Tag: hope

Posted in Living this Life

Fortress of cards

Posted on by Sara

There is a turn on a long and lonely road that is imprinted on my soul.

It is exactly at the midway point of somewhere  and the middle of nowhere  – 48 miles from the middle of nowhere, to be precise.

This is the spot where I once heard God speak – perhaps the clearest in all my life.

I found myself on that road again recently, and as my eyes took in the vast miles of barenness, my heart remembered.

It was the most loudly whispered “no” I have ever heard. A “no” that still reverberates in my soul and echoes before me.

Let me back up. It had been a long, hard few years. My soul was as barren as the land it was planted in, and I didn’t know what had gone wrong. I mean, I could describe to you the litany of things that had been hard, but what had gone so wrong in my soul that had left me this dry and parched? What darkness had robbed my joy, and how had it gotten in? I needed to know…

After those long, hard few years, God uprooted me and me family, and our feet took us to a land of rolling hills and green. As we made our home in this new space, my soul began to heal. I found rest – I found myself again. The layers of pain and hard began to peel away and I began to feel alive again.

But I couldn’t shake the question that had been planted in my soul all those years: “what darkness had robbed my joy, and how had it gotten in?” I felt if I could only find the answer to that question, it would be the final key to my healing. The naked truth is – I wanted the control of knowing I could keep it from coming back. If I could only figure out what had gone wrong, I could formulate a life where the darkness could no longer get in, with walls of my own self-will keeping it out.

No matter how peaceful and beautiful life was, there was a constant nagging – like an itch in the back of my soul – that I wasn’t really safe until I knew the answer to that question. What if that darkness crept back in? How would I keep it out? I was desperate to protect myself.

Then that day arrived. The day I was to return to the place where my spirit had been held captive. It was just a visit – and yet the fear was overwhelming. Because God hadn’t answered my cry yet. And I didn’t feel like I could go back to that place – to walk those painful memories – without knowing the key to protecting my vulnerable heart.

The car slowed as it arrived at the town that was the midway point – and then we turned left. I stared out the window – at the flat, barren, red richness of that beautiful land, and my heart screamed at Him in silent desperation: “I need to know NOW! We are out of time. I can’t go back there without an answer…” And that is when He finally spoke.

It was a simple “NO”.

It was a “No” that set me free.

It was as clear to me as if Jesus was sitting next to me in that car. His next words that echoed loudly in my mind were this: “You don’t need to know why. What you need to know is: I was with you”. And that is all He spoke, on that day while we drove on that long and dusty road. Because that is all I needed to hear.

It was a “No” that set me free.

It was in that moment I saw the chains of control that had formed around my heart. He shone His light on the illusion that we can really protect ourselves, and showed me where true safety lies. True peace. True light. I had built a fortress of cards around my heart, thinking it would withstand the hurricane of life – and He needed me to know that the only safe harbor is Him. That in my darkest place, when I forgot who I was, HE never forgot. He never abandoned me. He didn’t expect me get it together and come back to Him when I was fixed … He was with me in it all. “Your walls are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16) “ See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:16)

Let me be clear. It is one thing to acknowledge that our peace, our joy, or safety doesn’t come from our physical circumstances. But there is another distinction that must be made, and it is this: We say we trust Jesus – but what we mean is that we trust what Jesus will do for us. We ask Him for help – we say we trust Him to provide. But what if His provision is simply His presence?

Let’s back up a few thousand years – to an old man in a desert, arguing with the God of the Universe over the disobedience of a throng of people that God  has relentlessly saved. God has finally decided to send them on their way without Him; nonetheless, He wouldn’t abandon them alone in the desert. He promised to provide for them, to send an angel to walk with them and protect them … aren’t these the very things, the provision and safety, that our needy hearts yearn for?  And yet Moses knew so much more than we do, and he pleaded with God, “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here…” (Ex 33:15)

Let’s race forward 400 years, to David, the man after God’s own heart. The man who knew from experience that even in “the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Ps 23) He had lived in fields with the sheep and in the palace of the king and his summary of it all that was, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my life and my portion forever” (Ps 73:26) 

His presence – our portion.  My friend, there are so many more I could tell you about, but the most important words rest in the very promises of God Himself. Read these – just a few of the innumerable verses that help us remember … and let them envelop you in a cloud of promise and strength. Whatever deep need you are facing, there is an answer, and the greatest answer He can give us is His presence. Rest in His embrace. Let Him be your portion and let your heart be free to rest in the only true safety we will ever find.

