This I Pray For You

Maybe it’s the season or maybe it’s just life but I have a lot of friends going through really hard stuff right now. Infertility, parenting stubborn kids, long-term Christians who’ve walked away from God, suicide, chronic pain, marriage breakdowns, stillbirth and miscarriage, problems at work… The list seems to go on and on.

My heart breaks every time I hear of another one - even of people I don't directly know. I sit there, phone in my hand, wondering what on earth I can say to encourage my friend. There are the good Christian platitudes, of course – God’s got a plan in this, all things work together for good, you’ll get through this – but, much as I believe them, they’re not helpful. No words I can think of are. 

The silence between us stretches so long that the person on the other end of the line probably thinks I’m ignoring them or just don't care. Nothing could be further from the truth. My heart aches with the pain of what I've just heard. The “I’m so sorry, I’ll be praying,” I eventually reply with might seem like just another platitude but I promise it’s not. I take my broken heart off for a walk and I pray. Sometimes the words come straight away but more often I just sit there with God, hurting and knowing he understands. He’s hurting too. He’s fine with my ‘why God?’s and more than okay with my silences. And when the words do start to come, he loves that too.

For all my friends struggling right now, for friends of friends dealing with far more than they can handle, I might seem far away or like I don't care but please know that I do. More than you'll ever know. And I am praying. Every day I am praying. For you.

I pray God will give you peace. Amidst the craziness and the pain, the grief and the shock, I pray you’ll find moments of peace.

I pray God will put people around you – just the right amount – who’ll say the right thing, or just be there and not say anything at all. And that he’ll bar the door from those with the best of intentions who just make it all worse.

I pray he’ll give you the strength to get through minute by minute, hour by hour and the wisdom to know how to do that.

I pray he’ll give you the courage to allow yourself time to heal. And time to grieve. That you know you don’t have to put on a happy face just to make us all think you’re okay. That it’s okay not to be okay. But it's also okay to smile. That you'll feel free of judgement and safe to be whatever you need to be.

I pray that you’ll know that it’s fine to question God and even to yell at him. He’s big enough to handle it. But that you’ll also know he loves you, no matter what, and that you’ll let him do that. That you’ll let him in.

I pray that he’ll give you moments of joy. I know, that seems crazy when all you feel right now is pain or like your whole world has fallen apart, but I pray he’ll give you joy. Memories of good times, friends to laugh with, a rainbow or a ray of sun breaking through the dark clouds when you least expect it.

I pray you’ll find hope. That though your world seems unbelievably dark right now, I pray that you’ll know that there is hope.

Most of all, I pray you’ll know you’re not alone. God is there with you in your pain and questioning but so are others. More people than you know. There are those who’ll be right beside you, day by day, but there will also be those like me who don’t know what to say or are too far away to help but are praying. We’re on your side too.

I might not know the words to say to you, but please know, I am praying. Every day, I am praying.

You are not alone.

Friday was Never the End

Growing up, I thought the musical Jesus Christ Superstar was anti-Christian. Of course, that opinion was purely based on the reviews of others and the two songs I knew from it since I'd never actually seen it.

Last year, I borrowed it from the library, thinking it was probably worth making the decision for myself.

Maybe it was the version, maybe the passion of the actors cast, maybe the musical itself, but I was absolutely blown away by it. I cried, I raged, my heart was broken, I was challenged, and - scandalous though it may sound - I felt as if I truly understood the significance of Easter for the first time.

I think I waited a whole day, if that, before buying a copy for myself. Jesus Christ Superstar: The Arena Spectacular. For those who haven't seen it, it's a musical portraying Passion week, told primarily through the eyes of Judas, Jesus and Mary Magdalene.

I watched it again last night and was once again ripped apart by the same emotions.

Three things in particular really stood out.

The people never understood.

Jesus spent three years absolutely pouring himself out into these people and they still didn’t get it. They missed the point of Jesus’ words, life and sacrifice altogether.

There’s a line Jesus sings in the musical when he’s begging God to take away the pain that’s to come. “I’m not as sure as when we started. Then I was inspired, now I’m sad and tired.”

Jesus was exhausted. I kind of wonder if he could have kept going as he had for longer than the three years of his ministry. The long days, heart-breaking time spent with people, calming storms, dealing with pain and suffering and mule-headed disciples. ‘Sad and tired’ seem like an understatement. Did he feel like a failure? Or did the knowledge of the future beyond the cross fuel him when the reality of what was wrecked him?

