WAITING FOR TWO (Part 2)

Leah Combs

Last week you read about how the Lord altered Leah’s adoption dreams into an opportunity to love locally. Find out how God continued to weave together the lives of broken people into a beautiful masterpiece!

Baby Caleb
After adopting Judah in November of 2015 and knowing his brother would not be joining us, we responded to a need in March of 2016. A white newborn baby, I will call him Caleb, was born to a mom addicted to heroine. The baby had traces of heroine in his system and was needing a home. Like before, we told the workers involved that we would happily take this child, but if there was another family that was looking for a white, newborn baby boy we would happily take 2nd in line. There was no one in Collin County that wanted Caleb, so we joyfully visited him in the hospital until we could bring him home. Our children were overjoyed at having Caleb in our home. It’s incredibly easy to love a snuggly, newborn baby that is helpless without you. We all fell in love with him and didn’t expect that someday he would forever be an extension of our family.

Caleb’s birth mom had a rough past and it was very clear from a quick glance on county jail records and Facebook, that she was going to need to overcome many odds in order to get her son back. I knew, though, after the first few months of weekly visits, that she wasn’t going to give up. She wanted her son back and she was out to do it. During those visits, I would leave handwritten notes to mom, updating her on Caleb’s doctor appointments and progress. Then I established a gmail account to send pictures and notes by email to his birth mom. On Mothers Day, in May of 2016, Caleb and I went to meet his mom for a supervised visit. To be honest, I was pretty nervous. I just kept going back to “What do she and I have in common?” We both loved this child. This child that God entrusted to her from the beginning, yet I was caring for most of 24-hrs of the day. Caleb’s mom greeted me with flowers to wish me a “Happy Mothers Day,” and as we sat and talked for the next hour, many previous nerves and fears were erased. That first visit we started a relationship that depended on each of us putting aside our pride, relying on one another to raise this child, and humbly walking this journey of parenting – this gift of life.

From that day forward, I made every effort to encourage her in her positive progress, pray for her, and become her cheerleader. She wasn’t going to be able to do this alone, and this was only the beginning on her road to recovery. Caleb gradually began spending more time with his birth mom and towards the end was spending 24-48hrs in her care under supervision by trusted family and the amazing CASA worker assigned to the case. She had taken all the classes and steps to graduate from Collin County Courts’ drug program, had found safe housing that kept her accountable for her actions, and, alongside a very supportive uncle, had bought a safe vehicle for her and Caleb.

In October of 2016, with tears of sadness and joy, we gave Caleb permanently back to his mother. The beauty of God’s love is interlaced in every bit of this story. The Lord loved Caleb and his mom by taking them through a very tough time, but finally brought them back together. I had also been reminded that God’s love was greater than my own, and was set free from thinking and believing that I was the best mom for this child – that only I could care for him. In a different way, God was revealing to me AGAIN that I was not in control.

 

In the past year, since his removal, Caleb is still with his mom. She has started back in college classes, has a full-time job which she loves, and still includes us in text messages and picture updates. We happily provide respite for her when she calls us for help, and still remember both of them in our prayers at the dinner table. Our children don’t reflect back on his time with us or his removal in sadness. We have walked with them through this entire journey and have seen so much growth in their character and trust in the Lord.

 

The Sibling Group
After Caleb left our home in October, we prayed about taking a break from foster care, but we never had peace in knowing that there were children in need of a safe home. We made our regular phone call down to Galveston to learn that Judah’s mom and brother were still doing visits, although irregular, but that Mekhi was doing well in the foster home. Again, we told them of our interest and that we were here if anything changed.

 

The next month, we got a call from our agency about a sibling group of three, two of which (a 4 year-old boy and a 2 year-old boy) still needed a home. We weren’t open to taking both of them because a second 2 year-old and a grand total of 6 kids would be rough. However, we offered to take one if it would be helpful. Soon after that call they asked if we would take just the 4 yearr old boy. They had found homes for each child separately and would work to establish a home for all three in the future. I was thinking, “Sure, we have 4T hand-me-down clothes and a safe car seat. We should be set.”

