Long enough.
I've chosen a word for the year for the past several years. Many times, I felt that word was chosen for me.
Last year I really struggled with my word. It was crystal clear...I just wasn't very open. I remember finally agreeing to the word, with a commitment to keep it to myself. Out of nowhere I started getting messages from friends and acquaintances saying they couldn't shake the same word when they thought of me.
It all culminated into this magical moment of answered prayer, in the first week of January. It was then I knew for sure that was the word God had given me for 2019.
As 2019 came to a close...it felt like a stretch for me to use that word to summarize our year. However...in ways that aren't seen at first glance, I see it.
Blessing. That was the word.
The last several years were hard. Hard, hard years. As in...many times I would use the word 'blessing' to simply describe the fact that we had all survived it. But blessing doesn't always come tied with a sparkly bow, just the way I like it. Blessing was the undercurrent of 2019. Blessing came initially...in a huge, tangible way. But then the year brought it's own dose of hard. The loss of another baby...just to name one.
It was Christmas Day when I looked at my husband and said "I've never been so satisfied. So content. Never ever felt so blessed." That's when it occurred to both of us...though I had forgotten about my word of the year...that it had been true. Though not in the ways I had anticipated.
As 2019 came to a close...I was blank. I had nothing. For me to pick a word...I would literally have been choosing a word to my own liking. Thatttt's not quite what I had in mind. I was praying about a word, direction...but nothing came.
Our oldest daughter turned 16 in November. Every year on her birthday she starts reading the Bible all over again in Genesis 1. Every year she finishes the last chapter of Revelation on the day before her birthday. Five years in a row. Talk about your child showing you up! So this year...I told her I was committed...we would do it together.
It was January 2 when I was reading in Deuteronomy. I was excited to finally get to a new book and then as I read chapter 1...a verse popped out on the page. I read with my pen in hand as it keeps my mind focussed. Underlining or writing notes as I go in my journal Bible.
But this...in verse 6...The Lord turned and said to the Israelites:
"You have stayed long enough at this mountain..."
My pen immediately underlined the verse. I felt my heart pounding. I tried to keep reading but my eyes were glued to the page. Why did that jump out at me? After reading all the way through from Genesis 1...this wasn't exactly something unique. But it was as if it was 3d on the page. I knew it was for me.
Quickly, my mind was racing. What was 'this mountain' for me?
The mountain of grief. The mountain of loss. The mountain of a pain so deep I physically felt like half of my heart was no longer functioning. The mountain of hopes and dreams exploding in a volcano in front of me.
The mountain of all out despair.
I have been at that mountain. On that mountain. Pitched my tent there. Starting to dig to pour a foundation there. Believing that this was my new home. This mountain.
"You have stayed long enough at this mountain..."
I'm not sure how much time had passed that my eyes locked on that verse, with my mind racing through the last 3 years of our lives. Suddenly I was back and reading again.
Verse 8: "See, I have set the land before you. Go in and take possession of that land..."
My pen was out and marking. I can still see the page how it appeared to me...as if everything else was in faint italics and these two partial verses were in a bold font.
I went back and read it again.
You have stayed long enough at this mountain...See I have set the land before you. GO in and take possession of that land.
All the things. I have felt stuck here. Mentally. Emotionally...stuck. Here at this mountain. And as painful as it is...oddly, it's hard to leave it. I have lived at this mountain for so long. Who am I apart from it?
Identity is that sneaky thing ... we think we are on it...but woah.
Had you asked me several years ago if I had wrapped my identity up with what God had called me to do...I would have told you that I was very aware of that danger and absolutely not. But somehow...that snuck in.
If you have 2 daughters and 2 sons....and through some horrific tragedy, you lose both your sons...does this mess with your identity? Are you a boy mom? Had you wrapped your shoulders in that identity? Do you delete yourself from those groups on social media? Are you still one of them? See how this gets in and almost redefines who we are?