Have you ever given everything of yourself and had people not only not notice but completely miss the point? It’s usually around about then that we give up on them. They don’t appreciate it. They don’t get it. I’m wasting my time, we think. I wonder if Jesus ever thought that about the disciples and the crowds around him. He gave them everything he had and still they looked at him blankly. No one would have held it against him if he’d just walked away.

But he didn’t.

Jesus didn’t give up. He gave everything anyway. Before we appreciated, understood or even wanted his sacrifice, he gave it. For us.

Jesus would have forgiven Judas.

Jesus forgave Peter. He forgave the guards and Pilate and the people who condemned him. He would have forgiven Judas. He probably already had. Jesus didn’t give up on Judas, Judas gave up on himself. He gave up before giving himself the chance to accept God’s grace. He died never knowing the end of the story.

Which brings me to the third thing that stood out more than any of the others…

This wasn’t the end of the story.

The musical finishes with the cross, not the resurrection. The first time I watched it, that was my one issue with it. I wanted more. I wanted to scream at all the people watching that that wasn't the end! There was more to the story! Jesus came back to life!!

But, watching it Maundy Thursday, that unfinished-ness took on a whole new significance. That's what it must have felt like for the disciples and Mary and everyone on the Friday. They walked away from the cross utterly devastated. They thought that was it. Jesus was dead. They didn't know there was more to the story. They didn't know that, just around the corner, was Sunday. The best bit was still coming. Jesus' death wasn't the end.

It was only the beginning.

And it's only the beginning for us too. 

Still My Story, Still My Song

It’s been one of those days, after one of those weeks, after one of those months. The kind you literally only get through by the grace and strength of God.

One daughter grumpy, the other not listening to a word I said. My arm burning from carrying my overtired eight-month-old son around for the past two and a half hours since he screamed almost to the point of choking every time I put him down.

Trying to get dinner cooked (one-handed), the table set, the house back to tidy enough that we weren’t tripping over everything. My ankle was throbbing because some mosquito had had the audacity to bite me on it – three times. And it was raining. Not that nice, cool, ‘go find a good book and snuggle up’ rain but rather the ‘just enough to make the air so thick with humidity that we all drown in it’ rain.

As I often do in such situations, I turned on some music to distract myself from the feeling that my world and I were completely falling apart. I chose an album of hymns because, to be honest, much as I love them, I was in desperate need of the godly truths they contained.

I let out a wry laugh when it got to the chorus of Blessed Assurance.

This is my story, this is my song.

Praising my Saviour all the day long.

I couldn’t help but think of the last blog post I’d written with that title, all about my grand testimony of God’s love in my life. Ah, those were the days, I thought to myself wryly as I stood there aching, frustrated and sweaty with a wriggly overtired baby on my hip. Out there, telling the world about God, encouraging teens, impacting lives.

But just as quickly, another thought challenged that one – that this, right here, was as much my story as that one. And just as powerful.

I was an aching mess. But I was an aching mess praising God. Temperamental kids, one-handed dinner prep, messy house, my tired body fighting depression to stay afloat – this is my current story.

And it’s a story of God’s faithfulness.

I couldn’t get through these days without God, and I’ll tell that to anyone and everyone who’ll listen. I’m under no illusions that I can do life without him. He is my rock, my reason, my joy and my hope.

Messy as my days feel at times, God is using my story – even in the mess – to show others his heart. He is using my testimony to encourage others in ways I’ll probably never know.

Don’t be afraid of mess. And don’t for one second think that God can’t use it or that God can’t use you. No matter what your story looks like today, God can and will use it to bring him glory.

Mess is my story but this is my song:

Praising my Saviour all the day long.

So ... what's your story? :)

Who Are You Leading?

I’ve been incredibly privileged to have some great opportunities thrown my way over the years. One of them would easily be the chance my sisters and I were given to lead a kids’ program during family camps at the holiday centre we stayed at every Christmas. Aka Mapleton Kids’ Program.

For an hour and a half every morning, while their parents were otherwise occupied, we’d play games, do activities, run challenges and generally have a whole stack of fun with twenty or so school-aged kids.

