When peace is the enemy of God

A long long time ago, there was a man name Jehu who was sent to overthrow the kings of Judah and Israel.  They learned he was coming and so they set out in their chariots to meet him and plead for peace.  And his reply was simple:

“What peace can there be, so long as the whorings and the sorceries of your mother Jezebel are so many?” (2 Kings 9:21-22 ESV)

Hmm… Nice job with the Gospel-centered response, Jehu. 

Except, it really is a Gospel centered response. See, there was a pattern with the people of Israel and Judah.

My terrifying treasure

My computer battery has 13% as I start to write this blog post.

Reason says to wait until it is charged.  Logic says that I have a folder of drafts that I could share with you.  My common sense says that the thought I want to share is not fleshed out enough, not polished enough to share in this brief moment, (not when only 10% remains now.)

But I can’t breathe in and out right now without a catch in my breath at the glory of the Gospel.

This truth we call the Gospel – guys – it is insane. Offensive. Confusing. Terrifying.

Just this

Just this, fabs.

This is all you have to do right now.  Be. And sit. And rest. And wait.

You don’t have to do tomorrow yet. Just slow down and stop scrambling to get ahead of whatever might be around the corner.  There are hard things there for sure.  Tomorrow holds challenges and obstacles, but today has obstacles enough of its own: starting with the challenge to be in today and not tomorrow.

You don’t have to do yesterday, with all its bumps and bruises and pain and failure and frustrations – that is not what you have to do today.  You just have to do this moment. Maybe how you feel about yesterday is a part of this moment, but yesterday itself is gone.

4 ways to be there for friends who are hurting

When I was in college I got a phone call in the middle of the night from one of my besties.  She was crying so hard it took me a few full minutes to untangle her words and realize that her mother had died suddenly of a Brain Aneurism.

I remember in the season that followed learning the incredible pain of caring for the grieving.  I remember the horrible feelings of being out of control, of watching someone you love hurt.  I remember thinking, perhaps naively, let me take this pain from her. 

3 thoughts on grief

Four years ago I was learning what it feels like to wake up in a world without a dad.  I was learning about the deceptive strange ease of the first few days after loss.

Four years ago I wrote that I felt like I was “in a master class on grief”.  I read those words now with a fair amount of pity for ‘past me’Oh sweet girl. You were in a toddler class on grief.  Fast forward four years, and I still have so much to learn about grief; it’s a slippery animal, always shifting on me.  But I’ve learned a little more than I knew then: