Wednesday, March 2, 2016

My Story For His Glory: Why I Share My Life...Here



I walk back and forth in the parking lot. The concrete and tacky blue adornment of hospital behind me. Cars whizz by on Tetenyi ut as more cement and gray rises into the sky. 

It's the cloudy days of February in Budapest.

I have weathered the eye of the storm. And, I am alive. 

But the aftermath remains. There will be the sudden leaving. Family will make emergency trips to rescue and prepare us for home.

There will be tearful goodbyes laced with an appalling lack of closure. There will be the torment of what might have re-charted this course of no return.

Yet, what I remember most is the palpable, living nature of hope.

My beloved comes to me in the evenings. He comes many times. I know him as a blurry presence. His head bowed as in prayer. When I see his face, there is a smile, but there is pain, too.

My beloved comes to me in the evenings. After being father and mother to our children during the two weeks I am in the hospital and days more before. He comes sometimes with dinner from friends, sometimes with gyros from our favorite neighborhood place.

My beloved comes to me in the evenings. He comes with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. He reads the words of comfort and strength found uniquely in the one source of grace and truth and love and hope...

He reads and sometimes I sleep. It's the dreamless and sweet kind. When have I last tasted of this dear fruit? It is only a moment; a tiny drop of time. But this rest becomes the substance of eternity.

I awake and know the heartbeat of hope. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Pure and golden. Soul-expanding. Sure. Like the crystal waters of Aslan's country. Still, every very step before me is unsure, the darkness and the fog. 

Yet, the hope, oh the hope.

If you scroll through the past few posts, coming erratically since last May, you will find pieces of a complex and dark part of my story. The crisis and trauma is now a year ago, happening over a few intense weeks of my life. Yet, because all of our lives are made up of intricately orchestrated events, moments, choices and one distinctly divine plan, there is much more to the story.

We are not defined by our tragedies. Yet their fallout and how fully and truly we deal with the pain, disappointment and grief does much to shape our stories.

It's the parody of Eden. There is a wretched curse and devastating fall that affects us all. But, there is too the fingerprint of perfection; God's image within. Deeper still is the God who made us and who promises to make us new. It's the hope we are meant to know. And as we live it, like our souls long to do, we prove He is true.

I write out my story on a blog for all the world to read. While, at times, I have wondered at my motives, I can truly say it's not because I need you or anyone to know that story. 

But, I do have a desire to know my story. Every last bit. I want to be able to peer into each and every of its moments without fear. 

I want to have the courage to face dark things that lurk like evil giants. I want to stand before them with the knowledge that who I am in Christ my Savior obliterates their presence. They have no eternal or even enduring temporal place in my life.


When I write and own my story, all that holds me back from the full embrace of God's love vanishes like smoke.  
I am saying, 'Here is my mess and it's there and there too and look it just got uglier.'  
But, I am also saying, 'Wow! Look, at how perfectly good, loving and redemptive God is.'
A year ago, it was too much to write even the bits I have shared in these few posts. It was with fear and trembling and not a little courage that I began. 

I share them in the hope that it will resonate with those places in your story. 


Because don't we all want to know that our struggle, the tenor of darkness, is not ours alone to battle? And more, don't we want to know that there is something or rather, Someone, greater?

Each of our stories is a unique and precious gem, faceted with all the shining and shadowed colors of a vast array. Yet, there is one bright resolution that brings us all together. For each one found in God, through the love and gift of His Son, there is Heaven. It's the greatest prize of God forever. In His arms and Home.

This is why we can know our stories. We can hunt and dig. We can pull out the weeds. We can cut out the diseased. We can shake our fists at Evil. We can make thundering stomps on the ground, calling for God to break the bonds of wickedness. We can dance. Oh, how we can dance! We can sing and spin and raise our faces towards the Son of Love. 

We can live. Oh, how we can live!

Sharing with Jennifer and SDG Sisterhood


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