Spring 2016

I have written elsewhere about where this all came from, where my fear, my hopelessness, my hate came from... but the whole tale is too long.  Here starts the second tale, the tale of hope.  Here I take for granted that you understand my greatest fear: my dad's death. No, that's not really it.  The Lord choosing not to save my dad.  That's it. Or somewhere between the two.

January

After years of not speaking--I could recount the tale, even in more detail than I've elsewhere given, but it is long and frustrated.  Suffice it to say that after years of attempting to talk with him and being turned away, I too stopped trying.  Neither of us reaching for the other--- and out of the seeming blue, I am invited to his house along with all my siblings.  A date is set. And my heart starts to tremble. Do I even want to see him? Can I handle it?  Will I come out alive? Lord, what are you doing here? Questions pouring through my mind, old angers come to life again. Anger with my father. Anger over his drinking. Anger over my wedding and the father-daughter dance that should have been, anger over the sleepless nights he made me stay with him, anger over the lies and deception.  Anger with the Lord for not delivering him.  Anger that he hasn't answered my prayers, anger that he is dragging me into it again, and... Anger that he asks me to long for something he may not even want. 

Who are you Lord?!

February

The visit. It was good, fun. I skiied, no one fought. Good to see my siblings. Good to see my dad? 

I wanted more. I didn't want to just spend time together without fighting. I didn't want the peaceable weekend.  I wanted Peace.  I wanted to see him, not the drunken ghost in front of me. Disappointment, fear when he takes the wheel. Fear for my little brother not buckled in. Fear when my little sister stays in his room at night. Fear. I came out alive, but barely. 

Then the anger builds again. Why can't I have what I long for?  Why can't I have the fullness of him? Why won't the Lord do something here? Doesn't he want to save? Does he want to save? Why must I want that---excruciatingly desire it---if that isn't what the Lord wants for him? How can he ask that of me?

March

Still in turmoil I set my face toward Spring Retreat.  To lead the youth in studying the word. The theme? Jesus wins. Every year that trip makes me weep.  This year, I'm preparing. This year I won't weep.  I don't know who the Lord is right now, so I open up my bible.  I find some passages that I can carry with me into the weekend.

"But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.  The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should reach repentance."

Oh, the trip was harder than I imagined.  Talking about Salvation, the end, heaven and hell, singing about the savior we have.  Sitting in the circle, my anger tore at me.  So uncomfortable that I move all around. Can't sit still. I don't believe this is who the Lord is. I can't praise him as savior.  I am watching him refuse to save. Angry, hot, steaming tears pour down my face.  Tearing through my bible, my insides screaming at the Lord, "who are you?! Answer me!" Ripping the pages to Romans 9 and 10, ready to hate the Lord, building my case against him. Paul, the man who has all the things I don't want to hear. 

"I am speaking the truth in Christ--I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit--that I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh."

Weeping, weeping, I read and reread the words that Paul gives to my own hurt.  Great sorrow. Unceasing anguish in my heart. I myself were accursed. Cut off. For the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen.

Somehow finding comfort in the simple finding of my heart in the scripture. Walking away from that trip I knew two things: First, that church, scripture, and the people of God caused me more pain than I could have imagined.  Second, that all I needed in the world was church, scripture, and the people of God.

I wasn't allowed to leave.  Couldn't dust off my hands and walk away.  Somehow I was stuck. Beth pointed me to Peter, who knew the same thing.

"After this, many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.  So Jesus said to the twelve, 'Do you want to go away as well?' Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God."

You have the words of eternal life.

Easter

Easter, the epitome of all that I could not accept from the Lord. How could I approach such a weekend? I'm still struggling to just be in the church, and now a whole weekend of celebrating in the faith felt impossible, and yet I knew I needed exactly that. I began camping in the book of John. I knew I needed to spend some time gazing at the face of Christ.  I didn't know who the Lord was, but I was determined to open up my bible and keep letting him tell me. And if I didn't know who the Father was, he told me how to find out: "Whoever has seen me has seen the father" (John 14:9). The song stuck with me: "But he shows the beat of his heart to me in the face of Christ for eternity."

It was the most meaningful Easter I have ever celebrated. Brian took on all my pain and all my desires along with me.  We dedicated the weekend to praying for my dad, brother, and sister.  All of whom do not know the Lord.  So, in the midst of me wrestling with the Lord about his desires for salvation, we fasted and prayed, seeking his face. From the good friday service until the easter morning service, Brian and I used only candle light in our home. We prayed together. We mourned together. And we beheld the face of Christ together. 

In that weekend, the Lord gently whispered to me, whispered that he spent thousands of pages showing me who he is, he is the one who saves. Yes, he speaks to me of his more complex will.  Those passages are there.  But the main message is that he saves. He is the savior.  All other saving is but his shadow.

April

Church continues to be painful, but one foot in front of the other, I persevere.  Still fists raised towards the heavens, I continued to seek him, to plea for him to answer me. But now I had the comfort of seeing that the Lord was faithful to answer.  He hadn't yet answered me, but I saw that he was beginning to.  It seemed like each week he whispered a new truth into my ear.  Day by day he took my hands and held them, slowly opening my fingers to receive from him the new mercy I needed.

Then, on April 27th, only eight days before my dad was hospitalized, he gave me the last piece I needed. Sitting under the stars, singing praises to the savior, being lead by highschoolers, I sensed the still small voice of the Lord. It's not that I suddenly heard his voice speaking to me, but I felt his whispered leading, leading me to truths I know, truths he's hidden in me. He showed me his heart for my dad.  All the compassion he has on him.  All the love I carry for him but a drop in the ocean of the Lord's love for him.  What I thought was my fierce and raging desire for his salvation but an echo of his thundering call on my dad.  

May

May 5th, my dad was found in his house. Rushed to the hospital.  Survived the night. Then died the next afternoon.  I'm not yet ready to write my experience of that day or the week following. It was gruesome, and hard, and I have never cried like I did that week.  But that is for another time.

This story ends in my realizing that the Lord knew the day and hour of his passing.  He knew my heart, full of an old fear, full of anger, a heart that, as it was, would not survive.  He knew the work he needed to do, how to prepare me for that dark hour.  And I see his immeasurable grace in that.  I had no idea that losing my dad was a part of this conversation.  I didn't know that it would happen. He did. And because of the work he did in me, at the exact right time, one week before the thing I most feared, I walked into my dad's death trusting him.  Not angry, not mourning without comfort, but with hope in the Lord. I didn't, and still don't, have all my questions answered, but I cannot imagine walking through this loss while also shaking my fists at the heavens. I am in the middle of this still, my questions and his answers are still unfolding, but I hold onto hope, I keep looking to the face of Christ, and the Lord is near to me.

"I sought the Lord, and he answered me

and delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to him are radiant,

and their faces shall never be ashamed.

This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him

and saved him out of all his troubles

The angel of the Lord encamps

around those who fear him, and delivers them.

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!

Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!"

Psalm 34:4-8