Tag Archives: despair

Moments Made for Worshipping

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my-favorite

This is a moment made for worshipping.

What if the moment is filled with heartache? What if we’ve forgotten how?

This is still a moment made for worshipping.

We can easily forget how to look up – up toward God Almighty. And if we’ve forgotten how, then we need a refresher course on who God is. He is the God of swaddling clothes. He knows how to wrap us up – His children – in such a way that we are comforted and cared for. And, when we are wrapped, we know what protection and love and grace is all about.

Oh, to become like little children who allow themselves to be comforted in the arms of God!

In the moments when I tell myself — and honestly believe that I can’t do this thing called life much longer – I listen to this song (words have been slightly altered) –

Monday morning – hiding again.

Somewhere in the distance I remember yesterday

Singing hallelujah, full of wonder.

But right now I’m just wondering –

Why don’t I feel anything at all?

It’s not about feelings, is it? Where did we ever get the idea, after all, that life was a bucket filled with everything we could ever dream of? Where was the birth certificate that says, “Endless bliss and contentment, from here on out kid.” Yet, we feel it should be. Somewhere amongst the bliss and contentment that others are enjoying, our bucket appears empty and we feel cheated. No one feels like worshipping when they feel jipped.

Every little girl has heard of Cinderella in some shape or form and dreamt the dream of being a princess. Entertained the crown, the carefree lifestyle – the lie. Little girls that I’ve known, don’t grow up and ride off into the sunset. Little girls grow up to be single moms and working wives, battered and bruised, unappreciated and unloved. They come from broken homes without examples of unconditional love and scattered instead with love that has boundaries, intruders that steal their innocence and surrounded by walls made of steel. They come from homes that don’t believe in happily ever afters but hang on to Santa and the Easter bunny instead, where happiness is seen twice a year. They come from homes that have replaced hope for hangovers and morals for immorality. And all the while, in the midst of these moments that can bring us to despair, they are the moments made for worshipping.

Why a moment made for worshipping if all we seem to feel is pain and all we seem to look upon is heartache? Because – God hasn’t changed and He never will. He was there for Moses and parted the waters, leaving an almighty and angry God to deal with the bad boys on God’s terms. He was there for David to take Goliath down with one of five stones, strategically placed in his noggin. He was there for Peter when he walked on the water. But like Peter, we forget He’s there and look down and begin to understand what if feels like to be drowning. We forget who God is and that He longs to save us – as many times as it takes.

We desperately need saving so often – don’t we?

How do we worship in those times? In the times when the tears won’t turn off? In the times when we are overwhelmed with life’s burdens? We worship with those steady tears and by bringing our bags full of burdens to the throne of God. We remember that our tears are precious to the Lord, who told us He stores them in a bottle. He knows every moment that we have been hurt. We worship because He loves us – in tears of pain or in tears of joy. We worship by laying our burdens at his feet – saying without speaking that we trust Him to take it. We believe that He will do what He says. In that – He is glorified.

A moment made for worshipping. It’s easy on Sundays. It’s the Mondays we need to put on the hard hats and remind ourselves to stay focused – to keep our eyes on Him in order to keep us from sinking. When Peter tried to go solo, he started going under.

We can’t go it alone. We need His strength, His power, His grace and His mercy to sustain us. We especially know that, when life is painful. That makes those moments in life, moments made for worshipping. Moments when we realize we can’t, and that He is, He does, and He will.

-Sherri

[1] Steven Curtis Chapman, A Moment Made for Worshipping, from the album ‘All About Love’

Because of the Redwoods – Finding My Way Out of the Pit

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tree-webToday was a good day. A few weeks ago, I wrote a status update on Facebook, something to the effect that, “Life is hard, but there’s always a tomorrow.” However that day, I hadn’t experienced a yesterday.

Yesterday was the darkest day of my life. The worship pastor today said, “We can’t even begin to understand what life without Christ would be like.”

Oh… yes, ‘we’ can.