 “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Ps 46:1)

“He will hide me in His shelter on the day of trouble” (Ps 27:5) “

“I will be a hiding place for you,” says the Lord, “a fortress in the day of trouble.” (Jer 17:17)

“For you, O Lord, are a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of distress” (Ps 9:9)

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge, and my Savior” (2 Sam 22:2-3)

 “As for God, his way is perfect: The Lord’s word is flawless; He shields all who take refuge in Him. For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.” (2 Sam 22:31-33)

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Ps 4:8)  

“I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure” (Ps 16:8-9)

So …what about that day last month when we took that left turn? My heart trembled once again – but this time in eagerness and joy. I longed to touch that red soil one more time and remember – like the Israelites of old who set monuments in places where they had encountered God. In the shadow of my hard memories, the faithfulness of God shines like a beacon. My heart remembers – and I am glad.

Posted in Living this Life

I had a dream

Posted on by Sara

I carried a dream – back in those days.

And then the dream died.

“unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies”, Jesus said, “it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

That didn’t feel very helpful, back in those days. How am I supposed to know what to do with that cold, hard, dead dream that sits in ones soul and refuses to let go?

On the day the dream died, back in 2009, I wrote these words in my journal: “Waves of discouragement, sadness, hopelessness. I feel like I’ve run out of faith – my well is empty. “

How can such hard pain produce many seeds? How can seed be multiplied in death?

It didn’t seem possible, so I tried to ignore it.

I pretended I didn’t care anymore.

I wouldn’t let myself think about it.

I certainly couldn’t let myself dream that dream anymore … it just hurt too much.

Do you have a dream? Are you braver than me? Brave enough to hold that dream close and hold your breath in anticipation? Brave enough to wait for the promise? Brave enough to trust when all hope is lost?

Back in those days, when the dream was still alive, we drew up plans you could touch – rough drawings for a building.

A building that would be a place of safety and peace for searching young people. A place to train and teach. They were simple plans – but they were the seed. Then, miracle of miracles, in the face of impossible odds, we had land – an acre to build that dream. For the seed to grow. So more plans were drawn – in more detail and greater color as hope suddenly had form!

Then, on that fateful day in 2009, it all faded to nothing, like a mirage. Bureocracy and red tape and roadblocks, and the plans were slowly tucked away, pushed to the back of a box somewhere. That seed of hope slowly died and was also tucked away. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. How could they be forgotten when the dream still lingered like a rock in the center of my stomach?

I’m guessing you know how that feels. We’ve been feeling these things since the beginning of time. 1,000 years before Jesus was born, King Solomon wrote “hope deferred makes the heart sick” Proverbs 13:12. Your dream might look different – but we all know the giddiness of hope and the agony of loss.

Then in 2016, the Spirit began to blow on that cold, buried seed. Glimmers of hope began to appear, but I was so scared. Those are the days I wrote these words: “Today we spent 5 hours talking about the dream. We did more than dream vapor – it is a real and deep sense that God is on the move in this – and the time is NOW… Lord, I stand here in fear and trembling. I have stood on this threshold before. And I have had my dreams dashed.”