When this boy, we will call him Billy, walked in our home I thought, “There is NO WAY that boy is a 4T.” Billy and his siblings all had the same mom, in her early 20s, but each had different dads. Billy came into our home like a freight train. I’m not joking. He was 80 lbs, still wore diapers, still took a bottle before bedtime, and socially was at a 2 year-old level. The trainings from our agency didn’t and couldn’t prepare me for this child. Each day he was in our home I went to bed completely and emotionally exhausted. I was quickly seeing the effects on my kids and, along with them, was battling to love this child. I distinctly remember our oldest child, Lyla, crying and commenting on how she can’t love him if she doesn’t even like him. Our son, Luke, was taking a personal hit because Billy seemed to target him for pushing, hitting, shoving, and stealing toys. Rusty and I were often having hard heart-to-heart conversations with our biological children. We saw their struggles, could relate to them, and worked them out together in prayer. In what seemed like the trenches, the Lord grew and strengthened our family during the time that Billy was in our home. It had always been easy to love the babies that had come into our lives, but we were learning and living out sacrificial love. The love which Jesus calls us to do. By my kitchen sink I remember sobbing while reading God’s gentle reminder from 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 stating, “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. So then, I will boast most gladly about my weaknesses so that the power of Christ may reside in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses for the sake of Christ, for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

 

Just after a week of being in our home I found out that his 6 year-old sister, we will call Valerie, was struggling in her foster home without her siblings to care for. She was crying all day at school, crying when she got home, and would refuse to eat or play. She was genuinely worried that her siblings weren’t in a safe place and she (and likely her birth mom) had put herself in the primary caretaker role. I shared the situation with Rusty and we agreed to ask CPS if she could come into our home. It was a risk, but one that we were willing to take. They placed Valerie in our home and she instantly clicked with us. We got her enrolled in school, had Thanksgiving break, and just after being in school for one week she was moved to her birth father’s home in McKinney. She hated to leave Billy, but she adjusted quickly to her new home and is currently still with her father. We had been told her stay with us would be short-lived, but we didn’t think it would just be three weeks.

 

When she left, I felt the need to reach out to Judah’s birth mom by email. I had created a new account to send pics after we adopted Judah, and I let her know that we were aware of her situation. In my heart I was thinking, “I would want my kids to be together if possible.” After our relationship began to develop, I let her know that we would love to take Mekhi so that the brothers could be together. We were willing to keep an “open” relationship if she would allow him in our home. Her first response was defensive, but 12 hours later she wrote back stating that she had changed her mind and that she would love for the boys to be together FOREVER. We were shocked, but she confirmed her intentions as we emailed the next steps to be taken. We continued to pursue the situation in Galveston, but knew it wasn’t going to be easy since he was in his foster home for over a year now.

Back at home, Billy was slowly improving and adjusting as he spent Christmas with our family and was showered with gifts from the community and family. We were encouraged when he began to talk about the stories he was hearing from church and in our home during bible story time. When he came in our home he knew nothing of the Bible, Jesus, or even the name of God. Neither he, nor his sister, had heard of or celebrated Thanksgiving. It was evident that their lives had been in turmoil for awhile and that even in their beds, they weren’t able to seek rest or refuge. Both Billy and our children were learning to love one another and God was bringing healing to this child’s wounds. Right after Christmas, we received a call asking to take Billy’s 2 year old brother, likely for the long haul. Something I have failed to mention until this point is that currently in the state of Texas you cannot be a licensed foster home with more than 6 kids. This number includes all children in the home. So at this moment in our foster journey we had 5 kiddos in our home and were being asked to take a sixth. If we filled this sixth spot with Billy’s brother, it was unlikely that we would ever get Judah’s brother. It was a spot we had never hoped to be in. We never intended or wanted to send a child away from our home, only to continue care in another foster home. The decision was hard, but we chose to pursue our efforts in bringing Mekhi into our home. Billy and his brother were placed in another foster home with each other and are currently still together, on track to be adopted by a family that will allow all the siblings frequent visits and a future together.

