When we suffer, sometimes one of the first prayers is that others whom we love may not suffer in that way. This is just a faint reflection of His love, for He, Who was led into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil, taught us to pray, Lead us not into temptation. Yet often we are sorely tempted. Help comes by remembering that love is behind even that. "This is My beloved Son, in Whom I am well pleased. Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness." There is wonderful comfort in that Then.
....Out of wilderness experience our wonderful Lord gives us something to use for the help of others. It was so with Him: "In that He Himself hath suffered being tempted, He is able to succour them that are tempted." Is it not worth while to go through anything if only in the end others may be helped?
--from Edges of His Ways, by Amy Carmichael (emphasis mine)
Friday, May 13, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
"The prince and the count always insist on everyone being healthy before they're broken."
"Let the bones that you have broken rejoice." Psalm 51:8
I must admit it; I have a low tolerance for difficulty. I am a project-oriented person, so I tend to have an agenda for every day. I know exactly what I want to accomplish and what a successful day will look like. I don't want to have to deal with interruptions or obstructions. I want the situations, locations, and people around me to willingly participate in my plan. All of this means that it's counterintuitive for me to view difficultly as something beneficial. I've little time and tolerance for "broken bones."
My problem is that my Redeemer is the redeemer of broken bones. Maybe you're thinking, "Paul, what in the world are you talking about?" "Broken bones" is a physical metaphor for the pain of redemption. In case you've noticed, God's work of delivering you from your addiction to self and sin and molding you into his image isn't always a comfortable process. Sometimes, in order to make our crooked hearts straight God has to break some bones. I gotta confess, I don't like broken bones.
I love the way the prophet Amos talks about this (Amos 4). It's a bit of a disconcerting passage until you wrap your brain around what the prophet is saying about why God is doing what he's doing. Listen to the "broken bones" phraseology of this passage:
"I gave you cleanness of teeth in all your cities,
and lack of bread in all your places."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I also withheld the rain from you
when there were yet three months to the harvest;
I would send rain on one city...
one field would have rain,
and the field on which it did not rain would wither;
so two or three cities would wander to another city
to drink water, and would not be satisfied."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I struck you with blight and mildew;
your many gardens and your vineyards,
your fig trees and your olive trees the locust devoured."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I sent among you a pestilence after the manner of Egypt;
I killed your young men with the sword,
and carried away your horses,
and I made the stench of your camp go up into your nostrils."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I overthrew some of you, as when God overthrew Sodom and
Gomorrah,
and you were as a brand plucked out of the burning."
AMOS 4:6-11
Now, you have to ask, "Why would a God of love do this to the people he says he loves?" Well, there's a phrase that's repeated after every stanza of this scary poem that's the answer to this question. Pay attention to these words: "yet you did not return to me." These acts that seem like the product of vengeful anger are actually acts of redemptive love. You see, in doing these things God is actually fulfilling his covenantal commitment to satisfy the deepest needs of his people. And what is it that they need most? The answer is simple and clear throughout all of Scripture; more than anything else they need him!
But this is exactly where the rub comes in. Although our greatest personal need is to live in a life-shaping relationship with the Lord, as sinners we have hearts that are prone to wander. We very quickly forget him and begin to put some aspect of the creation in his place. We very soon forget that he's to be the center of everything we do, and we put ourselves in the center of our universe. We easily lose sight of the fact that our hearts were made for him, and that deep sense of well-being that all of us seek can only be found in him. We rapidly forget the powerfully addicting dangers of sin and think we can step over God's boundaries without moral cost. So, God in the beauty of his redeeming love will "break our bones." He'll bring us through difficulty, want, suffering, sadness, loss, and grief in order to ensure that we are living in pursuit of the one thing that we desperately need--him.
It's time for us to embrace, teach, and encourage others with the theology of uncomfortable grace. As long as sin still lives inside of us, producing in each of us a propensity to forget and wander, God's grace will come to us in uncomfortable forms. You may be wondering where the grace of God is in your life, when actually you're getting it. But it's not the grace of release or relief; no, you're getting the uncomfortable grace of rescue, relationship, and refinement.
So, if you are God's child, resist the temptation to doubt his goodness in the middle of your stress. It's time for us to stop thinking that our difficulty is a sign of his unfaithfulness and inattention. If you are God's child and you still recognize the battle of sin within, then those difficulties are sure signs of rescuing redemptive love. God isn't withholding his grace from you. No, you're experiencing uncomfortable grace, grace that's willing to break bones in order for your heart to be true. This grace is unwilling to give up. This grace will not turn its back. This grace will not accept the status quo. This grace will not compromise or grow cynical. God hasn't forgotten you. He loves you with real love, and he's giving you real grace. And he'll continue to do so until you're finally free of your propensity to wander away. Now that's real love.
