gospel

I don’t want to write about grief.

~ Ami ~ 5 Comments

A post for widows, but perhaps truth for many…

comfort

I don’t want to write about grief.

I sat brainstorming for my upcoming post for A Widow’s Might. “How can I encourage other widows today? What do these hurting sisters need to hear?”

A revelation lodged itself firmly in my heart. Though I’m responsible for a post about grief, I don’t want to write about it.

How utterly marvelous and liberating!

“Why? What do you mean?”

Let me back up a moment. Two weeks after my husband died, I was compelled to chronicle the aftermath publicly, to let others see the crushing pain, to not shy away from places some fear to tread.

I’m not one to run away, so I attacked grief, aggressively processing facet after facet. I allowed myself to be in the deep places. And it was not wrong for me to be there.

I’ve unpacked layer upon layer of sorrow, filling 100s of journal pages and constructing nearly 60 blog posts. Writing is an outlet where confusion turns to clarity, where tears funnel into something productive.

More importantly, writing is the place where I preach truth to myself. I had to be raw and honest, but I also had to show the radical hope found in Jesus Christ. Writing about my grief cemented the truths God made clear in the valley:

It’s been an immensely necessary and beautiful part of the journey. I think it may yet have its place, but today my heart says, “It’s time to write about other things.”

Perhaps then, the most liberating and radical truth I can share is this: we don’t have to stay in the stranglehold. Through Jesus, grief cannot utterly destroy. Rather, He crushed death to death, and He turns mourning into dancing. He teaches us to write about other things.

Grief does not define me, nor is it my identity.

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who love me and gave Himself for me.” Galatians 2:20 

Christ lives in me, and He defines me. Redeemed. Chosen. Adopted. Beloved. Complete. Whole.

Now don’t miss this, I’m still madly in love with my husband and miss him daily. I’m sure tears will still come at needed moments. Yet by grace, I walk forward.

And today, I don’t want to write about grief.

Father, through Jesus there is immense hope, confident expectation. Jesus took my spiritual death, and one day even physical death will be no more. Eternity awaits, forever with You. And these things fill my heart with joy! You will turn mourning into dancing and sorrow into gladness. God You were with me in the valley of death. You wept beside me there for many weeks. But now, I’m thankful You have led me from it. 

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!” Psalm 30:11-12

This post by Ami appeared first at anewseason.net

Reclaiming #Blessed

~ Ami ~ 3 Comments

HgZuGu3gSD6db21T3lxm_San-ZenoneBlessed. It’s a word that often makes my skin crawl.

“I’m so blessed.” I cringe at the statement, hoping no one else can see the involuntary shudder.

Blessed is a perfectly biblical word, so what’s the big deal? Aren’t you being cynical? Surely, you’re just bitter because others have what you want.

Yes, sometimes it’s hard to rejoice, but there’s no cynicism here.

I cringe because “blessed” seems to be merely a trend, a cliche, another word hijacked of its rich meaning.

#blessed…

“We just closed on our new house. #blessed”
“What a beautiful baby! #blessed”
“Praise God! My husband got a big promotion. #blessed”
“My awesome hubby just gave me the most gorgeous just because flowers. #blessed.”

Yes, blessed indeed.

“I just got diagnosed with cancer. #blessed”
“I’m so lonely I could scream. #blessed”
“We lost it all in an instant. #blessed”
“My husband died. #blessed”

Blessed? In these circumstances? I can see your mind reeling…

You’ll want to read the rest. Check out the full post at Intentional By Grace

Join me. #ReclaimBlessed

God is Sovereign. I am not.

~ Ami ~ 11 Comments

Sovereign2“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed in us.” Romans 8:18

As the jet ascended, Chicago’s city lights overtook the night, light saturating the terrain. It engulfed the darkness, and I marveled at its radiance. Cars became pin pricks in the distance. A clearly designed grid, created by humans minds, glowed against the black sky. From above there was order in neat squares.

To the right I could still see the rise of giant skyscrapers. Straight ahead the light ended abruptly; Lake Michigan was ink against the line of fire. It was an ethereal beauty, a peaceful calm, far removed from the congested streets, the homelessness, the hundreds of thousands of stories, the real-life struggles. Too soon though, the city’s brilliance receded into the distance. And there was darkness. How feeble was the light of much smaller towns. Light no longer engulfed the night.

But at 30,000 feet, I understood that darkness existed only in pockets. The inky patches didn’t frighten me because I could tell they didn’t last forever. Other cities, other towns slid into view. The light of one city emanated like spokes of a wheel, illumination concentrated at a central hub. Over other cities, light sprawled without any discernible pattern but still in magnificent contrast to the night.

From my vantage point, light interrupted darkness, darkness interrupted light, a constant ebb and flow. It reminded me of life- joy mingled with sorrow, sorrow mingled with joy.

“I could stay here, removed from the grit and messiness. I could stay in the place where I can see the grand design.”

Then my thoughts funneled to a single truth. God is sovereign. I am not. He is above all things. He understands all things. He is in control over all things. He sees the beginning and the end, the dark patches and the light.

Unlike a pilot, He doesn’t merely know the final destination, He sees the entire journey at once. I cannot claim to fully understand, but I know He guides all things. Through grief, I’ve learned to mine the depth of God’s sovereignty, and I’ve found it immensely comforting. God was sovereign over Jon’s death.

God knew the number of his days. (Psalm 139) My husband was supposed to die.

A high view of God’s sovereignty keeps me grounded in the reality that nothing could have thwarted His will. There were no imaginary days. The “what ifs” don’t exist. Likewise, though I long for an aerial view, God’s mercy limits my sight to the ground-level path in front of me.

Perhaps if I knew the future I would run away, afraid to face what is to come.

Of course, I would never trade loving and being so deeply loved by my husband! But had I glimpsed the future, would I have even started down the path with him. Would I have looked across time and accepted becoming a widow at 30?

Probably not. I might I have said, “Well Jonathan Atkins, you’re a wonderful guy, but there’s too much pain in that path. I’m not heading toward a world shattered and turned upside down.”

I might not have cared about the magnificent, radiant light that is following my the sea of ink. I may have said, “That darkness is too big, the night encompasses too much.”