Two days ago, my husband and I went for a ride. We drove down Redwood Highway in the upper most tip of Northern California. You know what is along the Redwood Highway? Redwoods. What are redwoods? They are some of the biggest, most majestic trees in the world. At one point along this stretch of road, you can get off at a scenic viewpoint and get out of your car to take in the beauty of one of the largest trees in the universe. This particular redwood tree stands over 300 feet tall and some crazy measurement in diameter (I’d tell you, but I don’t remember). Let’s just say, it is, humongous.

I grew up around redwood trees. Some quite large, I might add. However, not any that surrounded our house compared to this one. Not one. Anyhow, we got home late Friday. Then there was tomorrow – Saturday. About ten o’clock it started. Hopelessness. Despair. Doubt. A desire to give up.

Have you ever felt like – believed – God was not only not listening – He just didn’t care? That was my day. That was the place I was in.

I remember reading a few years ago about someone who experienced a dark day, after honestly wondering what it would have felt like when Jesus hung on the cross and God turned away. God showed that person that dark place. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t even care to go there, to know what that would be like (because, after all, who would wish to go through that?), and yet God, in His infinite wisdom, took me there anyway?

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, David said. Walk? Yesterday I was running – sprinting – desperate for an exit out of that horrid valley. I could literally feel the enemy breathing down my neck. The shadow was as heavy and pressing down upon me as real as death itself. I would close my eyes and see myself holding on to the edge of a high cliff, frantically looking around and screaming, “God, where did You go?!?”

All my questions – no answers. All my tears – no bottle to catch them in. All my confusion – no one to make sense of it. All my hope – grew darker and darker by the second. My faith? It was like it was there, but I couldn’t grasp it. It dangled in front of me like a child playing with a ball of yarn in front of a cat.

It was like a cruel joke – a test that was rigged. And I fell for the joke and failed the test. The darkness overpowered me and I lost my grip on that ledge and plundered to the pit of hell. I lost my faith and my hope went along with it.

That place – is a dark place to be, to say the least. I cried tears I thought were gone. Tears that wouldn’t stop. My husband was beside himself. Yet, in the darkness, there is no encouragement. There is no affirmation. There only remains discouragement and condemnation. In that kind of darkness, there is no hope and faith is non-existent.

I thought my tears would never end. I asked my husband, “Do you believe in God?” I knew his answer, but somewhere, somehow, for some reason, I desperately needed to hear it, the way you need to know the truth and have something worthy to believe in.

His ‘yes’ resounded with the utmost surety.

“Why?” was the next question.

“Because of the redwood trees.”

I can’t tell you why, but I felt like at that moment, though silent still, God picked me up off of the ground and stood me on my feet. I’d like to be able to tell you that He pulled me up out of that pit and stood me on a green pasture. Instead, He made me climb out of that hole, one rocky ledge at a time.

The first ledge was that redwood tree. Tell me a big bang did that. I hardly think so. The second was my granddaughter. Her smile. Her giggle. Her eyes. The way she grabs my legs when she runs up to me. Okay – that may have been five ledges up. But, I was beginning to see light and my tears weren’t coming as steadily.

I could tell you that I pulled myself out of that pit, but I’d be lying. The only possible way I got out was because, though I couldn’t see Him, or hear Him, or even ‘feel’ Him, He was there. He wasn’t pulling me out, He was down there – in the darkness with me – pushing me up.

One last push and I crumbled to the ground above, literally exhausted. I laid there. Barely audible, I told my husband, “I’ve been trusting the wrong people.”

He asked what I meant.

I’m writing a book and in it, ‘Emma’ is the main character. “I’m like Emma. She trusted all the wrong people – everyone but God.”

I trusted myself to get us out of this place we were in, so much so that I was resigned to stop medication I need every day. I trusted in others to pray. I trusted in my husband to get a job. These things weren’t bad, but I trusted in everyone but God. I was relying on Him to provide in all these things, but I wasn’t trusting Him to work everything for good – His good. I had my own agenda.

“You’ve got to take your hands off and let go,” my husband said.

Sounds like another problem Emma has. That Emma girl – she’s more like me than I realized.

