Mark Allen Moore's Blog, page 3

Darkness

“The valley of the shadow of death holds no darkness for the child of God. There must be light, else there could be no shadow. Jesus is the light. He has overcome death.” ~ Dwight L. Moody (American evangelist and publisher)

This Is No Time to Panic

I remember the moment we backed out of our driveway in my buddy Jay’s pickup. The bed of the truck was loaded with around 20 suitcases, boxes, and carry-ons. We had sold or given away everything that we owned (other than our keepsakes which went into storage). Jay was taking us to the airport where we and our two kids (Clarke & Aly…6 and 4 at the time) were to get on an airplane for a one-way trip to Turkey. I remember thinking in that moment, “what have we done?” As excited as we had been in the previous few months as we prepared to go, in that moment, I was scared. The world felt like it was closing in on me and I was not sure God was with us.

Like many of you, I’ve walked through a lot of valleys and scary moments. I’ve questioned my resolve and doubted God’s presence and goodness. It’s in those moments, in the “dark or difficult seasons” in my life that I sometimes find myself referencing “being in the valley.” That’s a fascinating perspective when we actually think about it.

We typically use the term “valley” to describe all the ugly places in our lives. We tend to associate it with darkness, pain, and suffering.

Maybe it’s because of the familiar passage from David in Psalm 23:4:

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

When taken at face value and out of context, this passage can certainly seem dark and scary. It can make a valley seem like a fearful place where death and evil lurk behind every bush, boulder, and stone.

In reality, valleys are beautiful places. Those of you who have been in an actual valley (not a metaphorical one), know what I’m talking about. They tend to be rich in vegetation with trees, rivers, and wildlife. They are not always dark, and when they are, much of the time it’s because of the shadows. Is darkness really the defining point in our understanding of what is difficult or painful? Because, darkness only exists where the light is not present. If God is with us, then His light is with us as well.

In Psalm 23 David uses the Hebrew word “yalak” for walk, but it can also mean to be led or carried. That puts a slightly different perspective on it. Being led or carried through the valley adds another dimension to the statement “He is with us.” He’s actually leading and carrying us when we are too shattered to walk. He leads us and carries us through the valley; the valley of the shadow of death. Consequently, His light shatters the darkness.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” Psalm 119:105 ESV

This is also worth saying: God would never lead us or carry us into something evil. It’s only when we separate from Him that we become lost in the shadows, where we would otherwise have been guided and directed through them.

Here’s something else worth seeing: They are only shadows. A shadow is not substantial or permanent; it’s momentary, so it doesn’t last forever. A shadow can only exist in the presence of light. So where there are shadows, there is a sun (Son). Those places in your life that seem the darkest right now are only shadows, and they are shadows that are cast because of the presence of His light.

I remember when I was sixteen years old, I achieved the rank of Eagle Scout, the highest honor someone can receive from the Boy Scouts of America (BSA). However, there is an “order” only Eagle Scouts can be a part of. I wanted to be part of it, so I applied. The “test” or “initiation” was spending one night out in the wilderness alone with nothing but a sleeping bag, a canteen of water, two matches, an egg, and a flashlight (I never figured out what I was supposed to do with the egg).

They took me out a few miles in the middle of the Guadalupe Mountains in West Texas in the middle of the afternoon and left me. I had to survive until they came to get me the next morning. Everything was fine until the sun dropped below the backdrop of the surrounding mountains around four o’clock.

From that moment, every sound, the crack of every twig, and the rustle of every leaf would catch my breath and cause me to listen intently for anything dangerous. Mountain lions, Bobcats, snakes, scorpions…the area was known for all of them. I was on high alert all through the night. I had thoughts and visions of a mountain lion grabbing me in my sleep or waking up to a rattlesnake in my bed. Consequently, I might have slept an hour. I was never more excited than when the sun began to peek over the mountains to the East. The sun was up, the darkness gone, and I had made it. I survived!

When we are in those places, our minds play tricks on us. Are there dangers? Most definitely. Life is full of them, no matter where you’re located. But the valleys are no different from the mountain tops. When it’s dark, they can both be scary places because our vision is limited. We can’t see things well or accurately.

It’s in those moments of darkness when we begin to see or hear things that aren’t there. The perceived isolation brings feelings of fear and paranoia, and our minds tell us things that aren’t true. We panic. We run. Then, we get lost.

When we walk through disappointment and grief, it sure feels like a dark, damp valley. The world feels like it is closing in on us and we can’t breathe. We feel isolated, alone. That’s probably similar to what a seed feels like when it’s planted in the ground.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24 ESV)

Everyone wants the “mountain top experience” where you’re above the clouds in the sun and you can see for miles. It’s certainly a great place to be for a moment of clarity and fresh air. The problem is that on the mountain the air is thinner, and it is difficult for things to grow.

Things grow in the valleys.

