Thursday, March 6, 2014

Bigger Picture Moments: I will not wallow; but I will linger

I couldn't understand at the beginning of the week why I felt out of sorts -- struggling with old problems once resolved both physically and emotionally, fighting against the giants of fear and anxiety that I once slung rocks at and hit square in the forehead, boldly announcing that I would walk in the courage of faith.

I went to bed Tuesday night and slept wild and dreamed wilder, and I woke up the next morning with a sense that all of yesterday's issues had followed me into that very day.

And I was done; I didn't want to bring the hard into the new; I wanted to leave it all where I feel like it belonged -- in the past where I didn't have to look it square in the face again.

I determined that morning that God's mercies are new, and I would see those mercies, a fresh gift whiter than the fresh snow covering the ground. I would not allow yesterday to slow me down because I refused to wallow.

Which all sounds noble and strong and courageous until you are reminded that courage and strong and noble are only born truly out of abiding.

Wouldn't it be simpler had my word for the year just been courageous? Why did I have to have double words this year? Abiding is much harder than being courageous. Abiding is actually harder than most any other things I could "do" or "be."

A friend reminded me that morning after she had read my presumptuous victory march that sometimes we deal with the same things over and over and over again until we truly are healed from the wounds we've suffered.

And sometimes healing doesn't look like we think it will look or should look or does look.

Sometimes healing looks different than what we thought.

It wasn't lost on me when she reminded me that we were standing in the same week this year that we were standing in last year when we found out of Selah had slipped into Heaven after just three short months in my womb.

My body and my mind remembered, but would I slow down enough to remember and honor and turn over the hurts and even the healing that's happened during the past year to my Healer?

And it certainly wasn't lost on me that every single big-ticket meeting I was supposed to be at this week had been cancelled.

It had been brewing for weeks, like tea bags dripping into water beneath a hot summer sun, the whisper I heard the Spirit speaking into my heart to slow down and make room for Him

more of Him.

I finally decided that Wednesday to act on it -- to make room and space for Him

and for what He wanted to do inside my heart.

I'd been asking for healing of the anxieties that swell in my heart at times and asking for healing of the physical annoyances that bother me and asking for healing for the parts of my heart that still feel tender to the touch, though they are not open and gapping and weeping.

And He kept saying to me to believe. And so I believed, and I wondered why the healing didn't come as I expected-- miraculous and instantaneous. I finally cried out Tuesday night and asked what I was doing wrong.

You see the thing about believing is that I'm having a hard time believing without really abiding.

He's been inviting me to abide -- to remove the distractions that stand in the way of truly abiding in Him so that I might believe, perhaps even so that healing might come in the very way I didn't expect it.

So, there is this:

I will not wallow in the grief or in the fear or in the anxiety.

But I will linger for longer than what is comfortable in the discomforts of those parts of life that still hurt.

And I will pick up those pieces that felt like they were sheered right off of my still-beating heart, and instead of ignoring them, I will give them to you, Lord, to do what you will.

And I will ask You to heal those wounds and realize that sometimes healing won't look like that heart being put back together in the same shape that it once was

because it is now a heart that has been broken

by the hurts of this life

... just like yours.

And I will recognize that a heart broken is still one that beats

just differently so.

I will not wallow, but I will linger.

And I will abide.

For the entire span of lent, I'll be posting extremely sporadically. Thanks for being here. Thanks for reading. 


  1. This is exactly where I'm at too! Resting on His promises of healing today.

  2. Oh, this was beautiful and perfect. Abiding...I love it!


There's nothing better than good conversation ... but not while talking to myself. Will you play a part in this discussion?

AND will you pretty please have your email linked to your account or leave it for me so I can respond?

Thanks for taking the time to make these thoughts into conversation.