October is Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month. This is my story...
I always envisaged a big family for myself. Growing up the eldest of four, anything less seemed, well, too neat and tidy - now that I actually have children of my own, I realise that there is nothing neat and tidy about being a parent full stop. Whether you have one or ten, raising children will challenge you to your very core!
I am grateful to say that a big family has become our reality. But if you had told me just how this would be realised, the young girl dreaming of babies and white picket fences would have laughed at you. God has not built my family how I imagined. I am a step-mother; I was a foster-mother to my nephew for several years; I have given birth to three healthy babies. I have also lost one of my babies. I am the one in four.
One in four. When I went for my three month scan, after two healthy and uneventful pregnancies, I wasn't expecting anything but to see my child for the first time. Instead I heard the words that were meant to bring me comfort; meant to make me feel like I wasn't alone in this journey. That this experience was somewhat normal because it happens in one in four pregnancies.
But those words felt just like they really are. Cold, hard, statistics. Just numbers. And none of our stories are just a number to God. We are intimately seen, known and loved.
From the outset, this pregnancy had been different. Each of our kids have been planned and wanted, but this pregnancy was a desire fulfilled. We began fostering our nephew when Isabelle - daughter number 3 - was 15 months old. We'd been talking about when to try for another baby when we got the call from CYFS to attend the family conference about his care. I'd never met him but we put our hand up to have him come live with us. Within six weeks a just-turned 3 year old was flown up to Auckland to join our family and I was about to experience the chaos that is three pre-schoolers! I say it in jest, but truthfully, I was ill-prepared for just how hard and heart-breaking it can be to parent a child who has been neglected and abused.
I went into the journey thinking that my baby plans were just being delayed but it soon became apparent to me that barring a miracle in my nephews life, there would be no more babies in the Walker household. I began to grieve the child I thought I would now never have.
It's hard to explain the grief that you can carry for someone you have never met - someone who is as yet, just an idea. But every day for a year I had to surrender this child I thought would never be to the Lord. I gave away every item of clothing, every toy, that I had kept for the 'next' baby and when I could bear it no more, I asked a girlfriend to pray with me for God to take the desire for another baby away. I knew that I needed to accept the shape that our family had taken and fully embrace the children that were in my home right now. Graciously God did.
After nearly two and a half years of raising my nephew, the journey came to an end. It was our decision but it is not a decision that I would wish upon anyone. My heart felt torn and battered. The grief began again - this time not for a child I wished for, but for a child I had held in my arms. A child I had fought for. A child who had called me his mum.
When people asked me how many children we had, I never knew how to answer. Who knew such a simple question could cut so deeply? I stopped mentioning him and would only talk about the girls. About eighteen months after our nephew had left, two women who didn't really know me asked me if I was sure that our family was finished. "Yes" I had replied, adding that, "God has shut that door."
But God began to whisper to my heart, did I shut that door Aimee, or did you? You see, I had always said thirty was my cut-off for having children. It was afterall when my Mum had her last, so I had always figured that was when I should be done by too! Isn't it funny some of the things we absorb and decide as children?! So here I was, in my early thirties beginning to wonder if the door had really been fully shut on adding to our family. Rather than excited though, I was terrified by the reawakening of a desire that I thought had died, but had really only ever been dormant.
The preceding years had been hard for a multitude of reasons and re-opening this door brought all my hurts and fears up to the surface. For six months I wrestled with God over the disappointments of the past. In that time, God did some intensive heart surgery and hope - the confident expectation of His goodness for my life - began to rise within me once again. I came to realise that while God was proud of my perseverance and the depth of trust that our trials had forged in me, that it wasn't His ultimate goal for me. Hope was.
Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.
When we found out that I was pregnant, this child felt like the symbol of the new thing that God was doing in my heart and life.
And then those words. The one in four...
I'm not really sure how I made it out of the room and back to the car. How I made the call to my husband and then my midwife. It all felt like a bad dream that I hoped I would awaken from.
But I didn't. The next day my body began to naturally miscarry. It would take five full days. Grief was once again my companion. But this time, so was hope. As I made my way down our hallway in the middle of the night, in agonising pain, I heard the gentle whisper of God, Aimee, I know that this is a HUGE disappointment, but know that I love you.