Yes, for something to grow, something has to die. That’s the painful part. That’s why it’s a valley of death. However, it’s also a valley of life. In the valley, death and life coexist in order to create something amazing and beautiful. That’s why the valleys are full of trees, fruit, wildlife, and rivers. So, through the death of a single seed (which may bring disappointment and loss), a beautiful forest will grow. The death of one seed produces thousands! That’s life in the valley of death!

That’s why James says to “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” (James 1:2-3 ESV)

Our trials in the valley produce fruit in our lives.

There is a dying that must take place in our lives for our Heavenly Father to bring life out of the darkness. We have to let those things die. We have to walk through the pain, through the valley. Remember, things grow in the valley, so we need to learn to thrive as we walk through them. It’s actually a beautiful place to be when we know and understand our creator is with us and is for us, and that He has created the valley as a place for us to grow and learn.

Remember, it was in the valley, the garden, that the Father walked with His creation in the cool of the day! It was, and is, a place of discovery and revelation; a place of fellowship and intimacy.

“Our faith is built in the dark, in the valleys, and during the back-breaking battles in life.” ~ Dana Arcuri (Author, speaker, and certified trauma recovery coach)

Peace!

If you would like to read more on this topic and others like it, check out my book:

Living in the Mystery

Obviously, I don’t have all the answers. In fact, the more I learn, the more I realize how little I actually know. I find it’s one of the things that keeps me pressing into the presence of my Heavenly Father, because only He holds the words of life.

Early in our journey of loss, grief, and disappointment, I was stuck on the “consider it all joy” mandate found in James 1. I was hurting so much I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the Apostle James was saying. I must have reread that passage of Scripture a hundred times searching for the hidden secrets. How can there be joy in my mourning and peace in my despair? I wanted that, I needed that, but in my pain I couldn’t get past the words themselves; they’re mutually exclusive, opposites. Yet, if the Word of God says it, I knew, somehow, it must be true, even though it was a mystery. So I pressed in.

The truth of the matter is the Kingdom of God is an “upside down” kingdom. It’s backwards to what we consider normal, logical, or acceptable. In fact, God spoke to Isaiah and said:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
 For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9 ESV)

As if to illustrate that passage, Jesus liked to make statements like, “turn the other cheek,” “So the first will be last and the last first,” and “Yet it shall not be so among you; but whoever desires to become great among you, let him be your servant.” This is backwards to what society teaches and what culture exemplifies. These are not the statements of a “me” focused culture. We make statements like, “put yourself first because no one else will” and “look out for number one.”

Consequently, we don’t understand the culture of the Kingdom of God, because it runs counter to the way we’ve been raised to think of life, society, and freedom. In the culture of the Kingdom of God, Jesus has been anointed…

“to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;” (Isaiah 61:3a ESV)

But that doesn’t make sense to us, especially in the midst of our pain. Consequently we dismiss much of the Word of God because it doesn’t fit in with our way of living life. It doesn’t mesh with our cultural and societal norms. So, when faced with disappointment and grief, we become discouraged, confused, and angry. We don’t understand. We blame God because we don’t really know Him or we have a wrong perception or perspective about Him.

Sometimes we blame the devil because we don’t want to wrestle with the thought God was involved; that at some level He had to have “allowed” the circumstance that led to our disappointment and pain. Many times we walk away from God because we don’t have the answer to those questions.

So, we keep blaming Him, the devil, or ourselves, and we look for comfort in other things. The reality is we have to struggle and wrestle with these thoughts and accusations to find His peace. We have to press in deeper to Him and to His presence to find the answers to our pain.

Revelation Is Found in His Presence.

There are mysteries in the Kingdom of God we don’t understand, and without His revelation, we cannot ever hope to understand them. It only stands to reason that an infinite God would be beyond the understanding of a finite people. Yet, this infinite God wants to be understood. He wants us to wrestle with these issues that have brought us so much pain.

In the story of creation found in the bible, shortly after Adam and Eve had eaten of the forbidden fruit, we read this passage from Genesis 3:8:

“And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”

Strangely, I’ve always found this verse to be comforting – even though it marked the end of their lives in the garden and the beginning of man’s toil and pain outside of it.

I find it comforting because of the image of God, the creator of the universe, walking in the garden and enjoying His creation. There is an intimacy being communicated here easily missed by the circumstances Adam and Eve have through their disobedience.

This passage suggests this was a normal occurrence for Adam and Eve and the Lord. The reference to Adam and Eve hiding from His presence indicates they normally wouldn’t do that; instead, they would join with Him, in His presence and His walk through the garden.

I sometimes imagine what that must have been like. It wasn’t a time of silence and reflection as God, the creator of all things, walked majestically through His creation. I think, in reality, it was a precious and intimate time of wonder, learning, and revelation as the creator, their Father, revealed His creation to the children He entrusted it to. I can imagine the questions Adam and Eve must have asked and the awe His answers must have inspired.

Even though Adam was there from the beginning, it was all a mystery to him, and it was the Father’s delight to open up the mystery and begin to reveal its secrets to His creation, His children. I can’t fathom what a thrill or how exciting it must have been every day as Adam waited for his creator to “walk through the garden in the cool of the day.”

