The Answer

The answer isn't more hate. The answer isn't more love. The answer is Jesus. Full-stop. Period. End of story. Only Jesus can put to death hostilities by nailing them to the cross (Eph 2:16). Only Jesus can rectify and redeem all the injustices of the world. Only Jesus can save.

Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6). Jesus is the Savior. Jesus is the answer. He's where I am putting all my hope.

Promoters of Hope

My sister-in-law got us discussing the meaning of hope over Christmas. We were trying to explain the concept to my almost two year-old niece, and failing. Quite frankly, I don't often understand hope myself. But as I've thought over it, and had hope visit my heart a few times lately, I've at least come up with some promoters of hope. While we cannot control our circumstances in this new year, we can control our actions. And I'd argue that we could all do well to take some steps towards hope.

Precepts: My husband posits that hope is not expectation, but faith that God is who He says he is. So as believers in Christ, we have hope when we know what God says about Himself and his actions. We learn those truths in the Bible.

Action step: Consume more of God's Word. Read it. Listen to it. Study it. Sing it. Recite it.

People: Sometimes we need people to hold hope for us. My dad did that during an especially difficult time in my teen years, telling me life would be better when I got through. I didn't believe I'd make it through, but Dad did. He held hope until I could grasp some for myself.

Similarly, my nana believed that I would get married one day. I was way past that when I met my husband, and unfortunately Nana went to be with Jesus before she could meet him either. Her hope lives on in our marriage, however.

My husband constantly holds hope for me. He told me we would get our house when I didn't believe. He looks forward to good things. He reminds me of truth. His very presence embodies hope.

Action step: Find your people and allow them to speak hope into your life. Pay forward the hope you receive by encouraging others.

Probability: Hope needs to be realistic. Hoping that I will win a million dollars is not probable, even if it could realistically happen. If I constantly look towards things that are not likely to happen, I will get disappointed and grow weary in my hope. If, only the other hand, I look for small things, have smart goals, I have a chance of seeing them come to fruition and thereby growing my hope.

Action step: Instead of new year's resolutions, why not make a list of small, achievable goals?

Possibility: Hope grows when its outcome is not only probable, but when I see signs that I am moving towards it. I started feeling more hopeful about this new year when some good things came my way last week. That doesn't mean the year will be good, but reminded me to look for good. 

Action step: Track progress towards your goals using a list, phone note, or even a vision board.

We can all use some more hope, can't we? And I believe we can all become promoters of hope. The above action steps are just the starting place. So go out, hope, be hoped for, and spread hope in 2021!

Going to the Word

It's been a dark season. I'm not sure it's over yet. But over the past few days, I've been pushed more towards the Word, drawn to it even. Here are a few recent reflections--

Regarding burdens:

Very recently I had an evening of almost oppressive sorrow: my own grief over unmet expectations, lost opportunities, etc.; grief for the loss of loved ones; grief over hardship for loved ones. The verse playing through my mind was, "Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" (Galatians 6:2, New International Version). 

But Lord, I said. Who will carry my burdens? I am carrying so much. I have no one. (Or at least that's the way it felt.)

But the verse kept weighing on my heart. So I started praying, Lord, will you bear my burdens? God, I need you to bear my burdens.

And then the Spirit drove me to study burdens in the Word. These are the verses of reassurance that I found:

Psalm 54:4
Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me.

Psalm 55:22
Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.

Psalm 68:19
Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.

Isaiah 46:4
Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

Matthew 11:28
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

1 Peter 5:7
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you

No confident pie-in-the-sky hope here. Just quiet reassurance rest in the ONLY one who can bear my burdens perfectly. Praise the Lord!

Regarding the hard:

And last night, I felt empty, needy, so I pulled down my Romans journal and read chapter eight. Verse 28 jumped off the page.

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."

(English Standard Version, ESV)

All things. Not just some. God works all things together for good. Not necessarily for my personal local good, but for  global, holistic, God-defined good. All things. Even the hard now. Even the past that was hard. Even the hard that may come. All things.

I'm not sure my hard, the world's hard is over. I really think it's not. But God. But God's Word. It still stands. It stands the test of time even. 

I need daily sustenance. God is giving me His Word as daily bread. I am a fool not to receive it. May I ever go to the Word and never forsake it, even in hard. Especially in the hard.

Dear 2020

Dear 2020,

You have not been the year we'd dreamed you'd be. And you're not over yet. I didn't expect your year to be easy, but I had vision, goals. After all, 2020 is perfect vision, right? So far, it seems you have been anything but.