Praise God I cannot see the aerial view! At ground level, He teaches me to trust Him. The One who sees the final city, will lead me safely to it.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” II Corinthians 4:17

Because I know God is sovereign, I know He has purpose. Nothing is arbitrary. No circumstances are futile. His plan is good, even when it includes immense, dark patches of suffering and trial. I know that’s a hard thing to hear. I’m right there with you! But let our frightened hearts rest in radical truth. For the Christian, darkness is swallowed by light. Through deepest black, Jesus is incomprehensible light.

He is peace that passes understanding. He is joy even in sorrow.

Though He is transcendent, He is also imminent. He is here. He is close. My Lord is not content to dwell far removed from the grit. Rather, He is also personal, deeply intimate, and close at hand when darkness seems to overwhelm. In His goodness He gives seas of ink. And In His goodness He gives cities of magnificent light.

Lord you are sovereign. You are in control over all things, and no one can thwart your plan. You are transcendent, but you are also personal. Thank you that my Savior is intimately acquainted with grief, and walks through darkness with me. You are radiant light. You are joy. I rest here today.

This post by Ami, appeared first at anewseason.net.

This Clumsy, Broken Thing

~ Ami ~ 4 Comments

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

I’m really clumsy.

If you knew me, you’d laugh because that’s an understatement.

I call the phenomena “Drop the book.” It’s like my brain decides, “You’re done holding that. Drop the book.” Then the book falls. It’s real.

I have a friend who calls me “Trip,” not because I’m funny.

And I think there are things in life that happen only to me. I mean, it takes a special person to cause a spectacular splatter of gooey chocolate all over her wall and stove.

Once I accidentally flushed $150 down the toilet. You don’t even want to know.

Most of the time I just laugh at myself.

After some manifestation of my clumsiness, my husband always cupped my chin in his hand, grinned, and said, “Oh Lovee, what am I going to do with you?”

“Just love me,” was my coy reply.

A friend told me that it really is a cute elegance. I’ll go with that.

I also break things, but not on purpose.

It always seems to be something with memories attached, though–a coffee mug my husband and I bought on vacation–a hand-painted spoon rest from when we were dating.

On our first anniversary I even broke one of our personalized wedding flutes. You can imagine the tears. We never got around to replacing it either.

To date I haven’t broken a dish in anger, but I’ll admit, when Jon died I often wished a box of cheap dishes would magically appear so I could smash them to the floor.

And had they appeared, I’m almost certain they would have ended up in smithereens.

Even then I had sense enough not to hurl the Fiestaware.

Recently I broke my special spoon rest…again. I don’t remember how I broke it the first time, but I’m sure I was distraught and Jon his usual calm. We carefully fixed it with super glue, and its flaw was barely noticeable.

I think I’ll be able to mend it again, but I this time the scar will show. When memories are all that’s left, a shattered one pierces that much deeper.

So, I’ve been thinking about how God speaks of broken things.

Often being broken is a mark of humility or surrender.

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God you will not despise.” Psalm 51:17

I’ve been broken so many times. The process is painful, but it’s a sweet brokenness that teaches me to understand the fierceness of God’s tenderness. He draws near the broken hearted.

Being broken and restored also reminds me of Kintsukuroi, a Japanese repair method that infuses broken pottery with gold. How ironic that the shards are mended with scars of gold! The result– a piece far more exquisite and costly, not in spite of the scars but because of them.

In other places, broken things represent extravagant love.

“…as he was reclining at table, a woman came with an alabaster flask of ointment of pure nard, very costly, and she broke the flask and poured it over his head.” Mark 14:13

A familiar story, but don’t lose its radiance.Ultimate broken thing

A woman, identified elsewhere as Mary the sister of Lazarus, took a flask of ointment worth almost a year’s wages, broke it (for there were no screw tops in those days), and used all of it to anoint Jesus.

Others around the table were outraged at her ridiculous waste and flagrant behavior.

But her broken thing was an avenue for lavish affection and worship. She knew what was most important.

Finally, sometimes God combines these three: humility, scars, and extravagant love.

They intersect in the ultimate “broken thing,” Jesus.

He humbled himself even to death on the cross. Now alive, He bears the scars as a mark of His extravagant love.

He heals broken things. He mends them with something much more valuable than gold.

I marvel that He loves this clumsy, broken thing.

Father thank you for spiritual brokenness. Thank you for bringing me often to a place of surrender and humility. Keep my heart ever tender before you. Use my brokenness to manifest your extravagant love. I have scars, but you heal them with something more precious than gold, that is, Yourself. 

This post appeared first at A Widow’s Might.

 

So why do I? Write, that is.

~ Ami ~ 2 Comments

compelled to“I have always been fascinated by bloggers, but never considered becoming one. Ever. I’ve written for myself for a long time, but not published for others to see…”

These were the opening lines as I ventured into the land of blogging about a year and a half ago. At the time it was the introduction to my raw thoughts and emotions, merely two weeks removed from my husband’s death. I wrote then because I was compelled to. I needed an outlet, a way to make sense of the tsunami around me.

At first writing was just for me. Then it was to confront stereotypes and show the reality of grief. Now it’s morphing into a desire to equip and encourage. Over the months I remembered just how much I LOVE to write. God stirred a passion that had lain dormant till tragedy forced it to awaken.

Today writing takes another step.

A couple weeks ago, my sweet friend Kit Hinkle from aNew Season asked if I’d like to be part of a blog hop.

“A blog hop? What is such a thing?” said I.

“Well, another blogger will hop to me and then I’ll hop to you and two others. It’s a chance for all of us to write about the same topic.” I was intrigued.

I’ll get on to “hopping,” but first let me tell you about Kit. She’s a lady I value as an “older sister”, one further down the path of widowhood. She is the mother of four teenage sons and also leads the team at aNew Season and A Widow’s Might. She and her team write for thousands of ladies about everything from divorce, to an empty nest, to a new baby, to widowhood. They desire to point to women to Jesus in all of life’s seasons.

The first time Kit and I chatted on the phone we talked for over an hour. I was overwhelmed that such a busy lady would take time to encourage me! It’s been priceless to talk to someone who knows. 