Much of life is learning to live in “the mysteries” of God. It’s not always an easy place to be because we constantly want to know “why.” We’re not satisfied with cliché answers like, “it was just her time to go.” We want real answers, but those answers are hard to find. In the process, we have to be willing to live with the mystery while continuing to struggle with those answers that seem out of our grasp.

Here’s the “upside down” part again: I think intimacy many times is found in the mystery. The mystery can be something that drives us toward a relationship with the only one who can reveal and unwrap those things we don’t understand, like Adam and Eve walking in the garden with God.

“Thus says the Lord who made the earth, the Lord who formed it to establish it—the Lord is his name:  Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.” (Jeremiah 33:2-3 ESV)

The phrase “hidden things” is actually one word in Hebrew—basar. It means things inaccessible by fortification. God is saying to Jeremiah, “If you will call to me and seek me, I will answer you and reveal highly fortified things to you that you would NEVER be able to access without me.”

It’s an invitation to come inside the walls of the castle of the King and be intimate. It implies the creator of the universe wants us to know Him experientially, not just mentally. That’s why the answers many times are fortified and impossible to know or understand. He wants us to seek Him and find Him. He walks with us, talks with us, leads us and invites us to use our senses and know He is good, that He is for us and has a plan to redeem what has been lost. What an amazingly loving Father we serve.

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!” (Psalm 34:8 ESV)

I don’t want to mislead anyone or for you to misunderstand what has been said. Not everything will be revealed when we want it to be revealed—some things we may never know in this lifetime. But when we accept the invitation to intimacy, then even when we don’t understand, when we don’t know the “why,” we have this promise: “And the peace of God [that peace which reassures the heart, that peace] which transcends all understanding, [that peace which] stands guard over your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus [is yours].”  (Philippians 4:7 AMP)

Learning to live in the mystery is paramount to living a life of peace and joy in Christ Jesus. It once again becomes an issue of trust. Trust is not something we usually learn on mountain tops, it’s generally what we learn in the valleys—in the dark places and seasons of our lives. It’s in the darkness that the light shines its brightest.

Something else to note:

If we are seeking answers rather than relationship, both will slip through our fingers. It’s intimacy our Father is after, and He will use the mystery to bring us there. He longs for you to walk with Him in the “cool of the day,” to seek His face and to know HIM. It’s in knowing Him, we find revelation and peace.

An Invitation to Adventure

I don’t know that I’ve met anyone that doesn’t dream of adventure. Even as children we have dreams of being an astronaut, or a pirate, or a knight in shining armor. We imagine ourselves as firefighters, pilots, warriors, princesses, and kings. Some of us pursue and catch our dreams and live the adventure. And yet for many, maybe even for most, life happens and they find themselves pursuing happiness, comfort, and peace. In the process, they find neither adventure nor the happiness they’ve so diligently sought after.

I was watching a video recently that reminded me that Christ’s invitation to follow Him did not come with a promise of happiness or exemption from suffering, rather it was an invitation to an adventure. An adventure full of risk and reward, hardship and joy, chaos and peace.

In fact, an adventure would not be an adventure without risk, sacrifice, and suffering. Those are some of the ingredients that go into making a worthwhile exploit. On the journey there will also be joy, peace, wonder, and amazement, but those things come at a cost. The invitation to follow Christ is an invitation to join Him in The Grand Adventure of all time. The pursuit is not happiness, the pursuit is the One we are following…Jesus Christ. There will be pitfalls, pain, and disappointment along the way (all great adventures have them). There will be moments where you want to quit, give up, and go home. Abandon the journey.

There will also be moments of great satisfaction, amazing peace, and inexplicable joy. It’s a paradox, and it can’t always be explained. But ultimately, there will be this moment where we catch what we are pursuing…and we will look Him in the face and see Him in all His glory. In that moment, all the pain, all the heartache, and all the tears will disappear. We will look back on our journey and think, “what a ride!”

Until then, we must stay in the fight…and it is a fight. Any journey worth taking will require us to push through, stay the course, and war against the constant desire to quit.

The past 3 years for our family have been full of agony, despair, and pain. But we are still in the fight. It’s difficult and I still have days where I want to quit. In fact, this past week has been full of “throw in the towel” moments. I actually began writing this blog 2 weeks ago, and then I was hit with the weight of everything we’re carrying. So, I didn’t finish writing because I lost my perspective. I’ve had to push through and find that place of pursuit that enables me to get back in the fight…it’s a constant battle when we choose the adventure over comfort.

But make no mistake, choosing comfort and happiness is no less problematic. In fact, the end result will ultimately prove to be worse. So, stay in the fight. Don’t quit. An adventure beyond your wildest dreams is waiting.

Peace.

Overwhelmed

I wasn’t certain how to label this message. So, I went for the simple and “to the point” title. The bottom line is I have felt overwhelmed many times the past two years, and especially the last few months. It’s why I haven’t written very much recently…I felt overwhelmed and empty.