God's love held me not just in that moment, but in the days, weeks and months that followed.
His love was in the friends who sat with me and cared for me as I miscarried my longed-for child
It was in the meals that turned up on our doorstep
It was in the many people who picked up and dropped off my kids when I was to weak to get up from the couch - who kept life normal for them while I grieved.
It was in the flowers people sent and the words of encouragement that they spoke
It was in His Word and in His sweet presence
The hope that had been forged in my heart in the preceding months had opened my eyes to see that His goodness and His love is always at work. Yes, in this world, we will encounter disappointment (sometimes that word doesn't quite seem adequate), but we do not have to live disappointed because we are ALWAYS loved. ALWAYS seen. ALWAYS valuable.
And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.
There were many other losses that year that God's goodness carried us through. He is not the author of our suffering but He is skilled at weaving it in such a way that it will work for good if we will allow Him too. He is the God who gives beauty for ashes.
We named our precious baby Jordan. It was a statement of faith that we would not let our grief take us back to the wilderness, but that we would trust that God was, and would always be, good to our family no matter what the journey looked like.
And He has been. In August 2015, I gave birth to Lucas. His name means bringer of light. I wanted to call him Lewis which means renowned warrior - Lucas was Dave's choice and believe me I fought him on it! But a few weeks before he was due, our daughter Misha came and sat next to me on a park bench and said, "Mum, we don't need a warrior, we need a bringer of light." Fittingly, he timed his entrance into this world with the sunrise.
There is a time to fight and to contend. But there is also a time to allow God to shine His light; to let the hope of who He is bring healing to our lives; to let His comfort penetrate our brokeness.
I have my moments where the tears still flow for the children I no longer hold in my arms. Where my heart aches for what might have been. But hope anchors me. The hope of what God has planned for my nephew's life; the hope that one day I will behold Jordan and see her in all her beauty. The hope that God has and always will be good to me.
You are not a number. Your grief - whatever the cause - is not a statistic. And my prayer for you today is that as you walk the path to healing, that hope, the confident expectation of His goodness, would indeed anchor your soul and awaken your heart to see His love towards you as it has done mine.
P.S. My nephew's story has had its own beautifully messy ending. After leaving our home, he had two further failed placements but he now has a home for life with an incredible couple who married later in life and were unable to have children of their own. He is their desire fulfilled; an answer to their prayers and the fulfilment of words spoken over their lives. God specialises in writing beautiful endings even if they don't come the way we thought they would. Can I encourage you today that your story isn't finished yet either xx
We sat together on the couch, her head buried into my shoulder as she wept for the things, the people that she was missing. And my heart ached for my daughter as she tried to figure out how to navigate her current season.
Change is hard. Being brave and willing to give new things a go and walk down yet unknown paths can be overwhelming.
As winter has given way to spring in our part of the world, something deep within us rejoices and celebrates the signs of new life. We have ached for something to come and replace the barreness. But new beginnings aren't always looked for or even necessarily wanted; they aren't solely the territory of the dead and barren places. Sometimes, God asks us to allow Him to prune the fruitful things - the things that are in full bloom - in our lives so that we can be even more fruitful (John 15:2).
Over the last two years, God has been bringing restoration and life to areas in my heart and story that I have longed for Him to, but He's simultaneously been asking me to let Him bring about new beginnings - to be pruned - in places where I wasn't looking for change.
He has asked me to resign my position and my ministry credentials
He has called us out of the Church we helped plant to start over after some 18 years of community
He has led us to homeschool when I never even wanted to be a stay at home mum (He sure has a sense of humour!)
And each of these changes has asked a question of me - do I really trust Him in the place of exchange? In the place where I don't yet know what my hands will hold and all I can see is what I'm letting go of?
Pruning seasons can be a unique type of change because we don't always know exactly what it is that God is making room for in our lives. We often only see the gaping whole left that was once fruitful and flourishing. Pruning inevitably ushers us into an in-between time - a time of uncertainty and waiting - just like in the natural, it takes time for the new growth to become visible.
In my own life, the place of exchange has tested whether I really believe that He is who He says He is. Whether I trust His heart towards me and the plans that He has for me. The place of exchange has revealed whether the Scriptures I quote are merely platitudes and bumper stickers or the foundation of truth that I've built my life upon because the place of exchange requires us to live with a deep assurance of His goodness and His love for us.