So a blog hop with Kit? Yep. Sign me up. Here goes, writing about writing, a little metacognition if you please.

What am I working on?

At the moment I have some thoughts brewing about the word, “blessed.” I think American Christians often buy into the lie that being blessed means life is going well. The new house. The awesome husband. A great job. But I think Jesus had some different things to say on the topic.  I want to reclaim the word we know it’s so much more than #I’mblessed on Facebook…

How does my work differ from others in its genre?

Well in every post, you”ll see the gospel woven throughout. The gospel is a diamond with many facets. It’s not merely a buzz word. It’s for all of life, and is the power to become like Christ. The gospel reminds me of who I am, lost and found in Him. So, you’ll see the struggle to believe, the pain, or the story, but you will always be pointed back to the main thing– the life, death, burial, resurrection, and reign of Jesus. You’ll see redemption, adoption, reconciliation, propitiation…You’ll see gospel application to the messiness of daily life.

Also, I’m writing from within. When I first started seeking resources for grief and suffering, much of what I found was written several years later in reflection. Well, I thought it was time for the perspective of one who’s in it. Blogging is my journey with grief from 2 weeks to where I am now- a year and a half.

Why do I write what I do?

“I surrender my life to you Lord Jesus. Take it and do whatever you want with it.”

I was 14 and didn’t know much about what it meant to be a Christ-follower, but I did get that I needed a Savior. I didn’t know that He had chosen me before the foundation of the world, but I knew I wanted to follow Him. I knew He loved me. I knew He died for me.

That prayer of surrender has tumbled from my heart many times. In joy and in sorrow, He’s taught me to say. “Take my life. It’s yours.”

He’s asked me to count the cost often, and still my heart says, “Yes, Lord. Make me a disciple.”

So, I guess that’s why I write. This life is not my own.

“I am crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” Galatians 2:20. 

I write out of praise and thanksgiving. I write because I’m compelled to. Any talents I have are gifts from God, to be developed and used for His kingdom, His glory. I write from a place of delight in Jesus, in all He is and all He’s accomplished.

I write what I do because I want to make much of Christ.

How does my writing process work?

Most often writing comes from the daily occurrences that stir my soul.- my husband’s shampoo, playing a board game, or going to the fair. I write to process the struggle. A few weeks ago I felt bombarded with a million lies, so I have a post coming soon about fighting them. I also write to nail down the BIG truths and crossroads moments.

I find that when I write something real to me, the thoughts come quickly, taking shape in about a half hour. Writing to instruct takes much longer, though. I wrote and rewrote a post about applying the gospel in sorrow for several weeks before I felt satisfied with it. I often let close friends preview my writing to help edit and refine ideas. I’m still learning how to be a writer, so I’m sure my writing process will continue to develop!

Mostly, I pray. I pray that the Holy Spirit would lead. I pray that He would encourage the ones who need it. And I pray that Christ be magnified, and that I fade into the background.

So why do I write? Because I’m compelled to. That’s the simple answer. 

Well are you ready for some more FUN? Let me introduce you some ladies who are both stellar writers and sweet friends…

246dcfae6b7565db310ea3829d517ddbTrisha White Priebe– I first met Trisha in college as part of a student work program. I recall her beautiful smile and vibrant joy. She seemed like one of those people who could light up a room. Trisha and her husband published a book called Trust, Hope, Pray: Encouragement for the Task of Waiting. She is also currently co-writing a novel with Jerry B. Jenkins. It also seems like she has a “dark secret.”— She’s addicted to home management. But I think I’m supposed to keep that on the down low. You’ll just have to hop over to househoncho.com to get the rest of the scoop!

blogprofileRachel B. – Rachel and I go way back, but some of my most beautiful memories of Rachel surround her using her talents sacrificially to help my wedding day come off without a hitch. Jon lovingly called her our “Wedding Nazi.” The day wouldn’t have fallen apart without her! Rachel is a wife, a mother of three, with one on the way, and one in heaven. She writes about the every day joys and challenges of motherhood, and just the beauty of life itself. I love the way Rachel crafts words! My heart is always encouraged by her beautiful simplicity. Even just the blog name Une Bonne Vie intrigues me to read more!

bkaser_1404360317_4Becca Kaser– Becca is a new friend to me, but one of my husband’s friends from college. She recently created her blog Daily Joy, but it’s already a refreshing blessing to me!  I love the reminders that daily joy comes from satisfaction in Christ.

In her words…

“Hello my name is Rebecca Kaser and I struggle with anxiety. Phew. It feels good to get that out. But, I’m learning I am not the only one. So, instead of letting my anxiety absolutely destroy my joy, I am going to strive to find joy in my daily journey. I am a new stay-at-home momma just trying to figure this whole new role out.

So, this is a blog for women, and not just women who struggle with anxiety, but for women who want to find joy in the mundane – the diapers, the cooking, the cleaning. How can we fight the battle going on in our minds and find daily peace and joy?”

Thanks for hopping with me friends!

Adoption and the County Fair

~ Ami ~ 7 Comments

fair 2My in-laws love the county fair. It’s one of their FAVORITE family traditions. Did I emphasize favorite?

They don’t just go one day, but every day. They love planning out their fair food- kabobs, corn on the cob, elephant ears, turkey legs, cherry limeade, tacos, donuts…

When I came into the family, I readily embraced this tradition. Bring on the fair food!

I remember my first time at the fair with the Neff clan. It was the Sandwich Fair, in Sandwich Illinois. I was a little disappointed there were no free sandwiches. But I digress.

Jon and I had been dating several months and it came time to bring me home to meet the family. I already loved him, but I quickly fell in love with them too.

I loved experiencing their joy over something so simple as the county fair.

Jon’s sister, Megan, was 14 at the time. Of course we had to ride the Zipper. I found out later that as soon as the ride started, Jon and his mom had a conversation…

“So? What do you think? Do you like her?”

“What’s not to like? She’s lovely.”

Then eyeing him with a look that only moms have, “You better not mess this up.”

How those words make me smile.

I think I got to have five county fairs with Jon and the whole family. Then Mom and Dad Neff moved away. And then Jon died. It was not the same. A place that had been fill only with joy, now met me with tears.