--from Whiter Than Snow: Meditations on Sin and Mercy, by Paul David Tripp (emphasis mine)
I must admit it; I have a low tolerance for difficulty. I am a project-oriented person, so I tend to have an agenda for every day. I know exactly what I want to accomplish and what a successful day will look like. I don't want to have to deal with interruptions or obstructions. I want the situations, locations, and people around me to willingly participate in my plan. All of this means that it's counterintuitive for me to view difficultly as something beneficial. I've little time and tolerance for "broken bones."
My problem is that my Redeemer is the redeemer of broken bones. Maybe you're thinking, "Paul, what in the world are you talking about?" "Broken bones" is a physical metaphor for the pain of redemption. In case you've noticed, God's work of delivering you from your addiction to self and sin and molding you into his image isn't always a comfortable process. Sometimes, in order to make our crooked hearts straight God has to break some bones. I gotta confess, I don't like broken bones.
I love the way the prophet Amos talks about this (Amos 4). It's a bit of a disconcerting passage until you wrap your brain around what the prophet is saying about why God is doing what he's doing. Listen to the "broken bones" phraseology of this passage:
"I gave you cleanness of teeth in all your cities,
and lack of bread in all your places."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I also withheld the rain from you
when there were yet three months to the harvest;
I would send rain on one city...
one field would have rain,
and the field on which it did not rain would wither;
so two or three cities would wander to another city
to drink water, and would not be satisfied."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I struck you with blight and mildew;
your many gardens and your vineyards,
your fig trees and your olive trees the locust devoured."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I sent among you a pestilence after the manner of Egypt;
I killed your young men with the sword,
and carried away your horses,
and I made the stench of your camp go up into your nostrils."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"I overthrew some of you, as when God overthrew Sodom and
Gomorrah,
and you were as a brand plucked out of the burning."
AMOS 4:6-11
Now, you have to ask, "Why would a God of love do this to the people he says he loves?" Well, there's a phrase that's repeated after every stanza of this scary poem that's the answer to this question. Pay attention to these words: "yet you did not return to me." These acts that seem like the product of vengeful anger are actually acts of redemptive love. You see, in doing these things God is actually fulfilling his covenantal commitment to satisfy the deepest needs of his people. And what is it that they need most? The answer is simple and clear throughout all of Scripture; more than anything else they need him!
But this is exactly where the rub comes in. Although our greatest personal need is to live in a life-shaping relationship with the Lord, as sinners we have hearts that are prone to wander. We very quickly forget him and begin to put some aspect of the creation in his place. We very soon forget that he's to be the center of everything we do, and we put ourselves in the center of our universe. We easily lose sight of the fact that our hearts were made for him, and that deep sense of well-being that all of us seek can only be found in him. We rapidly forget the powerfully addicting dangers of sin and think we can step over God's boundaries without moral cost. So, God in the beauty of his redeeming love will "break our bones." He'll bring us through difficulty, want, suffering, sadness, loss, and grief in order to ensure that we are living in pursuit of the one thing that we desperately need--him.
It's time for us to embrace, teach, and encourage others with the theology of uncomfortable grace. As long as sin still lives inside of us, producing in each of us a propensity to forget and wander, God's grace will come to us in uncomfortable forms. You may be wondering where the grace of God is in your life, when actually you're getting it. But it's not the grace of release or relief; no, you're getting the uncomfortable grace of rescue, relationship, and refinement.
So, if you are God's child, resist the temptation to doubt his goodness in the middle of your stress. It's time for us to stop thinking that our difficulty is a sign of his unfaithfulness and inattention. If you are God's child and you still recognize the battle of sin within, then those difficulties are sure signs of rescuing redemptive love. God isn't withholding his grace from you. No, you're experiencing uncomfortable grace, grace that's willing to break bones in order for your heart to be true. This grace is unwilling to give up. This grace will not turn its back. This grace will not accept the status quo. This grace will not compromise or grow cynical. God hasn't forgotten you. He loves you with real love, and he's giving you real grace. And he'll continue to do so until you're finally free of your propensity to wander away. Now that's real love.
--from Whiter Than Snow: Meditations on Sin and Mercy, by Paul David Tripp (emphasis mine)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
"So it's to be torture then? I can cope with torture..."
"There he proved them." (Exod. 15:25.)