Jesus makes the Father's heart in pruning us abundantly clear - it is not to diminish us in any way but to increase us. To make us more fruitful. Pruning is not about judgment but preparation. And while it can be easy to entertain the voice of condemnation when we feel like we're being cut back, Jesus offers us this assurance:
You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
Jesus is telling us, You are mine, I have washed you. Don't let the enemy tell you that you don't belong, that you're not valuable because you're being stripped back. Don't isolate yourself from Me; don't try and make things happen in your own strength, Trust that my heart is to cause you to flourish and be fruitful. Come, tarry a moment with Me. Apart from Me you can do nothing, but with Me, you can trust that greater fruitfulness is coming.
The word for 'remain' or 'abide' meant to remain, abide; to sojourn or tarry; to continue to be present; to be held, kept continually. It paints a picture for us of lingering in and savouring the presence of God with us. For me personally, I've found this 'abiding' to be both the challenge and the invitation of the place of exchange. My grief, my disappointment, my frustrations and impatience, the uncertainty can either build a wall between me and God or they can become a bridge to greater dependency, greater trust in His wisdom and goodness and in His time, greater fruitfulness.
If I want them to be a bridge, I must settle the question of trust. Will I trust His heart to lead me and yes, even to prune me?
I've decided yes. What about you?
'But'. It's a word that gets used on a daily basis in my household:
But you said...
But that's not fair...
I don't want to hear any 'buts,' just do it...
And on it goes. This little yet powerful word gets thrown around throughout the day - throughout our lives - and depending on the context, it will remind us of the obstacles, the limitations and perhaps even injustices that we might find ourselves facing, or it can open up another perspective. 'But' has the potential to unlock a new way of thinking; to cause us to focus less on the impossibilities and more on the possibilities.
I've been offering plenty of my own 'buts' up to God of late; dampening the desires and the dreams that I know He has placed within me with a narrative of impossibility.
But I don't have enough [I could write a shopping list for you here!]...
But I just want a break...
But I'm tired of waiting...
But it's just too hard - impossible even...
Scripture shows us a pattern of such impossibilities encountering a 'but God' truth - however if you're anything like me, you've probably been guilty more than once of switching it round. Of derailing what God wants to do with 'but impossibility.' We allow our obstacles and inadequacies to become bigger than who God is.
I love what Paul Manwaring writes:
This is where the real battle of faith is, the battle of trusting an unseen, eternal reality and letting it transform the way we negotiate visible, temporal reality.
'But God' is not a denial or whitewashing of what we face; rather it is allowing the reality of who He is, of eternity, to reshape how we see our lives and our circumstances.
David models this for us throughout the psalms:
When he had to flee from his son Absalom and his foes were many and people were telling him that God would not deliver him, he said, "But you are a shield around me, O Lord; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head." (Psalm 3)
When he felt forgotten and he wrestled with his thoughts - his heart heavy with sorrow - he declared, "But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation.. I will sing to the Lord for He has been good to me." (Psalm 13)
When he considered God's holiness, that the wicked could not dwell in His presence, he was aware of the grace that enabled him to draw near saying, "But, I, by Your great mercy, will come into Your house; in reverence will I bow down toward your holy temple." (Psalm 5)
David allowed himself to express his worries and his fears; he acknowledged the obstacles he faced and the enemies who opposed him; he accepted his own inadequacies and failings but he didn't allow his thoughts to stop there. Time and time again the Psalms show us how David lived not in light of his impossibilities but by the truth of 'but God.'
It is not a sin to see the obstacles we face or to give voice to our fears and our anguish but we mustn't allow them to stop us from encountering God or pursuing His plans for our lives. In 2 Corinthians 10:5, Paul writes:
We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
I don't know about you, but when I continually interrupt God with a narrative of 'but this' or 'but that,' the truth gets distorted and I become susceptible to believing lies; to elevating my problems above the wonder of who God is. And when I do this, I am robbed of truly knowing God and from experiencing the fullness that He has for me.