But this we year got to go to the fair again! How we laughed, and reminisced. It was just “right” to be there with them again. My mother-in-law even gave me a quarter to feed the animals. Happy. As we relished our fair food and took in the sights, my thoughts turned to adoption.

Adoption? Well there are some more things you need to know…

Jon understood the beauty of two sets of parents. His first mom was a type one diabetic to whom the doctors said, “If you have children, it will kill you.”

Yet she was a believer in Jesus. When she knew she was pregnant, to end a life was not an option.

She spent months of her pregnancy hospitalized. During that time she kept a journal for her unborn son, Jonathan. I have this journal, and it’s a touching link to a lady I never got to meet. Her love of Christ leapt from the page.

The doctors were right. Having a child debilitated her. When Jon was five, his mom had her first stroke. He quickly learned to dial 911.

Eventually, she died after multiple strokes and after having both legs amputated. Jon was 14.

In Jon’s words, he learned how to love by watching his dad lavish affection on a wife who was an invalid for years. Jon said his dad always adored her. I can’t wait to meet that man someday. and thank him! For I was the beneficiary of those lessons in love. Lavish, extravagant love.

I so wish I had gotten to meet Mom and Dad Atkins, to know the parents my husband cherished so dearly. Some day I will!

But, Jon’s dad also died. At 19, he was alone.

Astonishingly though, God was up to something new and marvelous: giving him another family. Before he died, Jim asked his pastor to watch over his son.

“Would you help him stay out of trouble? Will you see him through college?”

So the Neff family prayed. “Can we take on such a role?

By grace they said yes. They packed up a grieving, rebellious teenager and welcomed him home. My mother-in-law has said, “Even then I knew it would be more. I knew he wasn’t going to walk out of our lives after college.”

So they adopted a son. And Jon got another mom and dad, two brothers, a sister, a dog, and a cat. Another family to cherish. His brother Ben jokes that Jon held the world record for longest sleepover.

“I used to go over to Jon’s house, but the one time I asked him over to mine, he ended up staying for 12 years!”

They went through some crazy rough times together. At times he made them angry. At times he broke their hearts. But a miraculous, beautiful thing was forming. Another son. Part of the family.

They played such a huge, indispensable role in the man he became.

At our wedding, Jon couldn’t help but be choked up about the beauty of adoption. Through example, his second parents taught him the reality of an even greater adoption.

Jesus accomplished the greatest adoption. His death and resurrection brought His own into the family!

As Mom and Dad Neff chose Jon, so God adopts His chosen ones. He makes them part of His family, as sons and heirs. His love is lavish.

Ever since that first county fair, I have understood adoption too. I have a beautiful family, but I also have a second family.

“Ami you’re stuck with us. We’re not going anywhere. Jon may not be here with us anymore, but you are still ours. You are still family.”

Praise God for adoption. Praise God for an even greater adoption!

Adoption, one of the most tender facets of the gospel, causes me to marvel at the love of God.

I am a daughter of the King. I’m a child of the Most High. I’m an heir with the Son. My Father has every resource at His disposal. Because I’m in the family, I am never alone. My Father will only ever do good to me.

Who knew the county fair could produce such magnificent thoughts?

first fair10564483_10152315309713269_1566809494_o

Impostor? Not anymore.

~ Ami ~ 10 Comments

Impostor?

Yes, sometimes I think I have a gigantic sign hanging around my neck labeled “impostor.” I desperately try to cover it up with scarves, sweaters, pretty smiles, you name it. But still I see it there, peeking out threatening to expose the true me.

So, I’ve decided to hang it in plain view for all to see.

Mockingly, it jeers its litany: I struggle to trust God on a daily basis. I often believe I am ineffective for Christ. Why would God want to use someone like me? I have dishes in my sink and clothes on the bedroom floor (at least they’re clean). I don’t live life well without someone to take care of. I am a weak, fragile, sheep who can never get her act together. I’m no longer a normal person with a normal life. I just pretend to be a teacher. I’ve got everyone fooled into thinking I have responded in faith… Impostor.

And so the list goes on. Some of it is true. Some of it is lies.

I’m reminded of a professor in college who always said. “Well you should just go get your white t-shirt, your black sharpie marker, and write on it in big letters. I DON’T READ MY BIBLE.”

He’s right. Although some of those things are true, I no longer lug around my impostor sign. What? You just said you hung it there for all to see!

Well, I did, but Someone took it.

Because here’s the REAL truth. Someone came along with his own sign, and labeled it Beautiful. And all around he wrote the words, redeemed, justified, chosen, adopted, reconciled, new, valuable, precious, beloved…

And so this Someone took his Beautiful sign, removed it from his neck, and put it on me! Then he did the most unbelievable thing. He took my IMPOSTOR sign, hung it on Himself, and displayed it in plain view for all the world to see.

“It is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace.” (Hebrews 13: 9) This is the grace I need to hear. Perhaps you need to hear it too? For surely I am not the only one who tries to take back my sign.

How incomprehensibly lovely it is that I cannot take it back! Someone won’t let me. He tells me constantly, “No, this is who you are now. Beautiful. Because I made you to be so.” (Ephesians 1:3-14, Isaiah 62, Romans 8)

So then my only response left is, “Someone, I adore you.”

Impostor? Not anymore.

Journal Entries: I’ll let them speak for themselves.

~ Ami ~ 11 Comments

IMG_20130717_112154_853I have kept a journal since I was 14, and I’ve learned that I need to use a leather bound book, lest it fall apart before I’ve adequately filled its pages. These journals are nothing spectacular, just a compilation of written prayers to God, notes on sermons I’ve heard, and reflections from my alone time with God. When I look back though, I weep at all God has done in me.

I see the foolish little girl with her extremely specific list- “Characteristics of My Future Husband,” whose consuming desire was to marry immediately upon finishing college.  I can look back on new-believer zeal, yet lacking wisdom and grace. But I also see the faith that knew nothing was impossible for God. I could look upon the college girl, questioning and seeking to develop her own convictions. There are the single years of longing and learning contentment in Christ. I could find the book that marks a fundamental shift in belief, that is, when grace really started to make sense.

There are pages for financial pressures, family crises, and pages pleading on behalf of loved ones. There are pages of struggle, fear, and doubt, and pages full of joy and thanksgiving. And there are many, many pages filled with Jon.