My word for 2020 was faithful. The end of 2019 was challenging and I felt unprepared for all 2020 would throw at me (even before COVID). I wanted to be faithful in what was set before me, though. Faithful to God. Faithful to my husband. Faithful in my work. Faithful to challenge myself and have some adventures. Well, let's just say 2020, you have been giving me a run for my money.

This year has been one of the hardest years of my faith yet. Maybe it is because I am finally feeling my feelings instead of dissociating from them. Maybe it is because I have been separated from people who helped keep my faith on track. I don't know. It's just been hard. I've felt so guilty for my selfishness. I've wondered if my seeming inability to get over my selfishness means I am not saved or incapable of being saved. I have had many dark days and nights. I have struggled with hopelessness. I try to keep up with spiritual disciplines like prayer and Bible reading, but even those sometimes seem empty. Faith full? I'd say not. Faithful, as in walking with what I believe? Maybe in action, but often not in words to myself or my emotions.

I knew marriage would be hard, but boy is it! Not because I married a hard person, but because I am a hard person. Marriage constantly exposes my selfishness. I find myself angry at or with the man I love far too often to count. I don't approach marriage as team. I try to go it alone too much of the time, and then get ridiculously needy. Have I been faithful to my husband? Yes. He feels like family now more than ever! Have I been faithful to my marriage, committed to improving it? In some ways yes. In some ways, no. I definitely don't get an A grade.

Work, well, it's always been hard, but this round especially. Balancing marriage and work has been more than I bargained for (still on my side, not my husband's). I wanted to be faithful, though, to put in my time and hours well, and leave the rest up to the Lord. Then came COVID and move to online work. I am still working, but faithfully? Most days are a struggle and I pray for strength to get through.

Adventures, oh adventures. I signed up for two big races (to me!) this year and was more aggressively training than ever before. Then one and both got cancelled. I quit running for a month. I haven't quite picked back up where I left off. To be honest, my body continues to show signs of stress and strain and I don't want running to add to it. I miss the races and tangible goals, though. Maybe someday. Whether I am being faithful to adventures and faithful to my body and its needs is up for debate.

Perfect vision? Nah. 2020 hasn't been a year for that, at least according to my vision. It has been a year for seeing myself and my sin more clearly. It has been a year of realizing more and more how much I need Jesus and salvation. Have I been faithful? No, well not as much as I wanted to be, could be, or should be. But this year is showing me how much I need faith, and need to be full of faith. And if that's what life is all about, maybe 2020 is a year that will help me see more clearly after all. 

*This post was inspired by Debra Fileta's August 28th Instagram post.

When My Heart Doesn't Believe

Do I admit that I've felt hopeless? Do I confess that my heart is not in what I preach right now?  I normally don't write when I'm in the middle, when I have no resolution to a situation, but here I am, feeling compelled to write....now. Why? I don't know. Maybe someone else feels the same as I do.

I feel hopeless. In my head, I know that God exists, that the Bible's promises are true, that God can do anything. I don't feel it it my heart, though. I feel dead, numb, sad, sorrowful, pained. The waves of emotion vary day by day, but they beat the shore of my life with the same dull message: "It's impossible." It's impossible that the stress will end. It's impossible that life will get better. It's impossible that my health will improve. It's impossible that I will overcome my selfish habits and be a better wife. It's impossible that we will have the type of marriage I want. The list goes on and on. The roar is deafening. And amidst the roar, I still hear more: the emptiness of God's promises when I recite them to family, friends, coworkers, and clients; the messages of guilt. The cacophony is intense.

Even with all this, another message has been tapping against my heart lately, squeezing in between the larger waves and gently lapping at my shores: "Hope that is seen is no hope at all" (Romans 8:24, New International Version [NIV]). "Hope that is seen is no hope at all." What is hope? Waiting for something to happen? Expectation? A heart thing? Or is it a head thing? Is it faith, even against all odds? I'm starting to lean towards that last one.

I see nothing at times. I feel nothing at times. I believe only because my belief is all I have left. If God does not exist and His promises are not true, I am of all people the most miserable (1 Corinthians 15:19, King James Version [KJV]). I truly have nothing to live for. But if hope is not hope until it is in the unseen, maybe I am on the right track. Maybe the hope I thought I had in the past truly was not hope. It was in tangible things, things I could see. Now those are not there. All I can do is hope the unseen, have faith that God can do the impossible. It's all I can do. All I can wrap my head around. Maybe my heart will follow in due time.