We need to recognise that our minds are a battlefield - that the enemy would love us to think in a way that keeps us distracted from seeing God's goodness. We must learn like David to process our reality and to then submit it to the powerful truth of 'but God.'
And when we allow 'but' to become an invitation to a new way of thinking - to God's perspective - then we will be positioned to see and experience His goodness in each and every season of our lives.
Where do you need to say, 'but God' today?
I mindlessly scroll through Instagram feeling a growing wave of discontent building within me.
I see the catalogue worthy homes and I wonder if it's just me whose furniture needs replacing; just me whose children seem to litter every room with evidence of their messy existence.
I see their beautiful workspaces and I think of how I write with children climbing over me and nestled against me on the couch. The luxury of defined work hours seems a distant memory and part of me longs to go back to their comfortable routine but instead, I'm stealing time whenever I can to get my words out of my head and onto a screen.
I see their impressive number of followers and platforms and I wonder what it took to get there - what will it take for me to get there? When will I get to get there?
And as this wave of aching discontent washes over me, I hear the Holy Spirit whisper, "What is that to you, Aimee?" What is that to you if I've blessed them with a beautiful home? What is it to you if I've wired them to be like Martha Stewart? What is it to you if I've called them to the marketplace and you to be at home? What is it to you if now is the proper time in their lives for promotion and platforms? What is it to you?
My Dad calls it the W.I.T.T.Y principle. In John 21, following the resurrection, Jesus is ministering to Peter. Mirroring and restoring him from his earlier denial of Christ, Peter has confessed three times his love for Jesus, and Jesus now gives Peter a glimpse of what is in store for him – it’s not a pretty picture!
“I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go …. Follow Me!”
Jesus was telling Peter that he too would one day suffer death by crucifixion, He was laying out the cost of loving Him, making Peter pause and determine, did he really want to follow Jesus?
I can’t really blame Peter for what he did next – I think I would have too! Peter turns and looks back and he sees John, also known as the disciple whom Jesus loved, and he asks, “What about him?” He wants to know, does John get the same deal! Jesus replies saying,
If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow Me.”
The W.I.T.T.Y principle - What Is That To You?
How much trouble we get ourselves in; how distracted, resentful and frustrated we become when we concern ourselves with how God is working out another’s life; when we compare or wish for another’s journey. The crumbs of comparison take our eyes off the prize - off of Jesus - and leave us feeling empty. They hinder us from becoming like Him, from fulfilling His call on our lives.
Peter chose Jesus. Peter determined that whatever it cost he would follow where Jesus led.
And I want to too. Because I know that when I take my eyes off of everybody else's calling; off of everybody else's lives and just look at mine, keeping my focus on what God is saying to me, the discontent dissipates. When I keep choosing Jesus, I am freed to run with perseverance the race that He has marked out for me.
When I stay in my lane; when I run my race, not only does the discontent dissipate, but I am also deeply satisfied. In John 4:34, Jesus said this:
"My nourishment comes from doing the will of God who sent me, and from finishing His work."
Jesus had been resting by a well, ministering to a Samaritan woman as He waited for the disciples to return with food and provisions. But when they do, He tells them that He already has food to eat - they're confused, and ask themselves if somebody else could have brought Him food? Jesus responds by telling them that His food, the nourishment for His soul, comes from doing what God has asked Him to do.
We were never designed or intended to live lives that look like clones of one another. You are one of a kind and so am I - each of us fearfully and wonderfully fashioned by God Himself. And in His wisdom, He plants dreams and desires within us; opens doors and leads us in ways that fit with our unique design. We will be satisfied - nourished - not when we are wanting someone else's life, but when we are living out His will for our life.
Where do you need to refocus on Jesus? Follow where He's leading you knowing that only His path can truly satisfy your soul.
This post follows on from last week's blog, 'For the Lonely Battlegrounds.' You can read it here.
I'll never forget the feelings that I had when we arrived home from one of my childhood holidays to find that our home had been robbed. The feelings of vulnerability; of violation and of anger. It was evident that they'd been interrupted and not taken everything that they'd intended to - what I would later find out, was that friends of ours camped out in the lounge the following night with baseball bats on-hand to ensure that nothing further was lost!