I started a new journal after Jon died. For how could I possibly write about such agony on the last pages of an almost spent journal? Something as big as death required a new volume. This morning, however, as I searched in a brown, leather book for some notes I’d written on Isaiah 40, I was quickly drawn back to 2012 and the beginning of 2013. To the year leading up to Jon’s death. That was not so long ago, of course. It’s not even been nine months since I last got to kiss him and tell him I loved him.

So, let me step back to the time before life was radically altered.  I’m calling this post “Journal Entries.” I’ll try to let them speak for themselves. I’m not exactly sure why I even want to share some glimpses of them with you. But just so you know, I open this window into my private world with a little trepidation.

3-3-12  “Jesus has abolished death for me, and that truth is a consuming fire. You are the God who is guarding me. If I can completely entrust my soul to you, I can entrust the rest of life to you as well. Lord help me not to run from trials or try to short change the work you’re doing in me. Thank you for financial difficulties. Thank you for the possibility of endometriosis. I trust you will provide for the surgery. Thank you that we have not been able to get pregnant. Teach me what you want me to see.”

3-23-12 “God you are sovereign in all things, Lord even in the results of surgery. It is odd because when a doctor says you have a healthy reproductive system it should be cause for praise and rejoicing! But I admit I’m frustrated because it seems like the surgery was a waste and for nothing. I still have pain, and we don’t know why. Lord speak to my heart. Jon prayed right before surgery, “And we will praise you regardless of the results.”  How ludicrous it is that I’m having a hard time praising you for ‘healthy’. I suppose it is that it gives no answer to ‘why no children?’ Help me to praise you God.

O God! My eyes just landed on the verse I wrote down a couple days ago– Your thoughts are precious toward me. You think tender, loving thoughts. You are a good Father who always does right.”

4-11-12 “Lord you are beautiful. You are holy. You always do good. Transform me by your grace. I know you don’t need me, and that I don’t deserved to be used by you. But thank you for letting me ‘play in the sand.’ I want to be where you are. I want to be a part of what you’re doing. ‘Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord; His going out is as sure as the dawn; He will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains water the earth.’ (Hosea 6:3) God you desire ‘steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” (Hosea 6:6) God you want me to be near you. You desire that I delight in you as much as you delight in me!”

6-4-12 “Redemption is not about me God, but about you! ‘Behold your God!’ I want to gaze on you and adore you. You are mighty and powerful. Yet you are also a shepherd. ‘He will tend his flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs in his arms; and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that area with young.’ This incredible description of you in Isaiah 40 is too big to comprehend. ‘The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.’ I rejoice in who you are! Surely, you who have chosen me will also protect me and uphold me. When I think on who you are, there is no room for fear. You uphold me with your righteous right hand, the hand of blessing! You reminded me that you delight to give. Forgive me for slipping back into my faulty perspectives, for thinking you are a ‘begrudging’ Father.

Yesterday you gave an abundant gift to my husband that was not a need or anything important. It was just a beautiful, tangible reminder of your overflowing joy, generosity, and delight to give good to your people! Thank you for the Rockford Air Show tickets! And not just any tickets- VIP chalet tickets, front row seat! This is incredible. God you are marvelous. We hadn’t even prayed for them, yet you delighted to give something that gave Jon immense joy. It was so awesome to see his face light up like a kid…

Thank you for teaching me experientially! You are always good in blessing, joy, and in sorrow. And you will do what brings you the most glory. There is great confidence in knowing I can pour my heart out to you with boldness. I know that all the ‘plans’ I’ve conceived in the past were nothing compared to what you had in store. When things don’t happen the way I think they should, your way is better. Yet you delight in the asking, in the total dependency on you.”

6-8-12 “Lord I am radically dependent on you today. Already this morning I have failed and relied on my own understanding. Thank you for the transforming power of the gospel. Thank you that the blood and righteousness of Christ covers me. It’s amazing that you can look on me as perfect when I still sin every day. Thank you for the freedom to fail because I can rest in Christ’s perfections. God I’m struggling again with intense desire for children. How do I know if it has become an idol? Lord I think it comes back to an accurate perception of you. Everything you do is good. So if it is good for us to conceive, you will not withhold it. If it is good for us to NOT conceive, you will not withhold it. Lord, above all I desire for you to be magnified! The desire to feel life inside me and to be a mom is a good thing. It’s a desire put there by you! But that desire must not be my chief end or consuming passion. I know honestly, though, that sometimes it is. I need the power of Christ to want YOU the most! Thank you God for not withholding yourself from me. The request to know you more deeply is always answered affirmatively. Lord you have abundantly blessed me far more than I can ask or think. I praise you!”

8-1-12 “I’m sorry for my stubbornness. I have so much more selfishness than I own up to. Lord my husband works so hard, and I so often take him for granted. I remind myself of all that I adore, his tender heart before you, his consuming passion for the gospel, his quick forgiveness, how he makes me laugh, how he leads me. You have blessed me with an incredible gift in Jon. Thank you that marriage is based on promises not performance.”

10-3-12 “Father I admit that I have been deeply struggling the last couple days. I thought with great hope that this would be the month for children. Lord when it was not, it knocked me down much harder than I anticipated. Lord I couldn’t understand why it seemed you were answering every prayer except the one most near and dear to my heart. I know my emotions led me to a deep pit, and I wasn’t sure how to get out. Forgive me for falling into the trap so often labeled “If I respond right this month, God will bless.” I know I can’t earn favor, and that I don’t need to. Lord I settle my soul on the Rock of the Gospel. I am chosen, reconciled, cleansed, forgiven, adopted, and purchased. This is who I am in Christ.”

10-20-12 “Thank you that I am already beloved. It is not about me doing anything to gain more love. Because of Christ and the cross, I am free from a performance driven life.”

12-20-12 “Do I still know that you have dealt bountifully with me if another month the answer is no? God I want to. I want to exalt you and praise you. I know you always deal bountifully with me. You gave your Son. But do I believe you are more than enough, that you satisfy? Will you be enough if my arms remain empty? My head knows truth, but my heart asks questions. Lord I don’t claim to understand our continued childlessness. You are beyond my understanding, but you are faithful. You are my inheritance. The joys of this world are temporal, fleeting, but you are eternal. My soul praises you even in my questions. I willingly turn them into worship. The place of highest joy is with you. This I know.”