My heart quakes when I read those words. I feel that tension still – that longing to hope and yet fearing hope itself. It didn’t happen right away – those were the first signs of spring when you know winter isn’t over yet. But slowly, that seed began to thaw and show signs of life. And then the floodgates opened… There were more plans drawn – pages and pages of detail. It was a time of wonder and endurance – when God’s promise to open the storehouses of heaven become reality, the flood can be overwhelming. Like desperate Peter, scrambling in a sinking boat because the catch of fish was too much to take in, we felt like we were sinking, some days. And other days it felt like we were dancing on the waves. It was all the stuff of miracles. The smile of God.

And these days, I walk the halls of the physical reality of that dream – realized in grander detail than I ever dared hope for. Every part of this building is built on the promises of God – literally. Scrawled on the inside beams of the walls and the concrete of the flooring are promises that poured out of the hearts of the many who were part of the multiplication of the seed.

My original dream – the one I lost – was just a single seed. Jesus said, “if it dies, it produces many seeds.” God combined the seed of my dream with the seeds of so many others, added His supernatural multiplication – and today we do life together in these walls. We laugh together and pray together. We create and learn together. We worship Jesus – together. People use words like peace and safety when they walk in these doors – because this was built on the promise of God and not the hands of man. “In that day they will say, ‘Surely this is our God; we trusted in Him, and He saved us.” Ps 62:8

I used to think this was my dream – but that seed needed to die. Because God had so much more to grow – so many more seeds to resurrect. They have names these days – brothers and sisters who work alongside me to make this vision a reality. Students who walk these halls with me, eager to change the world. And I believe they will.

This is the miracle – the multiplication of hope resurrected!

But this story isn’t just about me or my dream – the seed God buried deep in my heart. This story is about the Sower – the planter of Hope and the Reaper of miracles. The Multiplier of dreams and the Resurrecting Power that turns all death into life. Slow your racing mind for a moment. Quiet the distractions that fill your world with noise. Listen for it. Do you hear Him?

What is your dream? What longing do you carry buried in your heart, planted deep and desperate for hope? What hope have you given up on and tucked away in the deep recesses of your heart because the dream was too impossible? Do you feel His Spirit breathing? After all, that’s what resurrection does – it moves the power from us to the Source of all Power – to “Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20)

Hold that dream that lives in your heart – and breathe deep of His presence in that place. Water that seed with the Word of God. Release it to Him to grow it. It will look different than anything you imagined – that’s the beauty of it all. “One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love” Ps 62:11-12. Ultimate Power fused with Unfailing Love – complete safety. In this sacred space, you can breathe deep… and rest.

For this isn’t the end of the dreams or the quietly waiting seeds. Some have been buried deep in my heart for longer than this one. And I am at peace with it. The restlessness has faded into eager anticipation.

I feel the winds stirring – “Aslan is on the move”, my soul whispers.

and so I watch the horizon and wait.

Posted in Living this Life

The One where Jesus Weeps

Posted on by Sara

Maybe I’ve read it too many times. Do you ever do that? Reach a grand, sweeping story in the Bible and just skim through it like an old sitcom re-run? “The One Where Jesus feeds 5,000 people”… “The One Where He Walks On Water” … you know what I mean, right?

That’s what was happening when I tripped over these two simple words. Truth be told, it’s an oft repeated verse around these parts – my boys say it’s their favorite verse to memorize in Scripture. That might be because it’s known as the shortest verse, and what would a proper boy be if he wasn’t looking for the easiest opportunity to get out of a memorization assignment? So there I was, entering into the “One where Jesus raises someone from the dead” episode, when it stopped me in my tracks.

“Jesus wept”, it says. Yeah, I know we’ve read those words before. Maybe even talked about it. But I’ve never read those words in the context we are now enveloped in throughout our world. Muddling through. Confused by. This “squinting-to-see-truth -through-the-haze” kind of world we are in. So I backed up – and I read it again as if I’d never heard the story. Go there with me…

Jesus receives news that His good friend Lazarus is sick. His sisters, Mary and Martha, are begging Him to help. After all, He is God, right? And He does love them, right? And how does Jesus respond? He waits.