And Then There's the Rainbow.

As I look at the April calendar and cross off each day, I note the dearth of activities. The events I've crossed out. The mind-numbing way the days have run together. And then I see the photo above the days. The rainbow over the canyon. The sign of God's promise. A sign of lessons learned. A sign of waiting. A sign of hope that there is a better tomorrow. 

The days of waiting and struggle aren't over yet, but surely some good is coming from them. There is much less traffic on the way to work. (Yes, I still go to work, because I work in an essential field.) The world is quieter. There is less pollution.

We got invited into a small group at church. Friends have made more of an effort to connect. I've had to recognize again and again how weak I am and how much I need God's grace, and then the grace of others. I've had to ask my husband for a lot more help, and he has gladly given it.

There's nothing really to do on weekends, so I've been resting more. All my races were cancelled or postponed, so I took a break from running. There aren't all the foods I want at the grocery store, so I've been forced to cook more creatively.

I wouldn't (and didn't) choose this time. I have certainly felt a lot of sadness and grief. I may feel a lot more. There are so many cancelled plans already, and maybe more to come. But then there's the rainbow. 

God is still working. God is still teaching. God is still acting. May we look in awe toward Him.

Hopelessness and Hope

“Hopelessness is the doorway to hope.” I’ve read that quote from Paul David Tripp twice in the past 24 hours. At face value, it seems rather harsh. Who wants to promote hopelessness as a way to hope? And yet the quote really resonates with me, both on personal and a professional level.

There was a time in my life when I was very hopeless and literally had no aspirations for the future. I remember doing an art therapy project (remember my post about going to therapy?) where I drew my feelings on a continuum and shaded it. I had literally no hope and all of life seemed blase and lacking in meaning. But that hopelessness was what led my parents to seek help for me, bringing both professionals and lay people into my life to restore my health and hope. It was one of the darkest seasons of my life, but going through that hopelessness helped make me who I am today.

On a professional level, I often wonder if I am making any difference. It’s not my job to tell people what to do, or even to demand that they find hope, but to sit with them at their darkest and support them if and when they want to crawl towards the light. It’s a high and hard calling, and walking in it often hurts. But if hope is the doorway to hopelessness, than maybe what I’m doing does matter. I’m being given the privilege to sit with people at their lowest, but when at their lowest, they are at the cusp of finding hope. How amazing is that?

I don’t really have a conclusion to this post, but maybe rather an encouragement to those reading. If you’re feeling hopeless, maybe you’re almost to hope. (If you are feeling suicidal at all, please reach out for help to the National Suicide Prevention Helpline at 1-800-273-8255.) You’re realizing all the things that don’t work and being able to recognize and reach for what really matters. Ultimately, I pray that you find Jesus and salvation in Him, because He is the only way to freedom from hopelessness and eternal hope forever.

The House That Wasn't

I'd offered on several houses, a lot of houses. Some owners didn't accept my offers. Some houses went to bidding wars. And some houses were sold by time time my realtor and I submitted our paperwork. I'd offered on this house and been declined, too. But then the owners came back. 

"Do you want the house?" They asked through my realtor.

"Well, yes." I replied.

"The other buys were nickel- and dime-ing us," I heard. "So you can have it."

So I started the process. I sent my $1,000 escrow money. I ordered the home inspection. I investigated home warranties and chose one. I went over what the house needed (because it did need some work) and lined up repairmen. We ordered the appraisal. It came back. I made Pinterest boards of what I planned to do with each house and each room. My best friend diagrammed the house and made plans to fly out and help me decorate. I got a roommate. Everything was going swimmingly...until it wasn't. 

On final walk through, mere days before the purchase, my dad crawled under the house one more time "just to make sure" and found water, like lots of water. Monsoon season (aka heavy rains) had just started, and apparently the rain was running under the house instead of around it. I didn't panic just yet, though. I started investigating. But as I investigated, my heart sank. I found out that not only was the runoff an issue, but the whole slope of the land. A repair would mean removing the landscaping in the front and back yards, removing the front and back porches, readjusting the lay of the land, re-landscaping, putting the porches back on, and then fixing the house foundation issues. Oh man!

A real estate investor friend of ours looked at the house and he said he wouldn't buy it if he was me. And he had experience with flipping houses. I was a first time homebuyer, with barely enough money to put for a down payment, and very little time to fix up a house. So I let the house go. I told my roommate, "No."