But what does it mean to be overwhelmed? According to the Oxford Dictionary, overwhelmed means to “bury or drown beneath a huge mass.” Yep, I would say that pretty much describes it.

The second definition is equally noteworthy, and complements the first, it means to be given “too much to handle.”

Let me give you some background. For those of you who have been following our journey, you know that in July of 2020, we lost our twenty year-old daughter suddenly and tragically, while living 6,000 miles away. Then, we transitioned our family back to the United States, a place we had not lived for 16 years (and our two youngest had never lived). One year later, we lost our pastor and friend suddenly as well as another long-term friend and mentor.

But the journey doesn’t end there. Three weeks ago Michelle lost her father to a long-term illness, and just yesterday we lost one of our senior Turkish leaders, and one of Michelle’s closest and dearest friends.

I find myself lost for words. It would be easy for me to just say, I’ve had enough. I can’t do this anymore. It’s even easier to target God as the culprit and lay all the blame at His feet. Honestly, I’ve had many of those moments – He is an easy target when you’re lost, hurting, and confused.

Most of my life I’ve heard the words, “God will never give you more than you can handle.” That’s untrue and misleading.

Here is what Paul told the Corinthians: “For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself.” 2 Corinthians 1:8

Ouch. That hurts and it’s not encouraging. It means that God will allow us to walk through things that overwhelm us. Why? Well, let’s look at the next verse in that passage and see: “Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.“

He will give us more than we can handle to push us into the shadow of HIS wings, into HIS strong tower. So there is a purpose to our pain. There is a purpose to the burden and weight that we have to carry at times. There is a purpose to our stretching.

For years Michelle and I and our ministry had received promises out of Isaiah 54:2-3, “2Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes. 3For you will spread abroad to the right and to the left, and your offspring will possess the nations and will people the desolate cities.”

The premise is that in order for God to give us more, we have to increase our capacity to hold it. The more capacity we have, the more God can pour into us. On paper, it’s a beautiful promise – especially the verse about possessing the nations and populating the desolate cities. However, to get to that verse, you have to go through verse two. Verse two requires a stretching. OK Lord. How bad could it be?

Well, first of all, stretching is painful. After a while, it can make you feel worn down or thinned out. I like how Bilbo Baggins said it in Lord of the Rings, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” Eventually, if you stretch something too much, it will tear. It can become something that is more than we can handle…despairing unto death.

As I was reading over Isaiah 54 a few days after Michelle’s dad passed, I thought to the Lord, “I can’t take anymore stretching. Please Lord, can we stop? I feel like I’m breaking.” For me, it truly was a moment of brokenness and despair. It was too much and I didn’t feel that I could go any further without tearing. I was tired of sacrifice, suffering, and especially death. I sincerely wanted the Lord to make it stop.

And then, I heard the Lord so clearly say, “Mark, I can make it stop, but this will be your capacity and I have so very much more to give you.”

There is a parable given by Jesus in Matthew 25 that has always been my motivator for pursuing the Kingdom of God. Jesus is talking about the faithful servant, and He says to the servant after he has fulfilled, with excellence, what his Master has asked him to do, “Well done, good and faithful servant…enter your rest.” I want, with all my heart, to hear those words from Jesus when I walk into eternity. I want to hear Him call my name and tell me that I did well, that I left nothing on the table, that I gave Him EVERYTHING…”Well done, Mark, enter into your rest!”

So, there I was, face down on the carpet, crying my eyes out and confronted with a difficult decision. God said He can stop the stretching – but that will be my limit, that will be my capacity, and I won’t have the fullness of what God has planned for me. Believe it or not, it took me a couple of days to come to a decision (just being transparent and real). I really want the stretching to end. If I’m honest, I still do. However, I want the fullness of God in my life more. I want ALL He has for me. I do not want the pain and fear to dictate my capacity to hold the promises of God.

So, Lord, have your way in me. Stretch me until I have the capacity to hold every ounce of every plan and purpose that you have designed for my life. You have permission to push, pull, and prod until you get me where I need to be.

Do.Not.Hold.Back.

“Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering…the love of God did not protect His own Son…He will not necessarily protect us – not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.” ~Elisabeth Elliot (Christian Author, speaker, and Missionary)

Is God Good All the Time?

It’s typically the first question that a person must come to terms with in their pursuit of the eternal: Is God good? In wrestling with that issue, other questions usually comes to mind and they usually surround our circumstances, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It’s easy to proclaim God’s goodness when things are going well in our lives and in the lives of those we love, but what about those seasons in our lives when things seemingly fall apart? Who is God in those moments of our lives?

Over the last two years, the scripture that I’ve struggled and wrestled with the most is found in the book of James. In chapter 1 verse 2, James writes, “Count it all joy, when you fall into various trials….” The warning here is clear: we will have trials and struggles, we will face pain, disappointment, and grief.

Wait! That doesn’t sound very “good” to me.