I stood once in the test room of a great steel mill. All around me were little partitions and compartments. Steel had been tested to the limit, and marked with figures that showed its breaking point. Some pieces had been twisted until they broke, and the strength of torsion was marked on them. Some had been stretched to the breaking point and their tensile strength indicated. Some had been compressed to the crushing point, and also marked. The master of the steel mill knew just what these pieces of steel would stand under strain. He knew just what they would bear if placed in the great ship, building, or bridge. He knew this because his testing room revealed it.
It is often so with God's children. God does not want us to be like vases of glass or porcelain. He would have us like these toughened pieces of steel, able to bear twisting and crushing to the uttermost without collapse.
He wants us to be, not hothouse plants, but storm-beaten oaks; not sand dunes driven with every gust of wind, but granite rocks withstanding the fiercest storms. To make us such He must needs bring us into His testing room of suffering. Many of us need no other argument than our own experiences to prove that suffering is indeed God's testing room of faith. --J. H. McC.
I stood once in the test room of a great steel mill. All around me were little partitions and compartments. Steel had been tested to the limit, and marked with figures that showed its breaking point. Some pieces had been twisted until they broke, and the strength of torsion was marked on them. Some had been stretched to the breaking point and their tensile strength indicated. Some had been compressed to the crushing point, and also marked. The master of the steel mill knew just what these pieces of steel would stand under strain. He knew just what they would bear if placed in the great ship, building, or bridge. He knew this because his testing room revealed it.
It is often so with God's children. God does not want us to be like vases of glass or porcelain. He would have us like these toughened pieces of steel, able to bear twisting and crushing to the uttermost without collapse.
He wants us to be, not hothouse plants, but storm-beaten oaks; not sand dunes driven with every gust of wind, but granite rocks withstanding the fiercest storms. To make us such He must needs bring us into His testing room of suffering. Many of us need no other argument than our own experiences to prove that suffering is indeed God's testing room of faith. --J. H. McC.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
"Now let's see, where were we? Oh, yes. In the Pit of Despair..."
"And he took him aside from the multitude." Mark 7:33
Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name--not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the--"prisoner of the Lord." He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison become a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit--a new witness stand--and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul's wake. For twelve long years Bunyan's lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, "I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write."
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims.... Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!--S. C. Rees
Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name--not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the--"prisoner of the Lord." He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison become a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit--a new witness stand--and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul's wake. For twelve long years Bunyan's lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, "I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write."
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims.... Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!--S. C. Rees
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
"Don't even think about trying to escape..."
"Shut up to faith." (Galatians 3:23.)
God, in olden time suffered man to be kept in ward by the law that he might learn the more excellent way of faith. For by the law he would see God's holy standard and by the law he would see his own utter helplessness; then he would be glad to learn God's way of faith.
God still shuts us up to faith. Our natures, our circumstances, trials, disappointments, all serve to shut us up and keep us in ward till we see that the only way out is God's way of faith. Moses tried by self-effort, by personal influence, even by violence, to bring about the deliverance of his people. God had to shut him up forty years in the wilderness before he was prepared for God's work.
Paul and Silas were bidden of God to preach the Gospel in Europe. They landed and proceeded to Philippi. They were flogged, they were shut up in prison, their feet were put fast in the stocks. They were shut up to faith. They trusted God. They sang praises to Him in the darkest hour, and God wrought deliverance and salvation.
John was banished to the Isle of Patmos. He was shut up to faith. Had he not been so shut up, he would never have seen such glorious visions of God.
Dear reader, are you in some great trouble? Have you had some great disappointment, have you met some sorrow, some unspeakable loss? Are you in a hard place? Cheer up! You are shut up to faith. Take your trouble the right way. Commit it to God. Praise Him that He maketh "all things work together for good," and that "God worketh for him that waiteth for him." There will be blessings, help and revelations of God that will come to you that never could otherwise have come; and many besides yourself will receive great light and blessing because you were shut up to faith.
--C. H. P. (emphasis mine)
God, in olden time suffered man to be kept in ward by the law that he might learn the more excellent way of faith. For by the law he would see God's holy standard and by the law he would see his own utter helplessness; then he would be glad to learn God's way of faith.
God still shuts us up to faith. Our natures, our circumstances, trials, disappointments, all serve to shut us up and keep us in ward till we see that the only way out is God's way of faith. Moses tried by self-effort, by personal influence, even by violence, to bring about the deliverance of his people. God had to shut him up forty years in the wilderness before he was prepared for God's work.
Paul and Silas were bidden of God to preach the Gospel in Europe. They landed and proceeded to Philippi. They were flogged, they were shut up in prison, their feet were put fast in the stocks. They were shut up to faith. They trusted God. They sang praises to Him in the darkest hour, and God wrought deliverance and salvation.
John was banished to the Isle of Patmos. He was shut up to faith. Had he not been so shut up, he would never have seen such glorious visions of God.