It was a confusing part of being camped out on this mountain. I can honestly say I didn't know who I was anymore. The identity of what I had done...had snuck in to my core belief of who I was. And once it was gone...I was lost. There was an odd void and shame that really had no place in our story...but it was there.
I felt I had found my purpose...and that was taken from me.
I remember a moment so clearly that I had a peak into reality. Dean and I were walking one evening and I voiced out loud...perhaps for the first time...that I no longer knew who I was and what my purpose was. I'll never forget the look on his face and the genuine shock as he turned to me and said, without hesitation, "Your purpose has never ever been more clear to me." He didn't need to say more, didn't need to spell anything out. Sometimes you just need to see the authentic, deep belief in someone else that you aren't a 'has-been'.
I did not write my story. Yes...yes...at the beginning of the year we want to believe we hold the pen to fill all the blank pages that lay ahead of us in the coming year. And to one degree, we do. We can set our goals, we can overcome, we can accomplish. But there's much of our story that we have no control over. We choose how to respond and if we will overcome, but we do not hold the pen. I would like to think that there were one million different ways to get to the desired end result in our story...other than the one that was written for us. But my wisdom is so limited. I am not God. And surrender is still my daily battle.
So 2020 doesn't have a word per se...it has a verse. Two, actually.
"You have been at this mountain long enough...
See, I have set the land before you...GO in and take possession of that land..."
Last year I really struggled with my word. It was crystal clear...I just wasn't very open. I remember finally agreeing to the word, with a commitment to keep it to myself. Out of nowhere I started getting messages from friends and acquaintances saying they couldn't shake the same word when they thought of me.
It all culminated into this magical moment of answered prayer, in the first week of January. It was then I knew for sure that was the word God had given me for 2019.
As 2019 came to a close...it felt like a stretch for me to use that word to summarize our year. However...in ways that aren't seen at first glance, I see it.
Blessing. That was the word.
The last several years were hard. Hard, hard years. As in...many times I would use the word 'blessing' to simply describe the fact that we had all survived it. But blessing doesn't always come tied with a sparkly bow, just the way I like it. Blessing was the undercurrent of 2019. Blessing came initially...in a huge, tangible way. But then the year brought it's own dose of hard. The loss of another baby...just to name one.
It was Christmas Day when I looked at my husband and said "I've never been so satisfied. So content. Never ever felt so blessed." That's when it occurred to both of us...though I had forgotten about my word of the year...that it had been true. Though not in the ways I had anticipated.
As 2019 came to a close...I was blank. I had nothing. For me to pick a word...I would literally have been choosing a word to my own liking. Thatttt's not quite what I had in mind. I was praying about a word, direction...but nothing came.
Our oldest daughter turned 16 in November. Every year on her birthday she starts reading the Bible all over again in Genesis 1. Every year she finishes the last chapter of Revelation on the day before her birthday. Five years in a row. Talk about your child showing you up! So this year...I told her I was committed...we would do it together.
It was January 2 when I was reading in Deuteronomy. I was excited to finally get to a new book and then as I read chapter 1...a verse popped out on the page. I read with my pen in hand as it keeps my mind focussed. Underlining or writing notes as I go in my journal Bible.
But this...in verse 6...The Lord turned and said to the Israelites:
"You have stayed long enough at this mountain..."
My pen immediately underlined the verse. I felt my heart pounding. I tried to keep reading but my eyes were glued to the page. Why did that jump out at me? After reading all the way through from Genesis 1...this wasn't exactly something unique. But it was as if it was 3d on the page. I knew it was for me.
Quickly, my mind was racing. What was 'this mountain' for me?
The mountain of grief. The mountain of loss. The mountain of a pain so deep I physically felt like half of my heart was no longer functioning. The mountain of hopes and dreams exploding in a volcano in front of me.
The mountain of all out despair.
I have been at that mountain. On that mountain. Pitched my tent there. Starting to dig to pour a foundation there. Believing that this was my new home. This mountain.