Last week, I was reflecting on some of the lonely battlegrounds that I've personally been faced with in recent months. Actually, if I'm honest it was more like moping and feeling sorry for myself! I'd finished a time of prayer and Daniel Fasting and I just hadn't seen any of the breakthroughs that I'd hoped for, In fact, I found myself left with more questions than before I began and I was feeling somewhat flat and defeated. As I sat in my favourite chair (with coffee in hand of course!), David's story, his season of needing to strengthen himself in the Lord, challenged me for a different reason.
You see, after David wept; after He strengthened and encouraged himself in the Lord; after he sought God's counsel, he did something else - he pursued his enemy.
David fought them from dusk until the evening of the next day, and none of them got away, except four hundred young men who rode off on camels and fled. David recovered everything the Amalekites had taken, including his two wives.
Our weeping matters. Not only because our grief matters to God and He wants to comfort us in it, but because unless we allow ourselves to feel the depth of our loss and the weight of our pain, we will not reach the point of coming to the end of ourselves. We will not make room for God to be with us. What we do not mourn, we will not desire to recover.
But equally, God does not desire us to stay in the place of mourning and weeping indefinitely. There are times that He asks us to rise up and pursue the enemy. To have the resolve that our friends did when they guarded our house that night with their baseball bats - that we will not allow ourselves or those we love to be robbed of what is rightfully theirs. That we will fight as long as it takes to recover what has been lost.
The word pursue and you will recover that God gave David was not a detailed roadmap outlining exactly how he should do everything - it was more like a road sign giving David a sense of direction. It was an invitation for David to use his strengths and abilities to partner with what God was wanting to do in that situation.
David's resolve and his victory were fuelled by his intimacy with God. When his own strength was gone, he leaned on God to receive His. When he didn't know what to do next, He asked God. And when others wanted to claim the victory for themselves and not share the spoils with those who had remained behind, David gave God the credit saying:
"No my brothers, you must not do that with what the Lord has given us. He has protected us and handed over to us the forces that came against us."
David understood that victory did not lie in running ahead of God or in pursuing his own agenda, but in aligning himself with what God was saying and doing; in looking to God and honouring Him for His work in his life.
I knew that day that God was asking me to recover some of my 'fight.' That I was being challenged to not give up or retreat from what was before me. And so I wielded my sword, which is the Word of God (Eph. 6:17), and I began to declare aloud truths from Scripture; precious promises of God that have been meaningful in my own journey. Strength and determination began to build within me as I partnered with what God was saying,
As I write these words, I wish I could tell you a story like David's - that after a few days of pursuing my enemy and wielding my sword that the victory was won and all was recovered. But that's not my testimony - yet. What I can tell you though is this: I'm not ready to give up on my lonely battlegrounds. I'm standing firm because I've learnt that when you stay steady in what God has promised, He can do the suddenly.
Where is God asking you to stand firm? To be willing to pursue and fight for what is rightfully yours? Partner with what He has promised and trust that He will not only protect you, but that in time, He will give you the victory.
It felt like somewhat of a standoff as my mother and I stood facing each other at my back door in a heated exchange. I had gone on the offensive, defending my actions as she confronted me about an attitude that she rightly perceived had become toxic in my life - and truthfully, even I was taken back by the words that were spewing out of me. I hadn't realised until that moment the depth of what had been hiding in my heart.
There was a position that I desperately wanted which I believed I was being unfairly held back from. I felt overlooked and like my contributions to the team were being taken for granted. My desires and intentions were good, but at that particular time, rather than fuelling an expectation for the future, they had ignited within me a deep sense of dissatisfaction and frustration.
I thought it should be my turn
I was afraid of missing out
I felt constrained and powerless to do anything about it
My inner dialogue in that season was telling me that it was NEVER going to happen for me if it didn't happen NOW. So I fell into striving; trying to prove my own worth as I grasped for what I felt I should have and be.
Often, more than we tell lies, we believe them. And these lies that I was accepting were doing me much harm.
In Psalm 37:7-8, David offers us this wisdom:
Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him... Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret - it leads only to evil.
David warns us not to open the door to anger while we wait because it will lead only to evil. In addition to the word for evil meaning just that - to do bad or evil - it also means to hurt or injure; to break. When we wait with frustration, with anger and anxiety in our hearts, we can hurt not only ourselves, but also those around us.
