A Personal God

As a people we have leaned into a culture where we need to discuss everything, this ‘catharsis’ way of life is often lived out to an unknown social media crowd rather than unto the preciousness and privilege of intimate communion. It leads to creating a narcissistic culture, that is disjointed from our high kingdom call.   Our stories are precious, our narratives sacred, but its not all about us. There is a  power in telling our stories, our vulnerabilities, and yet we can easily lose this when we cast our pearls freely and tell all. Indeed I myself am a passionate teller of story, one who will lead from vulnerability over a false togetherness and strength, however, I have learned how to be harnessed, bridling the weaknesses to be steered and revealed through Gods Sovereign strength. To point to the One who is and has grace that is fully sufficient in everything I face, to whom I am indebted. For my story is weaved into realities that are forged through the power of His love. Our stories are told to bring glory to the author.

To testify is to recognise His greater realties. To be silent and hide is no good either, especially if it's derived from shame, we are called to be loved and to be loved we must show ourselves, the who and how is where I believe we can find a healthy balance, and reveals our Kingdom position and call. There are chapters of my story I’m not quick to tell, chapters that are more than precious, moments in the story where perfect love had to fight for me and be fought for, pages of triumph and great grace, pages that are filled with pain and needed the balm of comfort to bring form to. There are chapters that are sacred, mine, Divine and shouldn’t be told. And then there are those that have timings, appointed time when its beautiful to tell, as everything does have its time and season, and yet still perhaps these are only told in part. For the Spirit of Wisdom leads us well as we allow Him to apply His narrative to our lives, and often we are invited to the wisdom of waiting, gestating, that allows fruit to fully form.

There is a beauty and sacredness to our stories and journeys, the treasures they add to us and forge in us become invitations to others, but we cannot cast ourselves into the world until we mine out those jewels, we should not want to. We must allow our stories to take form and word from intimacy with, and the authority of, God to whom we yield authorship and from whom there is definition.

When I was diagnosed and began my health battles I determined to be undefined by them. Undefined in my identity and undefined by it in my narrative. Because I am not my sickness and sickness is not the story. I have fought for that to be true, I have fought the temptation to tell all to receive comfort or validation, at times I have really wanted to. I have fought, a costly fight at times, to live above the script disease wants to tell. Yet, I am no fool; It's here, part of the journey, even part of me, and eighteen years on, it is in many ways part of every page of my story. However, what is truer still is that I am defined by a greater narrative and a superior reality, and I trust wholly in the Authors loving truth, without which I am beaten.

In Romans 8:28 I receive the promise that out of the ashes of my pain and the places of my grief promise stands sure. The threads of goodness will weave through, because in all things God works things together for good. Hope is not disappointing because hope is a person I walk with, leaning upon through every sense of wilderness that any suffering, and indeed long term sickness can bring. God’s kingdom invites us into glorious and mysterious paradoxes, because along those valleys He is simultaneously my promised land, and as such His presence and the story He tells has no lack.  There is always a greater reality. The wildernesses are overshadowed by the presence of the One who is our promise keeper, the way, my way, my truth and my life.  He is present in it all. Unwavering and unchanging.

I narrate parts of the story from time to time, in this case it was a privilege and honour to be asked to contribute to an editorial journal 'Grace Moments', a story collective revealing the extravagant grace of God that is laced through lives. This is most surely my story, and I added it to this literary project with joy.

Everything I write, I write with one thing burning in my heart, that the words would be an invitation to receive and to feast, to encounter the very present and personal God.  To know Him. He calls us ever to know Him. This is the power of testimony, as we live before Him we find the words to tell our stories from heavens perspective, it is this that births victory, triumph, joy and legacy. This is the fruit of our lives when we rest them in the hands of our Almighty, who does all things well, and works all things together for good. May the stories we tell be told in the timing that produces good fruit for feasting.

Here is a chapter lets say, of my story, it’s personal, and yet it is drenched with the grace and goodness of a personal God.   [As written for the aforementioned journal.]

May God, who is steadfast and present be revealed to you as you read, and may you find and hear His loving truths as personal towards you, and in your own story.

I was caught by surprise in a battle for a future I had assumed would be mine. A battle for health and hope, a future with both.  The battle I found myself in was not one I felt equipped for nor had I a strategy of how to advance, and yet I found a reality that had equipped me, I had been brought into union with the One who is my Way, Truth, and Life in all things I face. I am the beloved of The Song of Songs who walked and walks through the wilderness. The places of pain, confusion, disorientation, and sorrow, leaning on her beloved, the One who is victorious in the battle, He who is my promise,  my Way, my Truth, and all Life.

Two years into our marriage the years were already scarred with months of pain, sickness, weakness, and hospital visits. My heart was in sorrow for the loss our newlywed life bore, my body raged a war within and no one could tell us why, my mind began to grow dull to hope. The giants stood tall around us and I felt small. We finally got the diagnosis and with it relief that we knew what we were facing married with numbness that my chances of conceiving without In Vitro Fertilisation, or conceive at all were minimal. I was now sentenced to a story of chronic pain with no possible cure and the future I anticipated had been wiped off the canvas. Some moments interrupt our journeys and change everything. This was one of those. When things suddenly fall apart we grapple to find what we can cling to, as I journeyed through grief and guilt I learned I must cleave to hope and hope is a person called Jesus. To keep hope would be my first victory on this battlefield. 