12-27-12 “The gospel reminds me that what I legitimately deserve is a cup full of God’s wrath. This would be mine to drink if I was given what I deserve each day. So to be handed even a completely empty cup, is cause for gratitude! The tiniest drop of blessing should blow me away by the unbelievable kindness of God. My cup overflows. Because I deserve every ounce of God’s wrath, therefore any drop of blessing makes my cup full and overflowing. Rather, the reality is that Christ has already given me every spiritual blessing.”

12-31-12 “Father you have brought us so far this year… to a new church where we are so blessed by the gospel emphasis, by a pastor who loves and cares for us, by new and deep friendships, by abundant ministry opportunities. God you have not only given Jon a new job, but a much better job. And you have brought us to a new city! 2012 stands out as a year of blessing… Lord you don’t need us, but I pray you would use us. Father expand the work you want to accomplish in us and through us…”

1-1-13 “God here we are on the brink of a new year. But you already know what this year will bring! I praise you for the “good” and the “bad,” the trials and the blessings because truly everything is good with you. ‘Teach me your way O Lord’  My prayer is to grow in passion and intimacy with you.”

2-9-13 “Lord how do I even begin to put into words where my heart is? How do I write about the death of my love? How do I describe the depth of emotion? How do I write that I am living my worst fear? I didn’t know I would kiss his face, his hands, his hair and weep in indescribable pain. I don’t understand, but I know this: you are good. And you are doing good…Though my flesh doesn’t want your will, I still know you are faithful. You are still abundant grace and mercy. You are still peace. You are still my God. Jesus I cling to you.”

I see no need for extended commentary. I’ve already tried to cram an entire year into 3 pages! But I’ll say this. It is God’s grace that Jon and I remained childless. I’m well aware that had we conceived before Jon died, I would soon be having a child. Though I longed for a little person who looked like Jon, a piece of him, it was God’s grace that said no.

I can see God using tragedy to utterly transform me, and i can see how He is answering countless prayers through these unfulfilled dreams. “Lord be exalted. Be magnified. Let your gospel shine through Jon and through me.” He’s not answering the way I thought, but  He’s answering nonetheless. He’s replaced my fear with peace. Of course, I still struggle. but He’s transformed my thinking. God delights in me. Nothing changes that. I’m astonished at the zeal of God’s transforming grace. It’s uncomfortable grace, but surely my cup overflows.

Some days I just feel crazy.

~ Ami ~ 4 Comments

I haven’t had one of those “I am legitimately losing my mind” kind of days in a while. But today it’s here in full-force. I woke up just sad. I hate days I wake up sad. Because then the whole day feels like a struggle for joy. I suppose it is grace that I’m not waking up sad every day anymore. But when they come, they hit hard. I really did just want to stay in bed all day. And I can’t seem to stop crying. It’s days like today where I feel like I can relate a little to Charlie in The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It’s the feeling of everything swirling around, the feeling of being trapped inside your own head and not being able to get out.

There was constant confusion the first few months. And now it’s seldom. But it still throws me every time an “I’m going crazy” day hits. So I guess it’s more than just a sad day.

I’ve been trying to quantify the struggle. Because that’s what I do. I analyze. And I ask God to help me boil it down to the truths He wants me to see. I hardly ever do this, but I’m typing before I’ve fully processed. Usually I write things in a journal first, and then later they get transferred to the blog.

But I don’t know. Today it just seems like I need the act of typing and the clacking of keys to make me feel like I’m accomplishing something.

These deep days are never about one thing. Usually it’s a combination of things that have been building for a while. I’m struggling with being alone. I’m struggling with my new life. I’m struggling with feeling of value to anyone. Then there are some aspects of struggle I just can’t write here. And another thing, I’ve been getting to spend lots of time with people recently. But why do I still feel so lonely? And why is it so hard to preach the gospel to myself today? And all of this makes me feel a little crazy.

There’s been a lot about introversion on Facebook lately, and maybe it’s a bad thing for me. Because now I’m analyzing all these character traits! Which in turn makes me realize I have more introversion in me than I thought. And I think it makes me nervous. It makes me wonder if a result of grief is a fundamental shift in personality. Or if I’ve just never realized there was a label for the desire to have solitude! I think under normal circumstances, I’m somewhere in the middle. It’s like a mean game though… 23 Signs You’re Secretly an Introvert. I’m convinced it was written by someone out there bent on making me even more tied up in my own head. Why the hype all of a sudden? I’ve been content to know that I was introspective, but I think I’ve headed down this nasty spiral today: “Have I always had introverted tendencies? If so, why does this label “introvert” bother me so much? Or are these tendencies just heightened as a result of loss? And if I do have them, I must not be totally introverted because I think I’m going nuts from so much time by myself!” I don’t know the answers. And I know I may not be making much sense.

For example, take crowds. I don’t remember if I used to feel alone in a crowd before losing Jon. I don’t remember it ever being a problem.

I don’t remember if I would have wanted to sit in the corner and observe rather than participate. But I do know that when I had Jon, I could be in a large crowd and be totally ok. Even if I was not by his side, I knew he was there. Like a safe haven. The place where I knew it was ok to be totally me, not wondering how I was perceived.

But now I sometimes feel like I’m going to hyperventilate. Is this introversion or is this just grief? And does it really matter which one it is? Probably not.

Another thing I’ve been thinking about is that Jon was really good at getting me to not take life so seriously. He drew the silliness out in me. And I think it makes me sad that I’m not that way anymore. And it makes me miss his goofiness that much more.

I miss that every trip to a grocery store or Walmart was an adventure. I miss him riding down a hill on the shopping cart shouting “I’m the king of the world.”  I miss him dancing in the middle of the aisle every time that stupid Bieber song, “Baby Baby” came on…every time, without fail. I miss him 80s power walking like Richard Simmons so he could be the first one to spot people in their pajamas. I always won that game though, despite his best efforts.

