A Long Time Ago ...
*** PREFACE *** A long time ago, I used to blog. We started a blog when we were leaving for Peru and it continued for awhile. It was also very freeing to write out how our life was going in the years after. Someone very smart once said that blogging was cheaper than therapy and they were right.
aI wrote this many years ago. I never posted it because it felt too personal, in fact I have plenty of posts that I never posted because they were so personal. But I went thru several posts that I never posted and it was so cool to see where we were and where we are now. I thought I wanted to post it so I could have it for later. I did update it a tiny bit since it's been so long and we have changed since then. I also added some photos, just for fun.
Anyways, too personal or not, here it is:
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I wanted to run until I hurt, until my body hurt as much as my heart and soul hurt, until my hurt could feel the hurt and understand how much it hurt. Is that too much hurt? I wanted the deep inside to feel it and take it away. But I couldn't run that far. Reality stopped me just short of the end of the road. I ran back and made another loop, times two.
aI wrote this many years ago. I never posted it because it felt too personal, in fact I have plenty of posts that I never posted because they were so personal. But I went thru several posts that I never posted and it was so cool to see where we were and where we are now. I thought I wanted to post it so I could have it for later. I did update it a tiny bit since it's been so long and we have changed since then. I also added some photos, just for fun.
Anyways, too personal or not, here it is:
*******************************************************************************
I wanted to run until I hurt, until my body hurt as much as my heart and soul hurt, until my hurt could feel the hurt and understand how much it hurt. Is that too much hurt? I wanted the deep inside to feel it and take it away. But I couldn't run that far. Reality stopped me just short of the end of the road. I ran back and made another loop, times two.
By the 4th loop, my head felt a little clearer and my muscles were stretched and ready for more laps. But the dark sky stopped me from going for a 5th loop. Rain was coming.
Every emotion and nerve-ending were rubbed raw.
I ran out of desperation. Stress had taken over my body and was forcing its way out. The job was taking its toll on me, the kids. Brent, my Sunday school class, and oh, yeah my relationship with God.
That one Thursday in September nearly killed us all. The job had to go. In a flurry of tears and embarrassment, I quit. It was a rash decision, but who cares anyway. I cared. I had never quit a job like that before in my life! What would people think? The assistant principal understood what Brent and I explained to her. She gave mercy and found a substitute who was willing to start right away. Bless her.
The molecules in my body were still bouncing around in every direction as I walked back into the house. Brent wondered where I gone. I told him it was either running or I would spontaneously combust.
We felt as if we had confessed every sin we had ever committed to everyone in town. I felt like our souls had been split in two and lay open on the table for anyone to come and gawk.
Could we just sink through the floor into a new world? If we closed our eyes tight and clicked our heels together 3 times could we be whisked back to the end of the summer?
Of course, none of that worked. There wasn't anything left to do, but believe. But believe what? When you feel as though the hammer has pounded and the Judge has taken His seat, what then? What's left, but the sentencing? And what of the sentencing? It's all deserved. There's not even reason to speak. The bleeding truth left bare on the table had speaks plenty for you.
Then there is this message delivered to me right in beginning of what was a long, hard storm,
"I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith might not fail." Shocking, isn't it? Even in the lowest of lows, God just inserts Himself in there with hope. Even if it seems like just might be only a glimmer of hope. Do we dare believe it? Do we dare believe that grace might reach this far? Far down to us who have nothing else but accept the sentence we are due.
Hope rings out. If we keep the faith, we won't fail this trial. That was the prayer of One who knows all things, right? Then surely He is still with us. Surely, He will help us! The Judge rests and hands the hammer to the One who prayed. The "what-if" question still bounces around in my heart. What if the Judge decides to take back the hammer? What then?! Panic! Oh God, I couldn't bear it! Please no! The message comes again, "[he] has asked, but I have prayed...."
When Jesus looks at you and says the words, "But I..." What do you do? How do you feel?
I feel like the world goes silent. It is complete, ever-lasting, breath-taking, unmerited favor for Jesus to speak into your life, "but I." It is breathing again.
That gives me the courage to have faith. It's all that is left to believe in the One who prayed for us. Our faith comes minute by minute. Heavy step by heavy step, we move forward.
Pretty soon, it's evening and then sun comes up the next day. I can hardly believe it. A day turns into a week and a week into a month. A long month, but time kept going on. The beating our souls took were being sewn up slowly and painfully. Friends who offer prayers also helped add stitches to our the deep tear in our hearts. We winced and cringed our ways through the hard days of coming back together. Humility came like a brick in the face. Hard, fast, and painful. Embarrassment took residence upon our doorstep, but we walked forward.
The trial has given us more knowledge that Jesus is stronger. It has produced more desire to fight to keep the faith He gave that did not fail to believe Him.
We survived. He answered His own prayer: our faith did not fail. Thank You, Jesus.
I ran out of desperation. Stress had taken over my body and was forcing its way out. The job was taking its toll on me, the kids. Brent, my Sunday school class, and oh, yeah my relationship with God.
That one Thursday in September nearly killed us all. The job had to go. In a flurry of tears and embarrassment, I quit. It was a rash decision, but who cares anyway. I cared. I had never quit a job like that before in my life! What would people think? The assistant principal understood what Brent and I explained to her. She gave mercy and found a substitute who was willing to start right away. Bless her.
The molecules in my body were still bouncing around in every direction as I walked back into the house. Brent wondered where I gone. I told him it was either running or I would spontaneously combust.
We felt as if we had confessed every sin we had ever committed to everyone in town. I felt like our souls had been split in two and lay open on the table for anyone to come and gawk.
Could we just sink through the floor into a new world? If we closed our eyes tight and clicked our heels together 3 times could we be whisked back to the end of the summer?
Of course, none of that worked. There wasn't anything left to do, but believe. But believe what? When you feel as though the hammer has pounded and the Judge has taken His seat, what then? What's left, but the sentencing? And what of the sentencing? It's all deserved. There's not even reason to speak. The bleeding truth left bare on the table had speaks plenty for you.
Then there is this message delivered to me right in beginning of what was a long, hard storm,
"I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith might not fail." Shocking, isn't it? Even in the lowest of lows, God just inserts Himself in there with hope. Even if it seems like just might be only a glimmer of hope. Do we dare believe it? Do we dare believe that grace might reach this far? Far down to us who have nothing else but accept the sentence we are due.
Hope rings out. If we keep the faith, we won't fail this trial. That was the prayer of One who knows all things, right? Then surely He is still with us. Surely, He will help us! The Judge rests and hands the hammer to the One who prayed. The "what-if" question still bounces around in my heart. What if the Judge decides to take back the hammer? What then?! Panic! Oh God, I couldn't bear it! Please no! The message comes again, "[he] has asked, but I have prayed...."
When Jesus looks at you and says the words, "But I..." What do you do? How do you feel?
I feel like the world goes silent. It is complete, ever-lasting, breath-taking, unmerited favor for Jesus to speak into your life, "but I." It is breathing again.
That gives me the courage to have faith. It's all that is left to believe in the One who prayed for us. Our faith comes minute by minute. Heavy step by heavy step, we move forward.
Pretty soon, it's evening and then sun comes up the next day. I can hardly believe it. A day turns into a week and a week into a month. A long month, but time kept going on. The beating our souls took were being sewn up slowly and painfully. Friends who offer prayers also helped add stitches to our the deep tear in our hearts. We winced and cringed our ways through the hard days of coming back together. Humility came like a brick in the face. Hard, fast, and painful. Embarrassment took residence upon our doorstep, but we walked forward.
We survived. He answered His own prayer: our faith did not fail. Thank You, Jesus.
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