Everyone reading this post has stories of difficulties, pain, and suffering. We all have them. For some of us it’s relationship issues, for others it may be financial, and for yet others, it’s loss of some sort, or, for many, it’s a combination of all of the above. However, every day we face new problems, terrible circumstances, and difficult decisions.

Consequently, it’s hard not to measure God’s goodness based on our personal experience and perception of His faithfulness. This is the tricky part of focusing on the “hand of God.” We need to recognize His faithfulness in our lives, but our humanity tends to be a foggy lens and a dirty filter.

When I stop to take account of my life, I can easily see the MANY moments where He has been faithful in my life and I’m rightly encouraged to focus on these things. He has been faithful to me. But there have been many seasons and moments where I’ve questioned where God was in my pain. Unfortunately, the good and the bad tend to become convoluted in our attempts to understand these questions. When that happens, our faith can, many times, be what suffers.

When God’s faithfulness becomes our measure of His goodness we are in jeopardy of losing the truth. As significant as His faithfulness is, it is not the basis or the foundation of His goodness. We should never equate His goodness with His hand, His goodness is only truly seen when we seek His face. His hand represents the outpouring, the overflow of His goodness, but His face is who He is! His goodness, therefore, is not represented by what He has done for us, but, rather, by who He is. He IS good. Apart from God, goodness does not exist. When we come to that realization in our lives, we can then say, “God is good, but this is not.”

This perspective then puts our “joy” as James wrote, squarely on our decision to believe in who HE IS. That’s why James chose the word “Count it” (or “consider it” in some translations). In the Greek, it’s the word “hegiomai” which means “to lead or govern.” We lead ourselves into joy WHEN we have moments that make us question God’s faithfulness, knowing that He is good, all the time, regardless of our circumstances.

Why is this important? For the past two years as our family has struggled through loss and grief, we have also struggled to hold on to our faith. We’ve had to answer the questions of “why?” and “how could You let this happen?” If our faith was not grounded in the understanding that He IS good, our walk with the Lord would have been overtaken by our grief, anger, and disappointment. This is why it’s called faith – “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the assurance of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11)

Martin Luther once wrote, “This is true faith, a living confidence in the goodness of God.” When we are constantly associating God’s goodness with the things we see, we are not walking in faith – we’re looking for God to prove Himself to us through our circumstances. It’s when we choose to believe, have faith, that God IS good, that we can push through the storms in life and lay down next to Jesus in the stern of the boat and rest, knowing that He is good and He will get us to where we are supposed to go – in the midst of the pain, the disappointment, and the grief. It’s important to note that Jesus did not calm the seas when Peter stepped out onto the water. Peter didn’t just walk on water, he walked on water IN THE STORM and IN THE MIDST OF THE WAVES!

God has called us to walk on water – even when the storms are raging – I would go as far as to say, ESPECIALLY in the storms. As Myles Munroe wrote, “Your faith is only as strong as the crisis it survives.” These are testing moments to see if we will trust in who HE IS and not just in what He does.

It comes down to what we are pursuing. If we are pursuing His hand, we will find His goodness difficult to hold on to, but when we seek his face, we come to KNOW Him and His goodness. It’s in those moments of pursuit that we begin to understand, even in our darkest days, that, “We don’t have the capacity to exaggerate God’s goodness. We can distort it or misrepresent it, but we can never exaggerate it.” (Bill Johnson)

Peace.

Living BEYOND Our Borders

I don’t know about you, but in my life, there has always been a finality to the word “failure.” For me, I’ve had to overcome this concept that to fail means that “it’s over. I lost.” 

Failure can define a career, a competition, a mistake, an accident, or any number of other disappointments that happen to you or around you, but it cannot define YOU – unless you let it.

Michelle and I have failed in many things. We have made poor choices, we’ve had others make poor choices that effected our lives and our plans, and we’ve had things happen for which we’ve had zero control – things that have left us reeling, lost, and feeling like failures.

Yet, here we are – still traveling the road that God put us on and still moving forward – even if sometimes it feels like we’re stumbling or falling forward. That is because failure IS NOT final. Failure is part of the journey, but it doesn’t have to be part of the destination.

The goal is that we learn from our failures so that we have a better understanding of the road that we are traveling – making us better able to see the potholes, pitfalls, and obstacles along the way.

God has designed it that way. Failure is part of the process. So is pain. When we learn to embrace the process, to not fear failure or run from the pain, God is able to give us insight and understanding that will take us to our destination. He is also able to use our failures to strengthen our emotional and spiritual muscles and to give us “thick skin” so that we’re able to handle even more difficulties and disappointments!

It sounds strange to say it, but failure, disappointment, and pain don’t have to be our enemies – they can be our friends. You know, the strange, nerdy ones that teach us things without us knowing they are teaching us things.

Embrace failure. Embrace disappointment. Embrace pain. Your future will depend on how well you welcome those things that were once enemies.

Ultimately, learning to embrace those things that, in the past, have brought us pain and anxiety, depends on our willingness to step outside our comfort zone – to live beyond our borders so to speak.