I was discouraged, distraught, even. I wanted this so bad. And it seemed God had opened all the doors only to slam them in my face. I didn't understand, and perhaps I never fully will.

As the years past that failed home purchase have passed, though, God has in His grace revealed some reasons why that sale didn't go through:

• I needed more time with my family to repair and heal some relationships.
• My job turned out to be way harder and way more time consuming than I expected, and I honestly needed my mom to feed me a lot of nights. Living at home allowed her to do that.
• My mom prayed that I wouldn't move out until I got married. (Thankfully she kept that prayer to herself until I got engaged.)
• My prospective roommate decided to follow the Lord to a different country, and without her help, mortgage payments would have been difficult.
• Living at home allowed me to save more money for a potential future home purchase.
• Not owning a home made it easier to marry and move in with my husband (in that order!) and consider what God had for us versus for me.

God knows what He's doing, friends. Following the Lord is hard, and it often doesn't make sense. But God is good, and His plans work out for our good, even if it does not feel good in the moment, or maybe on this earth. My dream house wasn't. That was hard. But it allowed God to bring to fruition some other dreams, dreams I'd buried or even let go unrecognized. To Him be the glory.

Born to Shine: Book Review

What do you do when you lose what matters most to you in this life? Do you wallow in darkness, or courageously struggle your way out into the light and shine? Ashley LeMieux has done the latter. After losing her two children to a contested adoption, Ashley worked her way through the trauma to become not only a better person, but a leader who encourages others. Born to Shine is her story, a story not only of recovery, but of hope, for if she can suffer as she did and rise, others can, too.

Born to Shine is not your typical story of redemption. Ashley's story doesn't have the happy ending she or anyone else would hope for. She and her husband became permanent guardians of two precious children early in their marriage, and after years of being a family, they decided to adopt them. It was at that point that they became “foster” parents and entered into a tremendously long court battle that ended in the children being taken away with a day's notice, and a day Ashley was away on a work trip to boot. Ashley writes about the pain of that day, but also the pain of wanting her children to eventually contact her, and that, too, having a painful ending. But through it all, Ashley has chosen to shine.

Born to Shine is part memoir, part self-help. Regardless of genre, it was hard to put down. Ashley's words were convicting, but also encouraging. The questions she asks of readers are thought-provoking. The story she weaves is spellbinding. Ashley writes with energy, even in the midst of pain, and the joy she shares is utterly contagious.

When I told my husband I cried while reading this book, he asked what it was about. “It's about a family who lost their children,” I said.

“Why would anyone want to read that?” He asked.

“Because it's a story of redemption,” I replied.

I, as a believer in Christ for salvation, see Christ as the ultimate source of hope. Ashley doesn't quite get there. Rather, she credits an undefined God with being part of the reason for her recovery. Still, I cannot help but wholeheartedly recommend this book. Maybe, just maybe, and hopefully, Ashley will write future books sharing more about her journey.

Ashley and Mike LeMieux lost their children. They lost two little ones they raised and in whom they invested their lives. The LeMieux's did not lose their lives, however. They did not lose their humanity. They have emerged from their darkness humbler, stronger, and more full of light than ever before. Their story is proof of the goodness of humanity and the resilience of the human soul, even in the midst of the darkest night.

*Note: I received an advance copy of Born to Shine as part of the book launch team, but received no compensation for my blog posts or opinions.

--

Want to read? The book releases in paperback form October 8th, and you can pre-order now on Amazon.

And if you want to hear more of Ashley's story, I recommend her Sounds Good podcast episode.

If you want to hear more after that, consider the book launch tour coming to a city near you!

To support Ashley and her work, consider shopping The Shine Project or Ashley's personal fashion selection. (I personally ordered a dress from the later and very much like it!)

I've Been In Your Chair.

I've been in your chair. I've been in that place of darkness and depth and desperation (and sometimes I still find myself there). I've needed insight and help and encouragement and guidance and motivation. And people were there for me.

I've had several kids ask me why I do what I do over the past few years. Quite simply, I've been there. I went through a long period of darkness in my early teen years, and even into college and my early adulthood. (And I'm not saying I don't have dark days now. I do.) But I was in a period of life where I was incredibly self destructive, where I didn't believe anyone loved me, where all I saw was darkness, and I needed help. I needed professional help.