Dear reader, are you in some great trouble? Have you had some great disappointment, have you met some sorrow, some unspeakable loss? Are you in a hard place? Cheer up! You are shut up to faith. Take your trouble the right way. Commit it to God. Praise Him that He maketh "all things work together for good," and that "God worketh for him that waiteth for him." There will be blessings, help and revelations of God that will come to you that never could otherwise have come; and many besides yourself will receive great light and blessing because you were shut up to faith.
--C. H. P. (emphasis mine)
Friday, April 22, 2011
"Do you hear that sound, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels!"
"And the rest, some on boards, some on broken pieces of the ship. And so it came to pass that they escaped all safe to land." (Acts 27:44.)
The marvelous story of Paul's voyage to Rome, with its trials and triumphs, is a fine pattern of the lights and shades of the way of faith all through the story of human life. The remarkable feature of it is the hard and narrow places which we find intermingled with God's most extraordinary interpositions and providences.
It is the common idea that the pathway of faith is strewn with flowers, and that when God interposes in the life of His people, He does it on a scale so grand that He lifts us quite out of the plane of difficulties. The actual fact, however, is that the real experience is quite contrary. The story of the Bible is one of alternate trial and triumph in the case of everyone of the cloud of witnesses from Abel down to the latest martyr.
Paul, more than anyone else, was an example of how much a child of God can suffer without being crushed or broken in spirit. On account of his testifying in Damascus, he was hunted down by persecutors and obliged to fly for his life, but we behold not heavenly chariot transporting the holy apostle amid thunderbolts of flame from the reach of his foes, but "through a window in a basket," was he let down over the walls of Damascus and so escaped their hands.
....Again we find him left for months int he lonely dungeons; we find him telling of his watchings, his fastings, and his desertion by friends, of his brutal and shameful beatings, and here even after God has promised to deliver him, we see him for days left to toss upon a stormy sea, obliged to stand guard over the treacherous seaman, and at last when the deliverance comes, there is no heavenly galley sailing from the skies to take off the noble prisoner; there is no angel from walking along the waters and stilling the raging breakers; there is no supernatural sign of the transcendent miracle that is being wrought; but one is compelled to seize a spar, another floating plank, another to climb on a fragment of the wreck, another to strike out and swim for his life.
Here is God's pattern for our own lives. Here is a Gospel of help fore people that have to live in this every day world with real and ordinary surroundings, and a thousand practical conditions which have to be met in a thoroughly practical way.
God's promises and God's providences do not lift us out of the plane of common sense and commonplace trial, but it is through these very things that faith is perfected, and that God loves to interweave the golden threads of His love along the warp and woof of our every day experience.--Hard Places in the Way of Faith
The marvelous story of Paul's voyage to Rome, with its trials and triumphs, is a fine pattern of the lights and shades of the way of faith all through the story of human life. The remarkable feature of it is the hard and narrow places which we find intermingled with God's most extraordinary interpositions and providences.
It is the common idea that the pathway of faith is strewn with flowers, and that when God interposes in the life of His people, He does it on a scale so grand that He lifts us quite out of the plane of difficulties. The actual fact, however, is that the real experience is quite contrary. The story of the Bible is one of alternate trial and triumph in the case of everyone of the cloud of witnesses from Abel down to the latest martyr.
Paul, more than anyone else, was an example of how much a child of God can suffer without being crushed or broken in spirit. On account of his testifying in Damascus, he was hunted down by persecutors and obliged to fly for his life, but we behold not heavenly chariot transporting the holy apostle amid thunderbolts of flame from the reach of his foes, but "through a window in a basket," was he let down over the walls of Damascus and so escaped their hands.
....Again we find him left for months int he lonely dungeons; we find him telling of his watchings, his fastings, and his desertion by friends, of his brutal and shameful beatings, and here even after God has promised to deliver him, we see him for days left to toss upon a stormy sea, obliged to stand guard over the treacherous seaman, and at last when the deliverance comes, there is no heavenly galley sailing from the skies to take off the noble prisoner; there is no angel from walking along the waters and stilling the raging breakers; there is no supernatural sign of the transcendent miracle that is being wrought; but one is compelled to seize a spar, another floating plank, another to climb on a fragment of the wreck, another to strike out and swim for his life.
Here is God's pattern for our own lives. Here is a Gospel of help fore people that have to live in this every day world with real and ordinary surroundings, and a thousand practical conditions which have to be met in a thoroughly practical way.
God's promises and God's providences do not lift us out of the plane of common sense and commonplace trial, but it is through these very things that faith is perfected, and that God loves to interweave the golden threads of His love along the warp and woof of our every day experience.--Hard Places in the Way of Faith
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
The first post I have actually written...