Obviously, having lived 16 years in the Middle East, we have a slightly different perspective on what it means to live beyond our borders. It’s difficult, uncomfortable, humbling, and painful. It is also educational, life-altering, worldview changing, and beautiful. It’s not either/or – it’s both/and.

Learning to embrace disappointment and failure can be the same. Difficult AND educational, uncomfortable AND life-altering, humbling AND worldview changing, painful AND beautiful.

The defining question is “where are you with God?” Reaching your destination is not dependent on how much pain you were able to avoid, it’s dependent on where God was in the midst of it. Are you letting Him lead still, or did your pain push Him away? You cannot effectively embrace the failures and disappointments if you are not already embracing the Father and abiding, dwelling, living in His presence.

It’s in the habitation of His glory and presence that we find peace, joy, and victory while we’re seemingly in the grip of defeat.

A Pile of Ashes

“Light the fire in my soul, fan the flame, make me whole. Lord, You know just where I’ve been, so light the fire in my heart again.” Light the Fire by Bill Maxwell

Sometimes we look at the disappointment, pain and failures of life and feel like all our hopes and dreams have burned to the ground. We see nothing but a pile of ashes and the loss of those things that we had built a life around. As Michelle and I have walked through a season of intense pain and disappointment, we’ve had to fight against the desire to quit or give up. We have a big pile of ashes, but that can’t be our focus. Ashes are the result of an intense fire. Knowing that, I can’t help but look at our ashes and our loss and think, “what a blaze that must have been.”

One of my favorite historical figures (if you can call him that) was Jim Elliot. He literally gave his life for the Gospel of Jesus Christ as he went to minister in Ecuador. He was also a prolific journal writer. He wrote many amazing and revelatory things in his journal over his short life.

One of my favorites is this:

“’He makes His ministers a flame of fire.’ Am I ignitable? God deliver me from the dread asbestos of ‘other things.’ Saturate me with the oil of the Spirit that I may be a flame. But flame is transient, often short-lived. Canst thou bear this, my soul – short life? In me there dwells the Spirit of the Great Short-Lived, whose zeal for God’s house consumed Him. ‘Make me Thy Fuel, Flame of God.”

All too often we live life for the benefit of ourselves or, maybe more honorific and selfless, our family. We want safety and security, so we vigorously plan and insure our future. We fall on the common and responsible rationalization that we are simply being “good stewards” with what God has given us. That may be true enough, but what is it doing to our fire?

In the days and weeks following the death of our daughter, I reviewed my life’s choices many times over. The evaluation always began with “what if.” What if we had never moved to Turkey? What if I made Aly stay with us after she turned 18? What if I lose someone else? What if, what if, what if.

When we base our God-given purpose on “what if” rather than “yes, Lord”, we have already begun to apply the “dread asbestos” to our lives and quench the fire and passion for the things of God. Even when the “what if’s” lead us to do the seemingly “responsible” things. When we put our safety and security above our mandate to follow after God, we have effectively traded the Kingdom of Heaven for something else.

Let me clarify. There is nothing inherently wrong with safety and planning for the future. We ARE instructed to be good stewards with what our heavenly Father has given us, and should do that to the best of our abilities. It becomes “fire quenching” when our security becomes the foundation of how and why we live our lives.

When we become motivated by safety and security, we will struggle to keep fanning the flames, because the fire will threaten everything we’ve tried to secure.

Hebrews 12:28-29 says, “Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear. For our God is a consuming fire.”

If He is a consuming fire, and we desire to stand in His presence, then the logical conclusion is that His fire will consume us. The word “consume” means, “to do away with completely, use up, destroy.” The bottom line is that we are not here to live safe lives. We are here for a purpose, and that purpose is to advance HIS kingdom and lead others to the all consuming fire of His presence.

When Christ is our foundation, a relationship that is built on faith, our security comes from the trust and assurance that He will give us beauty for any ashes that are the result of setting ourselves on fire for Him.

The amazing thing about it is that in the fire of His presence there is peace and joy – they coexist with the fire. In fact, in my experience, true peace and true joy can ONLY be found in the His presence. Do not be deceived, the fire is hot and it hurts when things are burned to ashes, but we are moving toward a Kingdom of hope and purpose, where “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4 ESV)

Light the fire in my soul again, Lord and I’ll let it burn.

Peace.

This is NOT my home

One month ago, our family boarded a flight to Turkey. It’s a flight that we’ve taken more times than I can count over the past twenty years. Turkey has been our home for most of that time. But, two years ago, we transitioned our family back to the United States. Now, as our time here comes to a close and we return to our “passport country,” we are all once again dealing with the tearing that happens when you live with a foot in two different worlds.

We had a last dinner tonight with the pastors that we installed to lead the church that we planted 14 years ago. They are not just our replacements, they are our partners, our friends, our family. For many years we worked side by side. Now, we live with an ocean between us as we continue to follow the leading of the Holy Spirit. It’s bittersweet. The goodbyes always come with tears and the pain of being separated again. I get tired of the disappointment and I get tired of watching my kids cry because they’ve had to say goodbye more times in their short lives than most people in a lifetime. It’s uncomfortable and if I’m honest, it wears on me.