It’s probably an acquired taste – no doubt there are many people who couldn’t think of anything worse than spending their holidays corralling a bunch of overactive kids who weren’t even related to them – but for me, it was pretty much a dream come true. I loved it.

I’ve also never felt the responsibility of leadership as strongly as when we were playing a particular game there one day.

We’d just finished a story and, to check if the kids had been listening or not, were playing a True and False game. Basically, the leader up the front said something about the story and, if it was true, the kids would run to one side of the room and, if it was false, to the other. Get it wrong, or take too long, and you were out until one child remained. Simple.

We only needed one person to ask the questions so the rest of us leaders joined in the game, mostly to help out the littlest kids but also, toward the end, to purposely choose the wrong side and ensure the kids were really listening.

The first question that day was so easy it was impossible to get wrong. Think something along the lines of ‘it’s daytime, true or false?’, when it was 9 in the morning and we’d all just come from breakfast. Not even the youngest kids needed our help on that one, so another leader and I (who were ‘playing’ the game) picked False.

Only we weren’t the only ones. Our littlest sister, who was probably five or six years old at the time – was standing beside us. Needless to say, I was shocked and slightly confused, especially since I knew she knew the right answer.

I’ll never forget what she said when I asked her why she’d chosen the wrong one. 

“I knew it was wrong, but you were both here and I trust you so I came.”

Oh. Talk about a hit to the heart.

It was just a silly game we were playing that day, but through it God taught me something I’ll never forget again. People are watching and, whether I’m purposely leading or not, they’re following and copying the choices I make.  

I knew the choice I made during that game was the wrong one. She knew it too. But she followed me all the same, because she trusted me to do the right thing.

No matter who you are, you have influence – whether it’s with your own kids, someone else’s kids, friends at school, younger siblings, workmates, or those you specifically lead. They are watching you and the decisions you make, even when you’re not aware. And they’re copying what you do.

So, who are you leading and what are you teaching them?

The Most Beautiful Sunrises Come Through the Clouds

I’ve always loved watching the sun rise. Apart from the obvious beauty of it, there’s something so hope-filling about the way that brilliant orb of light breaks through the darkness. It’s as if my spirit catches its breath for a second and all I can do is worship in awe of the God who brings new beginnings day after day.

I’ve seen a lot of sunrises lately. Having a newborn will do that to a person. Whether or not I like it – and believe me, some days I’d really, really prefer to be in bed asleep – I’m often awake in time to see the sunrise. I rub my bleary eyes, pick up my wide-awake son from his cot and we head outside to see the sunrise.

Every one of them is beautiful. Every one of them fills me with hope. But it’s the ones where the sky is full of clouds which are the most stunning.

When the sky is clear, the sun peeps its face above the horizon to the already blue sky and there it is. Brilliant. Bright.

But when there are clouds…

Darkness turns to light as gold-gilt rainbows span the sky. Monotone clouds are painted lush pinks and oranges, then gold as the sun catches their edges. The sun continues to rise, still unseen, and a section of clouds glows so bright that I can barely even look at them.

And then, just when I’m wondering if there are too many clouds for the sun to break through this time, it finds a tiny gap and the whole sky is filled with streaks of golden light.

Every sunrise is beautiful, but there’s something about the presence of clouds that make certain ones truly magnificent.

My life feels pretty full of clouds at the moment. I’m tired. I feel like I’ve been under the weather more often than not in the past couple of years. Some days it’s a struggle just to get out of bed, let alone ‘shine my light’ or do all the other things Christians are supposed to do.

And yet, God is still there, bringing hope through the darkness. Reflecting and refracting his light and making something truly beautiful of my grey clouds. And I, over and over, find myself catching my breath as I stand in wonder of the God who can break through even the darkest clouds.

Life is tough. I know. I’m far from the only person struggling right now. But if you’re with me, here in the struggle, know that God hasn’t left you to face the darkness alone. He’s there, every single minute, every single day, making something beautiful of your clouds. And, just at that moment when you’re wondering if the clouds are too dark to let anything through, he’ll break through with a beam of sunlight and remind you, without a doubt, that he is still God. The light will always win.

It’s the darkest skies which make the most beautiful sunrises.

Couldn't help but share this one too. Pretty stunned by this gorgeous sunset the other day while watching my daughter play cricket!