That season of my life was marked by MUCH fretting and I can testify to the truth of David's words - it leads only to evil.
I did evil to myself - I robbed myself of peace; of being able to enjoy the season I was in and I placed a huge burden on myself to achieve and perform in ways that God was not asking me to.
I did evil to others - injuring them with my words as I lashed out in frustration and at times fed their own sense of dissatisfaction.
Fretting turned what God had intended to be a blessing in my life and made it a burden.
After my mum left that day, I went before God and I laid it all down. I surrendered my dream and the timetable that went with it. I asked His forgiveness for my wrong attitude and when I had settled the issue in my heart, I picked up the phone to apologise for how I had spoken to my mother and to thank her for her loving correction. There was an instant shift in my spirit as I laid down my striving and rested in who God was; as I chose to trust in His timing.
Eighteen months later, I was given the position that I had so desperately longed for. And as I stepped into it, as I began to feel the weight of responsibility that came with it, I realised something - I would not have been ready for the position when I thought I was. What was now a blessing to me and to those around me, could have broken me in another season. God had been right to hold me back from promotion (funny that!).
In Psalm 37, David encourages us with this promise:
Make God the utmost delight and pleasure of your life, and He will provide for you what you desire most.
That chapter of my life taught me a lesson that I will never forget; truth that I have carried with me through other seasons of waiting and delay. God's timing is always the right timing and we don't need to force that timing, We can rest in His wisdom, enjoying Him and savouring the journey that He has us on.
God doesn't place dreams and desires in our hearts to frustrate us, but to bless us. His invitation as we wait for the proper timing for those desires to be realised, is to be still in His presence - to wait with Him; valuing the dream-giver more than the dream itself. When we accept this invitation, not only does He give us the desires of our heart, those desires become a source of delight to us.
What is He asking you to trust Him with in this season?
Live today with purpose,
P.S. Want to discover how to wait well? To be at rest in times of delay and uncertainty? Sign up to get the Power of Quiet devotional to your inbox or order the journal copy here.
The posy sits in the center of my table, bathed in warm sunlight. Every time I pass by it, I whisper a prayer of gratitude for what it represents - for the friend who brought it and the healing that came with it.
We had been the most unlikely of friends and even though we’d known each other since childhood, it wasn’t until much later that our connection was formed. But when it was, it was like we were soul sisters. We laughed and cried on one another’s couches; took holidays together; spent hours on the phone and when our babies arrived, swapped our café catch-ups for mornings at the playground. Together we dreamed big Kingdom dreams, soaking each other’s lives in fervent prayer.
But then one day something changed. We both changed. It was subtle at first, but over time our different seasons – our different struggles – drove a wedge between us. I began to feel like a stranger in her presence. Misunderstood. Lacking. Deficient. Then one year, we both experienced overwhelming losses, and while I in my grief wanted to draw closer, she needed to retreat.
And so, in no uncertain terms, she moved away from me.
I drove home from that conversation in a daze of disbelief; tears streaming down my cheeks. They would not be the last tears that I would cry as the finality of no longer doing life together settled in.
But I knew in the midst of my pain, that I faced a choice. I could choose to live offended – to keep replaying the wrong that I felt had been done to me, or I could pursue forgiveness. In Colossians 3, Paul writes:
…Christ is all, and is in all. Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience… Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
As I wrestled through my hurts, giving voice to my anger, the Holy Spirit graciously reminded me of this truth: Christ is all and is in all. I was His chosen and dearly beloved daughter. And so was my friend. The way that I thought towards her; the way that I spoke about her; the way that I prayed for her needed to reflect this truth. Needed to honour who she was in Christ and His presence within her.
This truth released me to trust God to heal my own heart, but also to believe for Him to do the same for my friend. To trust that in His infinite love, He could take the threads of what felt like opposing stories and conflicting needs to create something beautiful for each of us. Respecting her need for space, I sent her a card apologising for how some of my choices had impacted her. I no longer needed to agree with her interpretation of events in order to forgive; the Holy Spirit was awakening compassion within me for her perspective. Secure in the Father’s love for me, I was now free to wear love towards her.