Hold it right there. The story is already hitting too close to home. This is perhaps the most frustrating and confounding of God’s responses to my cries for help. “Will you just do something, God?” I chafe. I try to “help” Him out. I reason with Him, explaining how easy it would be for Him to fix everything … as if He needed to hear how to do His job better. I beg to hear an answer. Even a no – just a something. Some indication that you know I exist. That I need you. That you care. Something, God!

And yet Jesus waits.

Long enough to ensure the worst possible scenario. Lazarus, His friend, dies – and then Jesus decides to show up. His disciples are confused. Jesus makes parodoxical statements that seem to clarify nothing – and then He marches resolutely towards Bethany. It seems to everyone that He’s just a couple days too late at this point.

That’s when this moment that makes time stand still takes place. Jesus is still on the outskirts of town. He has a plan that no one knows. He intends to display God’s glory and power. He knows that the death of His friend will end in resurrection. In a victory that no one can fathom or would dare to predict. He carries all this in His heart as He enters Bethany.

Yet, there stand Mary and Martha. Weeping. Feeling the crushing defeat of death and grief, abandonment and betrayal – they ask all the questions… Why? Where were you when we needed you? You could have saved our brother – why didn’t you come when we called?

Do you feel the weight of those questions today? We all experienced this last year – differently, perhaps, but the loss was there. Confusion permeated the air. Life happened and God has been faithful, but almost like the ongoing horn of a car alarm, there has been this underlying tension that has frayed the nerves and changed us all. Where were you, God?

It’s almost like we can taste the very human saltiness of those tears.

As Jesus stands before Mary, Martha, and the questioning crowds, you’ve gotta wonder what He’s thinking. He knows the end of the story. He knows He came to raise the dead – how easy it would be to slap them on the back, laugh a little, and say “Don’t cry, girls! Come and see what I’m going to do!” He could so easily point to the victory ahead, remind them of all the good days to come.

But not my Jesus. He stands there, holding resurrection in His heart, looking into their grieving souls, and He weeps.

Right there, in that staggering moment, I see Jesus with new eyes. He is my Savior who holds victory in His whisper and promises of hope with every tomorrow – but right now, in this present place, He simply sits with us and feels with us.

My friend, do you feel that? I don’t know what kind of pain, grief, anxiety, or other challenges you face. I am grateful to know that on the other side of it all, there is more in store for us than we could ask or imagine. (Eph. 3:20) But right now, in the middle of it all, don’t we really need to know that Jesus is in it with us? Crying with our sorrows, hurting with our confusion, laughing in our joys, and cradling us when we feel so lost?

I take a deep breath, and let my soul rest in this. This beautiful reality that my Jesus knows. He may not be answering all my questions right now – and honestly, that may not help. Answers may calm our minds, but our heart needs more. It needs Jesus’ presence now – comforting us in our pain. Walking with us in our sorrow. Giving us the assurance of His faithfulness in our questions. Lifting us in our joys.

But I love that the story doesn’t end here! Jesus didn’t stop there, on the outskirts of Bethany. He didn’t build a camp around their grief and sink into the trench of sorrow with them. He moved forward – and brought them with Him. Jesus said, “Show me where he (Lazarus) is”. He goes boldly, unafraid, to the source of their grief. And then He heals.

He has the victory in hand. When we sit in silence, He knows. While we wait, He prepares a way. While we are weeping, He weeps with us. And then He gently takes us to the source of our pain and offers healing. Resurrection power.

My friend, our resurrection will look different than we expect. It may not be the resurrection of what has physically or emotionally died. It may take longer than we expect and we may not fully understand it until we see it on the other side, but it is no less real.

His promise of resurrection leads to victory. It gives us a road out of grief, helps us carry our tears to a place of hope, carves new vision for tomorrow. We can trust His promises. All of them. Even when He is silent. Don’t let your confusion shut Him out. Don’t let your grief dull your senses. Feel His tears alongside your own. Let His presence with you bring you comfort. And then fight for hope. Fight for victory.

Listen to Him say, “Lazarus, come out!”