 

Bringing Home Mekhi

We now had a laser focus on bringing Mekhi in our home and hoped it would be seamless since we had the biological brother and now had the birth mom on our side. Well, nothing is that simple in foster care, and I’m here to say we are more patient for it. The foster home Mekhi had been with for over a year now had standing in court. They were hopeful in adopting Mekhi if mom ever “flaked out,” and although we had frequent contact with CPS in Galveston, the foster family claimed that they never knew of our intentions. To make the story short, CPS dropped the ball on both sides of it. I have a lot of respect for the people that serve the children in care. It is a thankless job, you are underpaid, overworked, and there aren’t many people who love to see you come to their door. We were upset that the foster family in Galveston was led to believe that adoption was even possible, yet we empathized with them because we would also feel very hurt and scared if we were in their same situation. Fourteen months is a long time for a foster family to have a child in their home and to grow attached. In response, the foster family in Galveston had hired an attorney and was ready to battle us in court over Mekhi.

 

This past February we drove down to Galveston to state our case in hopes the judge would move Mekhi into our home. The first 30 minutes of the hearing involved our feisty attorney, and sister-in-law, making a statement that we should “have standing” in the case. The judge wasn’t going to just allow us to be a part of this case because we showed up. We had to have evidence, which came from the family law, that we had the right to be a part of this case. Fortunately, the judge granted us standing and over the next 3.5 hrs we heard from several parties involved. In summation, there were six attorneys (all caseworkers and state reps for Mekhi), the foster family from Galveston, the birth parents (present, although an hour late) that I had never seen in-person or met, court officials, and Rusty and me. About 50% of the workers representing Mekhi were on our side, the other 50% on the side of the family from Galveston. We genuinely did not know how the verdict would fall, but in the end the judge asked both foster families to agree to 3-4 supervised playdates halfway between Dallas and Galveston over the next couple of months. I felt a little defeated, but thankful that we weren’t cut out of the case completely. During the car ride home we were pretty amped-up and exhausted all at the same time. Our intentions had turned into action, while our prayers of unification for the boys felt very much within reach; yet we had to prepare for the reality that it could still take a long time.

 

A few days later on February 6, after the weekend had passed and we began another Monday, I received a phone call from our attorney. I wept as she told me that the foster family from Galveston no longer wanted to proceed with the case and that they wanted Mekhi and Judah to be together forever. Talk about a glorious and monumental day. I couldn’t believe it. The anxiety, emotional struggles, tears of frustration, middle of the night wake up calls from the Lord to pray – all the yearning of having this child in our home was about to become a reality. It is not lost on me that our joy was possible due to a very difficult sacrificial decision on the part of the other foster family – a family that loved Mekhi very well and had done nothing wrong. Exactly one week later, Mekhi was transported by CPS and dropped off at our home. At 21 months old, he came into our home very much confused, angry, and sad. To top it off, he had contracted a stomach bug 24-hrs before coming into our home and was battling fever and diarrhea in his new surroundings without any familiar faces from his past.

In the days to come it was surreal to see the brothers together. Neither had the words to express their feelings for one another but their actions communicated that they somehow knew they belonged together. I feel that parenting them is very much like parenting twins. They are pretty much inseparable – they love and fight like biological brothers and share some of the sweetest laughs while taking a bath, jamming out to music at our frequent in-home dance parties and swinging on their bellies in the backyard.

 

On November 18, Mekhi officially became our son. There is no comparable feeling when you adopt a child from the foster system and realize that “it’s finalized.” There is relief like that of a huge burden being lifted. Oxygen is more easily inhaled and you feel a sense of freedom to love and parent this child as your own.