Over the coming years, the distance remained. And although we occasionally exchanged texts and well-wishes, when our paths crossed I still felt held at arm’s length. Milestones passed and I felt the ache of her absence. Some days the grief and sting of rejection rose up afresh driving me back to my knees. Back to the truth that in Christ, I am dearly loved. At such times I had to choose again to entrust my aching heart to the one who loved me completely; to forgive as He has forgiven me. And as I did, my heart became whole again.
Then one day she arrived with flowers and her own apology. We sat on my couch like old times and the walls came down. The path of forgiveness – the path of love - paved the way for reconciliation.
I don’t yet know what will be written in the days to come about our friendship, but I do know this: the call to live in relationship, in authentic community will never be without challenges. We must continually choose to live loved – allowing His love to fill and clothe us so that we can love others well, even when we hurt. As we do, like my posy of flowers bathed in warm sunlight, things of great beauty will grow in and around us.
Live today with purpose,
Our choices often have a way of catching up with us. I know that they certainly did for us. For five years we lived beyond our means; borrowing and topping-up our borrowing whenever something went wrong, or there was quite simply, just something that we wanted and wanted now. But after five years all those choices caught up with us and we had to face the consequences.
In Isaiah 30, God told the Israelites that their sin was like a crack that makes the high wall quickly crumble and shatter. Well, this was us, the cracks in the walls - our sins - brought life as we knew it crumbling down. Everything changed and with our first child in tow, we moved in under my parents to begin the task of rebuilding.
It's been a long and humbling journey living with the consequences of the choices we made. But it has also been a journey marked by God's rich mercies and grace. Because here's the thing that I've learnt - no matter how far we fall, or how far off-track we wander, God is always for us.
In spite of their sin, God had offered the Israelites His help, but they had chosen instead to look to Egypt for protection saying, "No, we will flee on horses... we will ride off on swift horses." But even after they had run off on their swift horses, God's heart was still for them. He still longed to bless His people.
And therefore the Lord [earnestly] waits [expecting, looking and longing] to be gracious to you; and therefore He lifts Himself up, that He may have mercy on you and show loving kindness to you. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) are all those who [earnestly] wait for Him, who expect and look and long for Him [for His victory, His favour, His love, His peace, His joy, and His matchless, unbroken companionship]!
And even when we've raced off pursuing our own strategies and agendas, His heart is still for us. In spite of all our failings, He waits for - actually looks for - opportunities to show us His goodness and to be gracious to us. The Father lifts Himself up to show us mercy - to spare us from what we deserve - and in the ultimate expression of His loving kindness, John 3 tells us that He allowed His own son Jesus, to be lifted up on the Cross in order to show us the depths of that love; in order to spare us the punishment that our sins - all these cracks in the wall - really deserve.
We might have to live with consequences but we no longer have to live with condemnation.
Condemnation is a damnatory sentence, an expression of disapproval, the action of condemning someone to punishment. It sounds heavy doesn't it - and if you've ever allowed yourself to come under condemnation then you'll know first-hand just how weighty it is. Condemnation coats us with shame; it taunts us with failure and it lies about our identity - breeding despair and robbing us of hope for the future.
Walking out the consequences of our sins has been much longer than the five years it took to get there and there have been moments that I have wrestled to break free from the clutches of condemnation. But I have learnt that I must bring myself back to the truth that there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. We have been set free from carrying this weight because of Jesus' extravagant love on the Cross. We have been set free to live by His Spirit. We have been set free to know His victory, His favour, His love, His peace, His joy and His matchless, unbroken companionship!
We are not our pasts. We are not our mistakes. We are His beloved children whom He has redeemed. And He is now in the process of restoring our lives back to the glory that He intended - of rebuilding our broken walls.
Whatever cracks have caused your walls to come crashing down, know this: despite the consequences, He does not condemn you. You are still loved and in His unfathomable grace He will help you to rebuild what has been cracked and broken.
Live today with purpose,.
This blog was adapted from The Power of Quiet devotional reading plan - you'll find it for free here.
One of my favourite pass-times as a kid was writing. I used to make my own books and write poetry on our old type-writer. Thankfully both my writing and technology have come a long way!
It is my prayer that these posts from the blogging team encourage you to embrace the season that you are in and to live it with purpose for God's glory.
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