You know what? Maybe that’s a good thing.

We need to be disappointed with this world, not infatuated with it. It can be alluring and enticing, but it is actually full of pain and suffering. Our disappointment, coupled with the Holy Spirit’s revelation and grace, will drive us to long for our true home. It will keep us from losing sight of who we truly are, citizens of the Kingdom of God and it’s ambassadors, and help us to stay focused on the fact that this rock is not our home.

Before our daughter passed away, I would have told you I longed for Jesus’ return, but it would not have been the truth. I was looking more to my future on this planet than I was to eternity with my Savior. I was thinking about my retirement and financial security. I was looking to the longevity of the ministry and the legacy I would leave behind. I was thinking about those grand-babies and what they would grow up to become. I was looking to live out the remainder of my life with Michelle in comfort, peace, and purpose. I’m guessing our plans were not much different from anyone else’s when it comes to thinking about the future.

Yet, as I sat considering what we had lost in the days following our daughter’s home-going, and our subsequent transition back to the states, I found none of those things had a hold on me any longer. I am longing for my home and the comforting arms of my Heavenly Father.

Don’t get me wrong, I will thoroughly enjoy walking my youngest daughter down the aisle when she finds that young man God has placed in front of her, and I will be “over the moon” with joy when I hold that first grand-baby and any others who follow. Michelle and I will continue to enjoy all the ministry, travels, and life God puts before us, but none of that will ever have a “hold” on me again. Every day I will pray for Him to come, and I will look to the heavens with hopeful expectation today might be that day.

I long for those “walks in the garden in the cool of the day.” I am near tears when I think of my Savior revealing the mysteries of His creation to me as I sit at His feet.

I love how C.S. Lewis describes it in the last chapter of his last book in the Chronicles of Narnia:

“And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read:  which goes on forever:  in which every chapter is better than the one before.”[i]

While the Chronicles of Narnia is a work of fiction, C.S. Lewis’ words, I believe, were meant to mirror another work that is NOT fiction, written by John the Beloved but revealed by our heavenly Father,

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.’ And he who was seated on the throne said, ‘Behold, I am making all things new.’” (Revelation 21:3-4 ESV)

My heart yearns for the other side of eternity. It’s my home and I cannot wait to be there. My disappointment and grief brought me to this place of hope. They could have delivered me to a darker place, a place devoid of light, joy, and peace, but instead of becoming lost in the darkness, my pain and disappointment has led me toward the light. I allowed my Savior to put me on a new path. I stopped resisting and I surrendered to His will and to His presence.

Our journey is not done. Remember C.S. Lewis said, this has “only been the cover and the title page.” Michelle and I are still a work in progress. Our marriage is not perfect because we are not perfect. Our children are not perfect, and our lives are far from it. We are living from valley to valley and from glory to glory – because this is not our home, and it never will be. Every chapter will be better than the one before. Our story this side of eternity is still being written.

Peace.

[i] Lewis, C.S. The Last Battle. New York, New York: HarperCollins, 1956.

What I’ve learned About Grief

“I don’t want to be in the same place two years from now. I want to be better and further down the road, healed and moving toward my purpose.” I said that about two years ago after the sudden and tragic loss of our twenty year old daughter. My expectation was that “time heals all wounds.” Yet, many days, I feel like I’m doing worse – further behind than where I was when I made that statement. The reality is that our family has NO reference point for anything that we’re going through. Every day brings new challenges and revelations, many of which blow our old expectations out of the water.

I’ve learned a lot about grief and disappointment through this process, and every day I’m learning more. I’ve learned that you cannot put a timetable on it – it doesn’t work that way. Everyone processes disappointment differently, so you cannot compare one persons journey to another. I’ve also learned that a person’s “recovery” is directly correlated to the quality of the relationships that they have in their lives. We had friends and family that laid down their lives for days following our loss to love on us and serve us. They continue to do that two years later. I cannot imagine having to walk the last two years alone. I’m not sure I would have made it. So, I’ve learned a lot about what it means to be a friend.

I’ve also learned I have a real issue with the phrase “moving on.” It says to me, “leave the past behind and get on with your life.” Unfortunately, after losing a loved one, that’s not ever possible – not even if I wanted it to be. I like the phrase “moving forward” better – it speaks to the truth of what should be happening. When we move forward, there is room to bring some things with you. Some of those things may be left on the roadside along the way, and some of them may become a permanent part of the journey, but the journey can still begin while making the decision as to what needs to be left behind. So many people are still sitting at the starting gate of their grief and disappointment because they are still struggling with sadness, discouragement, and possibly depression. What I’ve learned is that the journey should begin even though the pain hasn’t ended. I am not guaranteed a wonderful life. I’ve actually bargained for a cross, so the only guarantee is that I will have to carry it.