There was a sudden solitude and numbness that overtook, grief, emptiness, brokenness, and failure. Shame rose in my heart and it cast its weighty shadow over me, guilt showed up by its side to steal even more. As we went to appointments, specialists, had scans, and procedures the news only ever got worse. There was no chance, I was too broken. Shame and pain crafted a narrative for me but within all the noise and the giants I faced a sound was rising, I heard the Father’s voice ‘In repentance [returning] and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength’. I was being wooed back to the abiding place where I would find confidence and strength. It was here I began to find the substance of hope and conviction that enabled me to face the giants and stand through a battle with victory in mind. He had spoken, His grace and love, His kindness and mercy would be my portion come what may. His power is made perfect in my weakness. I needed to give all to Him. I was facing the giant, intimidated, like the Israelites I was looking at the giant, chronic sickness and infertility, loss, and shame, but I realised I needed to look as David did, look at God. Look to Him, at who He is.  Here I found something greater than fear. My strength in the battle was to know Him and see Him rightly, not through the dim lens of circumstance or bad news. To know Him as He is and hold onto Him. Our hope can not, will not, disappoint when it’s rooted in the person of hope to whom nothing is impossible. This is the battle. We fight for this. That which is more powerful than fear is my conviction. Conviction comes as we choose to behold and know God’s heart. My conviction lay in the goodness and provision of God. Even when I don’t fully comprehend my story I am fully convinced of God and His goodness. 

He creates, He is life and He is always good. With Him I am able, I am weak and I am vulnerable but I am able because He is who He is and He is sufficient, power to my weakness. I am confident in Him, covered by His love, love that’s unfailing and constant. My conviction of this is more powerful than every fear. Even when fear rises. This is the posture of faith. I have had to battle fear, fear of the future, fear of loss, fear of defeat. Fear stands to taunt faith and hope, it seeks to steal.  But I have determined to live close to God’s heart, my conviction is more powerful than fear and its lies.

He is greater than the circumstances I face. Hannah’s story told me that the pain of impossibility can find a safe landing place in His presence.  He is the God who holds us while we heal and as we grieve.  We are not too much for Him, He is El Roi, the God who sees. As I learned to pour out the pain I found promises in Him. Promises of life, He called me a mother, I didn’t have the ability to succeed in either, but His promise stood firm. He had come to give me life, life abundant and in Him I would find it. My battle was to remain in Him, to find confidence in His promises, come what may. He is true and He is faithful. When He said He is the Way, the Truth, the Life He meant it. My way, my truth, and my life, the source of all my living. Would I take His way? Would I hear His truth? And would I trust Him for life? I determined to trust in His ways even when they were laden with mystery, to trust in His truth even if other things tried to speak louder. To trust Him, in His life, I had to live in this conviction. 

My persistence through the years looked like hiding myself in Him, pouring out my heart, courage was found here. He is my refuge, the shadow of disease, shame, of loss, failure, and infertility are overshadowed in Him. I have cultivated a quiet confidence throughout the battles by abiding in Him.

Suddenly’ comes in all manner of ways. I found out I was pregnant in late autumn 2012, three years on. I was overwhelmed by the kindness and mercy of my God who sees.  My very present El Roi in my need. For a time I tasted and experienced promises and goodness in my being. He sees, He saw and life had come. I lost that little baby on New Year’s Day 2013 and too I lost the ability to draw breath. My heart deflated. Deep sorrow, breathlessness of loss, and a broken heart overshadowed. I felt defeated as if the battle was truly lost. I didn’t know how to rise, to gain confidence or strength. I deemed giants were sometimes too big. And yet, amid my sorrow, I knew I had a choice to make. Would I lean on Him and trust Him now within this great loss or would I surrender to the enemy and fear? I wanted to keep my heart tender, to trust, to hope against all hope, and believe in God’s heart towards me, a safe refuge in my devastation. I positioned my heart to do so for even in the pain His promises remained.

In the battle, another suddenly interrupted our journey. I was once again pregnant. I continued to hold my breath and battle fear whilst leaning into the comfort, kindness, and grace of the Father whose presence was courage and power to my frailty and weakness. Who gave me strength and mercy in my great need. A son was born to us, a gift of life, new life in a child. As a new mother holding his life, I realised I could indeed breathe again, I had grown accustomed to a deflated heart, but Father’s whispers of life and life abundant were manifest to me. He is my Way, Truth, and Life constant through all storms. I bore His victory on this battlefield, there would be many more to take and war for. Yet, in this triumph, I can speak of a testimony that is a weapon against the assault of shame, fear, and guilt, past and to come. The scars I bear are not erased, I wear them in a multitude of ways yet they are no longer my weaknesses but my story. The story, my story made the stones I can throw at giants.