The other day I was thinking about some friends of mine who have suffered greatly but have still kept the faith. Some of them have are writing about their experiences and have blogs; other just need a little encouragement. So I thought to myself, "I already post the encouraging thoughts of faithful believers who are strangers, so why not my contemporaries and friends?"
The first of those--who might be listed among the "cloud of witnesses"--is my friend, Amanda. Amanda and I went to college together and got to know each other by serving in some of the same campus groups and swapping good music (Over the Rhine, baby!). Now we catch up via phone several times a year and have added book titles to our swap-a-thon; we often find we are reading the same encouraging Christian literature (Streams in the Desert)!
Here is one of my favorite posts from her blog in the past year:
I wanted to share an excerpt that really spoke to me:
" I love how Bruce Campbell says that acceptance involves the willingness to build a new life. He discusses a great analogy on acceptance from one of his self-help groups. The woman wrote an essay, “Welcome to Holland”, where she says that having CFS was like planning a trip to Italy but when the plane lands, you’re told “Welcome to Holland.”
My faith has really been challenged through having CFS. I am constantly repeating Jeremiah 29:11 over and over again: "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." It's so hard for me to trust and let go of all of my worries and fears. I find myself planning things for when I feel better. I try to plan when I'll be able to have a baby, when I'll be able to go get my masters, or when I'll be able to exercise like I used to. But when I'm filling my brain with these thoughts, it doesn't do me any good. Because then I'm constantly thinking about what could happen and not thinking about what I can do. I need to get used to this being my new normal.
So have I fully accepted that I have CFS? I don't know! I guess it depends what day you ask me!
I highly recommend that you read the whole article:
http://www.fightingfatigue.org/?p=8806
--------------------------------------------------------------------
And I highly recommend that you read her whole blog!
http://knittygrittyonlife.blogspot.com/
--Cari
The first of those--who might be listed among the "cloud of witnesses"--is my friend, Amanda. Amanda and I went to college together and got to know each other by serving in some of the same campus groups and swapping good music (Over the Rhine, baby!). Now we catch up via phone several times a year and have added book titles to our swap-a-thon; we often find we are reading the same encouraging Christian literature (Streams in the Desert)!
Here is one of my favorite posts from her blog in the past year:
Friday, December 10, 2010
A new normal
Someone posted this article on another blog that I read. It's all about the stages of adjusting to a chronic illness. The stages mentioned are denial, fear, anger/frustration, grief/depression and then eventually acceptance. I really like how the writer describes each stage. I also feel like I continually go from one stage to the next.I wanted to share an excerpt that really spoke to me:
" I love how Bruce Campbell says that acceptance involves the willingness to build a new life. He discusses a great analogy on acceptance from one of his self-help groups. The woman wrote an essay, “Welcome to Holland”, where she says that having CFS was like planning a trip to Italy but when the plane lands, you’re told “Welcome to Holland.”
“Holland!?” you say. “What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. You have landed in Holland. And there you must stay.This is not the life I signed up for. I really struggle with acceptance because I don't want to believe that this is how I'm going to be for the rest of my life. Instead, I try to focus on accepting how I feel on a daily basis. Instead of thinking, I'm never going to be able to have energy again. I try to think, today I may not feel well but I will try to make the best of it and hopefully tomorrow will be better.
The important thing is that it’s just a different place. You must buy new guidebooks. You must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would not otherwise have met. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there a while, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts.
So, welcome to Holland. Along with the patient in your life, you have landed in an unexpected destination. You have experienced the loss of a dream and are challenged to adjust to a different type of life than you had planned. You have probably lost some companionship and, instead, may have taken on new responsibilities. But, like the person in our class, you have a choice to dwell on what you have lost or to seek out new possibilities.
My faith has really been challenged through having CFS. I am constantly repeating Jeremiah 29:11 over and over again: "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." It's so hard for me to trust and let go of all of my worries and fears. I find myself planning things for when I feel better. I try to plan when I'll be able to have a baby, when I'll be able to go get my masters, or when I'll be able to exercise like I used to. But when I'm filling my brain with these thoughts, it doesn't do me any good. Because then I'm constantly thinking about what could happen and not thinking about what I can do. I need to get used to this being my new normal.
So have I fully accepted that I have CFS? I don't know! I guess it depends what day you ask me!
I highly recommend that you read the whole article:
http://www.fightingfatigue.org/?p=8806
--------------------------------------------------------------------
And I highly recommend that you read her whole blog!
http://knittygrittyonlife.blogspot.com/
--Cari
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)