I Am Here
I've been reluctant to write this week. Some of you know what the last few days have held in our community. Words cannot do justice to the things we've experienced. I'm not going to attempt to share it all. In fact, it's not my story to tell. It's my best friend, Brittani's story to share. This week her son was born. They had 73 precious minutes to hold him and pray over him and then he was whisked away into God's arms. I was honored to stand by their side and witness their strength and their faith. It was my honor to hold their precious son while he was living, and hold them as they said their farewells. Like I said, words will never be enough to describe the depths of what we've experienced this week. The paradox of grief in the midst of joy, of peace in the midst of questions. The agony of empty arms, and the comfort of a community of people holding up this precious family. This week has been life-changing.
They would be the first to tell you that God's grace has covered them until what we saw was not them, but Him. I've marveled at how God has shaped them, changed them, and carried them through this time. They had strength and poise that I cannot imagine at a time like this. They had a deep, unshakable peace through it all. They have walked through the waters and have not been consumed. They've claimed God's promises and He's been faithful.
And yet, this is a dark valley. The darkest they will likely ever walk through. I sit on the sidelines in many ways, asking God why this had to happen, grieving for them and with them. This road has been so hard. There have been moments of absolute glory and beauty, and yet it's dark. I have begged for peace. I've had hard questions and angry words for God. I've asked for just a glimpse of His presence, a reassurance that He was still in control. My faith has been so weak, especially compared to theirs. Again and again I've laid before God the passage from Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you; plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future." I asked God through tears, "Where is the hope? Where is the future? How do these plans prosper us? Please, let me see what you mean by prosper, because I can't see this the way you do!"
I feel like I've been groping in the darkness of circumstance, knowing in my head that He has our best in mind, but wanting desperately to believe it fully.
Someone at church prayed this morning, "Lord, there are those here who are hurting. Wouldn't you whisper to them right now, "I am here, and I love you." I felt like my world stopped. Right here, in the darkness and pain of this past month, in the midst of these circumstances, "I am here." In the midst of my questions, my doubts that he has our best in mind, "I love you."
And so, it feels like the first rays of sunlight are rising. It's been a dark night. The road ahead is still long and filled with grief. There will be days where it's a choice to believe those words. But I feel like God spoke them into my soul. I will believe them for myself. I will believe them on behalf of my friends when they don't have the strength to hold on to those promises. We will continue to walk this road together, and I will know that God has good in mind for them (and for me), that he has a hope and a future that are meant to prosper them. It's not all somewhere far off in the future. Right here, in the midst of the darkness, "I am here, and I love you."
They would be the first to tell you that God's grace has covered them until what we saw was not them, but Him. I've marveled at how God has shaped them, changed them, and carried them through this time. They had strength and poise that I cannot imagine at a time like this. They had a deep, unshakable peace through it all. They have walked through the waters and have not been consumed. They've claimed God's promises and He's been faithful.
And yet, this is a dark valley. The darkest they will likely ever walk through. I sit on the sidelines in many ways, asking God why this had to happen, grieving for them and with them. This road has been so hard. There have been moments of absolute glory and beauty, and yet it's dark. I have begged for peace. I've had hard questions and angry words for God. I've asked for just a glimpse of His presence, a reassurance that He was still in control. My faith has been so weak, especially compared to theirs. Again and again I've laid before God the passage from Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you; plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future." I asked God through tears, "Where is the hope? Where is the future? How do these plans prosper us? Please, let me see what you mean by prosper, because I can't see this the way you do!"
I feel like I've been groping in the darkness of circumstance, knowing in my head that He has our best in mind, but wanting desperately to believe it fully.
Someone at church prayed this morning, "Lord, there are those here who are hurting. Wouldn't you whisper to them right now, "I am here, and I love you." I felt like my world stopped. Right here, in the darkness and pain of this past month, in the midst of these circumstances, "I am here." In the midst of my questions, my doubts that he has our best in mind, "I love you."
And so, it feels like the first rays of sunlight are rising. It's been a dark night. The road ahead is still long and filled with grief. There will be days where it's a choice to believe those words. But I feel like God spoke them into my soul. I will believe them for myself. I will believe them on behalf of my friends when they don't have the strength to hold on to those promises. We will continue to walk this road together, and I will know that God has good in mind for them (and for me), that he has a hope and a future that are meant to prosper them. It's not all somewhere far off in the future. Right here, in the midst of the darkness, "I am here, and I love you."
