’s MY story. And it’s her story. And maybe it’s your story, too.
So back to this picture. I see many things. Some of them good. Some of them not so great. But they’re common to all of us in some way. I believe that’s how God wants it. Sharing our hope with each other. Building each other up. Doing the hard things. Together.
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 ~ Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!