I miss how we would play silly games and people would look at us funny (or sweetly). One day, we were waiting in the self-checkout line and every time I said an adjective Jon exuberantly acted it out– silly, happy…. So then I just started trying to get him to act out ridiculous ones… charming, dashing, terrified, pensive, manly, heroic, shy… I just laughed and laughed. It was our own little game of reverse charades. We noticed the clerk looking at us as if we were nuts. But I just smiled at her and thought, “Let her think we’re nuts. This is what happiness looks like.” He made me not care.

My sister-in-law once said- “Does he do these things all the time?”  And my playful answer was, “Yes. And I just go with it. Life is definitely never boring.”

So all this talk about introversion just makes me wonder if I’ll ever have those times of silliness again.

Maybe this is my skewed, biased view, but Jon had this rare quality about him. I can’t think of one word to describe it, but it seemed like a sense of utter delight with life. Excitement, joy, passion, charisma… He told me once that it was his personal mission to get people with monotonous jobs to smile. You know, checkout clerks, subway attendants, toll collectors…  “Somebody’s got to make their day better.”

I think other aspects of my struggle today comes down to an identity crisis. For one thing, I didn’t realize that no longer teaching Kindergarten would bother me. Even though it was my own choice to not go back. But now everyone’s headed back to school and it does. Perhaps teaching has become an idol. “I am a teacher.” It gave me a definitive identity when God took the rest– wife, encourager, cheerleader, lover, wannabe mother, wannabe pastor’s wife. But even this last week, God reminded me that He wants teacher too. “God can’t I keep just this one? I’m a good teacher. Can’t I keep that? You’ve taken everything else.”  But again God said, “whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” He wants even my identity as teacher. He wants my identity to be in Christ. So if He wants these education skills to go dormant, that’s ok. It’s His life. This is the cost of true discipleship. But today the cost weighs heavy.

On the other hand, I’m so thankful for what I get to do now. I’m thankful that I get the privilege of being totally devoted to ministry. And I know I’m following God’s plan. I love getting to talk with people, encourage, and counsel. I love that He is perhaps developing other gifts.

Most days I have such great joy in that. Just not today. Today I feel like shouting and throwing things. Or maybe just doing nothing but lying on the couch. Today I’m wrestling with questions like, “Have I reached that place where I’m expected to be ok? After all, it has been almost 7 months.” and “Is it still ok for me to tell people that I’m struggling? Is it still ok for me to feel crazy?”

As I alluded to earlier, I’ve really enjoyed getting to invest so much time in people. But I feel so drained. Yet I don’t want to be alone. It’s this weird paradox.

Epilogue

So I left my ramblings mid thought, and got to spend the evening with some lovely friends. And it was a good thing too. For I was headed down deep, and I knew it. I’m thankful God gave me grace to know I had to reach out. I can’t expect people to be mind readers. “Do y’all have plans tonight?” This was His love for me when I just couldn’t get enough truth in my heart to stop crying and to distill the crazy thoughts.  And this is why I can’t understand how it’s possible to handle grief without Christ. For I would have drifted more into isolation, and who knows what else today.

I loved just being with them, and seeing the silliness in their own interactions together. I loved seeing their affection for one another. I loved hearing them pray for one another and for me. It was good. And it was really good to share my “pit of introspection” with another human and not just my computer. It was not through words, but my friends reminded me why Christ made believers a body. We need each other. I’m thinking of Galatians 6 that says “Bear one another’s burdens.” That verse is referring to a crushing load that’s too heavy for one person. Sometimes the best way to preach the gospel is just to do life together. Today I needed someone to bear my crushing load with me. We had some spiritual conversation tonight, but more than that I got to see the corporate quality of the gospel played out. This is the church. Jesus purchased for Himself a people; peculiar, holy, blameless. This is the kingdom of God. To be a burden bearer is to imitate Jesus, who went so far as to bear the full burden of sin.

I thought about going back and editing what I wrote earlier today. But then I thought better of it. I can be honest here. I have to be. Or I will help perpetuate the myth that Christians are shiny people with all their stuff together. Because it really is ok for me still to struggle even if Christian culture sometimes, sadly portrays otherwise.

When a sheep is broken, the shepherd doesn’t just say, “Just get up and walk sheep.” Rather, He carries it. I’m thankful to be in a local church that carries broken sheep. Even this one.

And I still say

“I come, God, I come
I return to the Lord
The one who’s broken
The one who’s torn me apart
You struck down to bind me up
You say You do it all in love
That I might know You in Your suffering

Though You slay me
Yet I will praise You
Though You take from me
I will bless Your name
Though You ruin me
Still I will worship
Sing a song to the one who’s all I need

My heart and flesh may fail
The earth below give way
But with my eyes, with my eyes I’ll see the Lord
Lifted high on that day
Behold, the Lamb that was slain
And I’ll know every tear was worth it all

Though You slay me
Yet I will praise You
Though You take from me
I will bless Your name
Though You ruin me
Still I will worship
Sing a song to the one who’s all I need

You’re enough for me.”

Though You Slay Me (Shane & Shane, With John Piper)

Jesus’ Stunning Grief

~ Ami ~ 1 Comment

So yesterday I recounted the story of Lazarus and of how Jesus grieved. Go back and read that one if you haven’t already. It’s called “a shocking story, but with fresh eyes”  Today follows closely on its heels and ties it all together.

And I said I would explain how Jesus’ grief relates to the “next” for me. And so I will.

Several months ago, I had the thought, “I wonder what it was like for Jon to see Jesus’ face. How beyond my comprehension that must have been!” But then that thought was followed by a selfish one, “But what about me?”  I have no biblical proof for this, but in my imagination I see Jesus coming to get Jon, rather than Jon just waking in the presence of Christ. Does that make sense? Must be too much influence of that silly show Touched by an Angel as a kid. So my thought spiraled down this way… “But what about me? Did he look back? Did he ask Jesus if I was going to be ok? Or was there no more thought of me?” And of course, if all thoughts of me were utterly erased at the sight of His Savior, then that would be perfectly right. For it’s true, I think that “the things of earth grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”  But my internal battle continued…”And God, if you were there with exuberant delight welcoming Jon home, how were you also there weeping with me?”