I went to a variety of professionals (both physical and mental practitioners) during that time. Some were helpful. Some were not. But the helpful ones, the counselors who propelled me towards the Lord and towards freedom were the ones that gave me information that made a difference. They were the ones who walked with me through hard times, who didn't tell me it was going to be okay, but who held hope for me that one day my life would be better. And praise the Lord, it is. Some of those people know where I am today. Some don't. But those who knew me then and know me now can testify that I am a different person.

As a counselor, I'm not saying I'm beyond counseling. I've been back to counseling several times since my intensive days, and I'm not against going again. As a Christian, I'm not saying that prayer and accountability and lay person encouragement don't make a difference, either. They do. But sometimes you just need professional help. You need an outside observer, an impartial party, someone you can yell at, and be angry at, and not have to be in an everyday relationship with. Someone who will help you process the hard things. Someone who can give you insight and perspective and guidance. Some days, I'm honored to be in that chair.

I've been in your chair. That's how I got to my chair. By God's grace, I'm a counselor. And if I'm your counselor, I'm honored to hold hope for you, because others once held hope for me. And by the Holy Spirit's power, I'll keep holding hope for you, and for a better world until Christ returns and makes all things new.

Flip The Script

Prepare for the worst

Hope for the best

Won't you steady my heart

For whatever comes next?

~King and Country, "Need You More"

I generally consider myself an optimist, a person who looks at the bright side of things, a person who sees the glass as half full, who always holds hope. I've been convicted lately, however, that I might not be as optimistic as I think. When times are good, I'm wondering when they'll be bad. When relationships are healthy, I'm afraid to give thanks, for fear that this will lead to a prideful fall and rupture. When I have ample financial resources, I act as a miser, for fear that one day the money won't be there. When I have time off work, I let myself get overwhelmed with home details, or fear of going back to work. When days are sunny, I wonder when the rain will come. I find that I have a tendency to label life as hard, instead of seeing it as good. In so doing, I miss the joy of the moment, and I can end up sabotaging myself.

Now that I've realized what I'm doing, I'm trying, by the Holy Spirit's power, to view life as more of a privilege than a struggle. I'm trying to be present in the now instead of looking so muhc into the future. I'm trying to give thanks instead of worrying. Life is good. God has blessed me. Sure, there are hard parts of living, but that's not the substance of life. There is so much worth celebrating. So many good things worth recognizing and further pouring into.

Let's flip the script, shall we? Instead of looking for dysfunction, let's look for function. Instead of living with foreboding joy* about the future, let's celebrate the now. Let's rejoice and give thanks, for when we have God, we always have good.

*Credit for this term goes to Brene Brown and her books.

Suicide.

Let's just go there. I've been there (or at least to the ideation stage). Now someone I love is there, with intent and a plan. And far too many other people have been there, and lost there lives there.

What brings people to suicide? Desperation. Despair. Hopelessness. Depression. That last one is where I want to focus. If you're depressed, GET HELP!

I expressed some pretty severe depression in my teenage years. I felt completely hopeless, as if life didn't have a purpose, as if there was no reason to live. I didn't have a plan to commit suicide, but I didn't have a reason to go on living, either.

In my case, I was under 18. My parents (without my permission or cooperation) got me help. They took me to doctors and put me on medication and introduced me to therapy (the profession I now pursue). The drugs retrained my brain chemicals to function properly. The therapy taught me life skills. It took a long time and a lot of pain, but I got better. I learned that suicide is not an out, not an answer. 

Suicide doesn't yield the life the person wants, and it makes life miserable for everyone else. And let's just be a little gruesome here: No matter what path a person chooses for suicide, there is always cleanup. Always. And that's a terrible job to have to do.

So back to the depression piece. Are you depressed? It's serious! Get help before things deteriorate to where you can't go on living. See your doctor. (Maybe your depression is as simple as a hormone or nutritional imbalance. But maybe it's not.) Call on a friend. Ask your pastor for prayer. Go to counseling. Learn life skills.

Already suicidal? GET HELP! Call the suicide hotline (1-800-273-8255). Go to the ER. Tell a friend your struggles. It can get better. It will get better. But you have to reach out.

Romans 5:3-5 says, "Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." Depression is suffering. Medication often leads to physical discomfort. Therapy involves struggle. But all of these yield perseverance, and character, and HOPE! Hope is the antithesis to suicide, a reason to go on living.

Find hope today, my friend. Reach out. GET HELP! Your life is worth it.