"You have stayed long enough at this mountain..."
I'm not sure how much time had passed that my eyes locked on that verse, with my mind racing through the last 3 years of our lives. Suddenly I was back and reading again.
Verse 8: "See, I have set the land before you. Go in and take possession of that land..."
My pen was out and marking. I can still see the page how it appeared to me...as if everything else was in faint italics and these two partial verses were in a bold font.
I went back and read it again.
You have stayed long enough at this mountain...See I have set the land before you. GO in and take possession of that land.
All the things. I have felt stuck here. Mentally. Emotionally...stuck. Here at this mountain. And as painful as it is...oddly, it's hard to leave it. I have lived at this mountain for so long. Who am I apart from it?
Identity is that sneaky thing ... we think we are on it...but woah.
Had you asked me several years ago if I had wrapped my identity up with what God had called me to do...I would have told you that I was very aware of that danger and absolutely not. But somehow...that snuck in.
If you have 2 daughters and 2 sons....and through some horrific tragedy, you lose both your sons...does this mess with your identity? Are you a boy mom? Had you wrapped your shoulders in that identity? Do you delete yourself from those groups on social media? Are you still one of them? See how this gets in and almost redefines who we are?
It was a confusing part of being camped out on this mountain. I can honestly say I didn't know who I was anymore. The identity of what I had done...had snuck in to my core belief of who I was. And once it was gone...I was lost. There was an odd void and shame that really had no place in our story...but it was there.
I felt I had found my purpose...and that was taken from me.
I remember a moment so clearly that I had a peak into reality. Dean and I were walking one evening and I voiced out loud...perhaps for the first time...that I no longer knew who I was and what my purpose was. I'll never forget the look on his face and the genuine shock as he turned to me and said, without hesitation, "Your purpose has never ever been more clear to me." He didn't need to say more, didn't need to spell anything out. Sometimes you just need to see the authentic, deep belief in someone else that you aren't a 'has-been'.
I did not write my story. Yes...yes...at the beginning of the year we want to believe we hold the pen to fill all the blank pages that lay ahead of us in the coming year. And to one degree, we do. We can set our goals, we can overcome, we can accomplish. But there's much of our story that we have no control over. We choose how to respond and if we will overcome, but we do not hold the pen. I would like to think that there were one million different ways to get to the desired end result in our story...other than the one that was written for us. But my wisdom is so limited. I am not God. And surrender is still my daily battle.
So 2020 doesn't have a word per se...it has a verse. Two, actually.
"You have been at this mountain long enough...
See, I have set the land before you...GO in and take possession of that land..."
This mountain long enough. YES!
ReplyDeleteGO take the land.
What comes to me is the abundance of the land , Joshua and Caleb too.
People being afraid of Giants in the land.
You have faced many GIANTS.
Enjoy the abundance as you go <3
I have been here, and many times I feel like I am still camped on his mountain. 11 years ago, my life was turned upside down after 10 years in ministry. My whole life was music, and being involved in the worship team and youth group at church. When I lost that I felt like I lost my identity. Some days I continue to struggle to figure out what my purpose is now. What I have realized during this 11 years, is that while I lost what I thought was my identity at the time. It was so that I could focus on what I was neglecting during that time. My home, my wife, my family. So while I continue to find a newfound "purpose", I can see that slowly I have been coming down the other side of the mountain, as God continues to form me and shape me, and help me to focus on other things that still have kingdom impact.
ReplyDeleteWhile I often want to write my own story... I am constantly reminded that I need to stop trying to take God's pen. I am a firm believer that, while God can work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies in our lives, this doesn't mean he causes them. God using our situations, does not mean he caused it, or that he needed it to happen in order to accomplish his purposes. Grace doesn't depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace.
“In my deepest wound, I see your glory, and it dazzles me.” - St. Augustine
Kirk W