So, there will be storms. I was reminded that God did not calm the sea before calling Peter out of the boat. Peter stepped out anyway. Sometimes it’s the Jesus IN the storm that we need when our faith begins to fail.

I know we all want the wonderful and easy life that we feel we are promised when we decide to follow Jesus. But, that’s not what the promise is. In fact, we are promised persecution and disappointment and pain. It’s easy to be a “follower of Christ” when everything is going the way you expected. The real test of your commitment, however, is when things go violently wrong. It’s through the journey, and all the messy encounters and storms along the way, that we truly begin to know the God of the storms and get a sense of how real our commitment to His kingdom is. It’s when we begin to move forward in that revelation, that healing begins.

Until I made that discovery, recently I might add, I was constantly searching for “the end.” That magical place where the pain ended and my new life began. If I look really hard, my new life actually began the day my daughter died. It was a life born in pain, suffering, sorrow – and hope. Those things can and do coexist – if we allow them. Unfortunately, we don’t want them to coexist, so we try to choose one or the other and, in the process, we short-change our healing.

When I realized that I could move forward and still carry the grief and the hope, the hope began to grow and the grief began to fade. I suspect that the grief will never go away completely. There will always be triggers that cause the pain to blossom and bloom – triggers like her birthday, Father’s Day, and the day she passed out of this world and into eternity. Those days, however, will become events along the way and no longer an ever present part of the journey. Hope will one day take the reigns and lead the way.

I am excited about the future. I wish that my daughter was still a part of it, and that realization will always bring disappointment, sadness, and some pain, but God’s promises are always to bring light where there is darkness, hope where there is discouragement, and peace where there is chaos. He truly makes beauty from ashes. It simply requires that we start the journey even in the midst of our pain, grief, and trauma. Stay the course, and He will show you where to go.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

Sadness

The 4th of July, for our family, will always be a holiday with an asterisk. A day we celebrate the independence of our nation, but also the last full day that our daughter laughed and enjoyed life this side of eternity.

A joyful day, and a day of sadness.

All of us have experienced sadness. Consequently, it’s a sensitive topic for conversation because it evokes feelings of pain and disappointment. It’s difficult talking to people who are sad, because we don’t know what to say, or how to act. It’s also difficult to talk to people when YOU are sad, because you don’t want to be the “downer” at the party.

The reality is that I’m sad. I’ve been sad for a long time. Two years to be exact. This past year, surprisingly, has been more difficult than the first. I thought it would get easier, maybe it will, but for now, it still hurts.

Most of us don’t know what to say to people who are sad. We want to cheer them up. That’s always my first thought – what can I do or say to make them feel better? We try to comfort them with statements, apologies or questions like, “I’m so sorry.” “We’re here for you if you ever need to talk.” “We’re praying for you.” “Is there anything we can do?”

All good things. And, if they are followed with sincerity and sacrifice, they do bring comfort and peace. However, most of the time, they are just cliche or expected words that are offered up during impossibly difficult situations. I’ve said them. You’ve said them. We’ve all said them.

The reality, that I’m slowly discovering (and I do mean slowly), that sadness is necessary. We want it to go away because it makes us uncomfortable. Whether we are the ones that are sad or the sadness belongs to someone we know or care for, we are uncertain how to behave or react. If I start crying, how is that going to make everyone else feel? Will they surround me with compassion and understanding or will they distance themselves from me and avoid me in the future? So, we paint on a smile and we pretend we’re okay. We say things like, “I’m doing better than I should be,” when in actuality, we’re a broken, shattered wreck today.

We’ve been in Turkey for the past two weeks and will be here for two weeks longer. The day we found out about Aly’s accident, we were here, on our way to church. Now, two years later, we’ve returned to the scene of the most traumatic event in our lives. It’s not been easy. It’s been harder than I thought it would be. Over the last few days, sadness has wrapped itself around me like the waters of the sea. I’ve had moments where I felt I was drowning, and moments, if I’m honest, where I just wanted to.

BUT, this is just a season of sadness. I will have others. I will also have more seasons of joy and adventure, happiness and peace. I will have other traumatic events in my life, should the Lord tarry and I live long enough. It’s the ebb and tide of life. Those seasons in the dark places can kill us if we don’t understand, and set our expectations accordingly, that sadness will find it’s way into our lives from time to time.

It’s okay to be sad. Sadness is actually like a pressure valve. It relieves pain when we open it and give it space to do it’s job. We can also help others open that valve by creating a “comfortable” space to be sad. I’ve had days where I just needed a shoulder to cry on…but was afraid to ask, afraid to create an uncomfortable place for someone else to be forced to walk into. It’s especially difficult for men I think. We need to know that we are not going to be seen as weak or overly sensitive. Yet, it’s as important, if not more so, for a man to be able to “open that valve” and let sadness have it’s season.

Don’t fear sadness. Placed in the hands of our Father, it can be a pathway out of the darkness.

Psalm 34:18, (ESV) “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

Ecclesiastes 7:3, (NLT) “Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us.”