Of course I knew the answer to that question. I know God is omnipresent. And I know that all believers are indwelled by the Holy Spirit. But all previous assent to these truths seemed irrelevant. So I battled for days, “God did you leave me all alone? How could you have been there? Did you weep with me?”

Here’s where Lazarus’ story comes in, and how the truths from it have become stunning to me. In the midst of my deep struggle with basic truths such as God’s sovereignty, His omnipresence, His compassion, HIs love for me, His promises to never leave me, God brought my friend Elizabeth.

She shared her own story of the death of her fiance just months before her wedding, how God carried her through the depths, and how He eventually brought her husband Rob across her path. She could share with me what loving two men looks like, and how God equipped Rob to “handle a woman with grief.” She could tell me what grief looks like several years down the road. She answered my questions before I ever asked them. We sat at my house talking for hours crying and laughing together. And it was Elizabeth who reminded me of Lazarus in John 11.

So I went back and started studying it with fresh eyes. I began to see the radiance of this story for the first time. God’s truth resounded emphatically when I saw Jesus weeping with His friends, angry at sin and death, and in awe of the power that was about to course through Him–all in one moment! And I realized finally, “Yes, Lord you were there delightedly receiving Jon, and you were there broken by grief, weeping with me.” I think I have in the past taken the totally personal nature of God for granted. Yes, there have been other times when I’ve been acutely aware of God’s presence, but in general it’s easy to forget just how invested in me He is. Another truth so shocking was that He was also there with every other believer for whatever they were facing at the exact moment! All the beauty of the promise, “I will never leave you or forsake you” rushed upon me. And the truth of God’s intimate presence was startlingly real. Perhaps I’m learning these basis truths experientially. You may be thinking, big deal. Of course these things are true.  But I encourage you to view them as magnificently as they really are… not just as Sunday school lessons you’ve heard all your life.

The God who created everything knows me and loves me. He is more intimately aware and concerned with my life than I am.

Since then, God keeps using this passage to teach me. He reminded me that love doesn’t always look the way I think it should, but in His love He sometimes does things I don’t understand. As with Lazarus, He’s doing more than I think. Also, though God didn’t raise Jon after four days, he will be bodily raised one day! And I’ll get to see him. And laugh with him. And hug him. And most importantly, worship God for all eternity, alive together!  But even before that, when Jon died he was absent from flesh and present with Christ. For the death of a believer is really him stepping into new life. As Jesus said of Lazarus, “His illness doesn’t lead to death.”  So, for Jon his illness also led through death! In the immediate days of sorrow, it was NOT comforting hear folks say, “But we can rejoice, for Jon is with heaven with Christ!” I didn’t care. I wanted him back. Thoughts of eternity didn’t help assuage the grief. But I think now I’m starting to see the beauty of the words, “O death where is your sting? O grave where is your victory?” For those chosen by God, saved by grace alone, through faith in Christ alone, death is death only for those left behind!

Likewise, the depth of Jesus’ grief has thoroughly comforted me. How marvelous is Hebrews 2:17 ‘Therefore, He had to be made like His brothers in every respect, so that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because He Himself has suffered when tempted, He is able to help those who are being tempted.”  He had to be made like his brothers in every respect. Therefore, he also had to know grief like his brothers. Jesus fully satisfied God’s wrath for me, and He did it as one who knew all the weaknesses of human flesh, yet without sin.

And we don’t just see Jesus’ grief for Lazarus, but also his much more profound grief in Gethsemane. I was reading Knowing God by J.I. Packer and came across these words about the garden. I certainly don’t think I can improve upon them so I’ll just give you the quote.

In discussing how you would see Jesus presented in the gospel of Mark, Packer says, “Your final impression will be of One for whom this experience of death was the most fearful ordeal. In Gethsemane, ‘horror and dismay came over him, and he said…’My heart is ready to break with grief’ (Mark 14:34 NEB). The earnestness of his prayer (for which ‘he threw himself on the ground,’ rather than kneel or stand) was an index of the inward revulsion and desolation that he felt as he contemplated what was to come. How strong was his temptation to say ‘amen’ after ‘take away this cup from me,’ rather than go on to ‘nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt’ (Mark 14:36 KJV), we shall never know. Then, on the cross, Jesus bore witness to inward darkness matching outward darkness with his cry of dereliction, ‘My God, my God why hast thou forsaken me?”

My first thought after reading this paragraph was that Jesus even grieved perfectly. Though there was tremendous grace in the ER to say- “God you’re good. He’s yours,” how many times since then have I doubted or railed against God? I have not always grieved well. And I have not always said, “not my will but yours.”  But O how beautiful it is that Jesus already grieved perfectly! And His death and resurrection are sufficient for my failure to grieve perfectly. He’s sufficient to remind me of Himself when I doubt.

I wonder how much greater was Jesus’ grief because He had never been separated from HIs Father. Never was there a fractured relationship due to sin. Never was there less than a perfect union. I can’t say that I’ve ever sweat blood.

I’m humbled by these instances of Jesus’ grief. But this is the humanity of the One who is also God. Words to an old hymn just sprang to mind as I type, “No one ever cared for me like Jesus… O how much He cares for me.”

So how does Jesus’ grief relate to pressing in to God’s “next”? Well, Jesus’ own grief was temporary. And so shall mine be. It will not last for eternity. For after the cross and death Jesus was raised, exalted and seated at the right hand of the Father. And now I’m called an heir with Christ, one day to be glorified with Him. One day to never see sin and death again. For as Paul said “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed in us.” (Romans 8)

It is because He grieved that I can have a “next.” It is because He said “not my will by yours,” then suffered unto death that I know life, and freedom, and joy and peace. So I return to the passage I began with yesterday–  “If God be for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all, how will he not also with Him graciously give us all things?”  God is for me. There is such power in those simple words. Moreover, these verses have “to do with knowing and enjoying God, and not with anything else. The meaning of ‘he will give us all things; can be put thus: one day we shall see that nothing–literally nothing– which could have increased our eternal happiness has been denied us, and that nothing–literally nothing– that could have reduced that happiness has been left with us. What higher assurance do we have than that?” (Packer)

How then could there not be “next”? Not just in eternity, but in this life also. This is hope. This is confident expectation.