When it hit me, that I’ve been so far off base, I said out loud (my husband was listening), “I’m letting go – putting the baggage down and letting go. Everything I’ve done hasn’t worked. There’s nothing left but to let God do it His way.”

A peace washed over me and the darkness that enveloped me only moments before melted before the light. I honestly thought I was letting God do it His way. Problem was, I was telling Him my way in my prayers and just assumed it was His way.

And so I let go. A smile returned and so did my hope.

That was yesterday. Today we woke and went to a new church and I think we may have found ‘home’. We met the pastor (not knowing it was the pastor) who grew up in Scotts Valley, our home town. He gave a message of salvation like none I had ever heard before and immediately following the message, baptized four brand new believers – all in their Sunday clothes. It was the most awesome thing. Except for maybe the song that we sang…

My times are in Your hands
I know I’ll never understand
But I’ll trust in You…
I’m sorry when I take control
How I’m needing You
Even when I fall You help me stand
Even when I’m lost You take my hand

I will hold on
I will hold on
I will hold on
Yes, I will trust in You

My life is in Your hands
You hold the key to who I am
And I’ll trust in You…
How I’m needing You

You will hold on
You will hold on
You will hold on
I am trusting You.

That’s my song – He’s in control, not me. And He’s holding on… to me and you can be that I’m holding on to Him. And when others ask why I believe what I do – that He is there, seen or unseen, through the dark or in the light, I’ll say – “Because of the redwoods.”

Going Back

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bee-on-yellow-flower-cropped-webOne of my favorite places this year has been the rose garden at the company of Harry and David. They used to own Jackson and Perkins until they sold it a few years ago. Jackson and Perkins specialized in roses. Harry and David’s rose garden was the ‘test’ garden. Every color, species, and size of rose you can imagine, hangs out at Harry and David’s garden.

I’ve made several trips to the garden this year, while living in Oregon. I’ve taken guests there, my granddaughter, my neighbor and more. Most of them have had a similar reaction to mine… breathless. Speechless. In awe.

The colors are magnificent and stunning, surprising in some instances as they flower buds in a deep red, opens to orange and fades to a yellow. Some have one large stem that dons eight or more blooms – a bouquet in itself.

When I have gone alone is when I can truly take my time and enjoy every step. I could spend the day there. There are asters, lilies, peonies and butterfly bushes. Ornamental grasses, fruit trees, lavender and well – I could go on and on – it’s there. The saddest thing to me is that no one else is every there. It’s always void of someone to walk it’s path, linger over the fragrances as my little granddaughter loves to do.

In each row, with each step, I find a reason to praise God. With each water drop that twinkles in the sun’s rays, I find a reason to smile. With each honeybee that buzzes from one petal to the next, I almost laugh. I find I can disconnect from the despair I sometimes feel. The tough moments. The trying times. The mundane. I can walk on the thick, lush grass and find one more bloom, one more color, one more surprise to be thankful for.

Eventually it’s time to go home. I have filled up the camera card with pictures of bees, blooms and bunnies. I download the photos onto my computer and relive those moments again. I see God in every picture. I see His beauty, His creativity, His peace, His provision. I see how He cares for me.

I hadn’t been to the rose garden for a while and as I walked the paths today, God refreshed my spirit. Sometimes we get caught up in the day to day despair of life. In the tough stuff that we must deal with. In the tedious, the mundane, monotonous day to day of life. We wonder if there’s anything greater than washing dishes, folding clothes, or taking the garbage out.

And then, we spontaneously take a trip back to a place where once we were met by God and find Him there once again. And once again, so faithful as in the times before, He strengthens and refreshes our spirit. Sometimes going back is a good thing. Sometimes it’s the only way to go forward.

I encourage you today, if you’re tired, weary, worn out and feel defeated, think of that place where you have met God and been renewed. If at all possible – go there and bask in the love and grace of His presence. If it’s not possible to go there, find a quiet place where you can close your eyes and remember the time (or times) you did, dwell on it and He will come to you, right where you are. Let Him fill you up. He will. Count on it.

Sherri