 

Even as we approached adoption, the Lord was working on our story. While we were seeking wisdom through prayer on opening up our home again to more children, God answered our prayers in an unexpected way by giving us our 4th biological child. Did your jaw just drop? Probably not as much as mine as I read that very positive pregnancy test. We are so grateful for the privilege to carry another child and are excited for the new baby’s arrival in April of 2018.

 

Now 3.5 years from the start of our foster journey, we would confidently tell you that we have forever been changed by our experience. Some parts were easy, but the majority was not. A lot of people comment about how much we have blessed these children, but we feel the complete opposite. We feel like they have blessed us. They forced us to face the unknown, to love sacrificially, to continually fight for our marriage and our family, to grow deeper with the Lord, to live each day as it’s the last, to appreciate our comfortable and stable upbringing, to disciple our children through some very mature struggles, to sacrifice our time for the needs of others, and ultimately to find our constant joy in the Lord.

The most common question that we hear is “How do you give them back? I could never do that.” We were there, friends. We said the same thing. Yet God held our hands and showed us that we couldn’t do it alone and that we were never asked to. As believers we have the Holy Spirit as our guide, and the Heavenly Father as our comfort. With that, we had what we needed before our journey ever began. We have a hope that this world is not our comfort, nor can it ever come from a child coming into our home. A hope that assures us that our biggest earthly struggle is nothing in comparison to the love that Christ has for us. A huge thing I learned from foster care is that no child is mine. They all belong to the Lord. And just like that of a life that may be cut short, whether in miscarriage or a young death, we have just a season to love them, hold them, and disciple them for that moment in time.

It’s not easy to give a child back, and there are many heartbreaking stories of loss in the foster system, but I want you to hear more than those stories. If you don’t take a chance on the risk of accepting and loving these children, who will? My husband and I strongly believe that it is the church’s responsibility to take children from these broken homes and give them hope. Even if its momentary, hope, love, and stability is the desire from all of these children. Don’t let fears control your actions if you are feeling called to serve these foster kids. Take one step of faith at a time. We accomplished our dream of adopting a sibling group, but we could not have orchestrated it any more beautiful than what the Lord has done.

“The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.” Psalm 126:3

 

LIGHT

Perhaps you’re a bit like me the day after Christmas. There’s always a bit of bittersweetness as I recognize that all the lovely lights and garland, the glittering balls and the shimmering tree, are all soon to come down. I just love how my home looks at Christmas time – it’s warm, it’s cozy, it’s all aglow. One of my happy places is to just sit in my comfy chair across from my tree with a cup  of coffee early in the morning before anyone else is awake. If I could (or should I say if my husband would let me), I would leave up our decorations through at least mid-February. But, alas, come the first(-ish) week of January, I solemnly begin to box it all up – into the attic it goes, without another thought until the day after Thanksgiving. Sadly, I think so many of us experience the Light of Christ in our lives in a very similar way. We light our Jesus candle every Sunday, or perhaps a couple times a month, or maybe even just a couple times a year; then we blow it out and stick it in a box and forget about it until the next time comes around where we need to take it out and light it again.

But the Light of Christ was never meant to be a mere flicker in our lives. He came to light up our darkness. Light plays a significant and symbolic role throughout Scripture. It was the first of God’s creation, “Let there be light!” (Genesis 1:3) The Lord appeared to both Abraham and Moses as a burning flame of Light. His Light guided the Israelites through the wilderness and set ablaze Mount Sinai when the Law was given. Jesus was prophesied to be the Light that would shine on the people walking in darkness, in the shadow of death (Isaiah 9:1, Matthew 4:16, John 1:4-9).

Jesus Himself said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) When we follow Jesus, we live lives walking in the Light. It seems implied then, that when we are not following Jesus and His example – His obedience to the Father, His ability to love others and extend mercy and grace, His desire to glorify the Father – then we are not walking in the Light. John writes in 1 John 1:5-7, “This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”

Walking in the Light not only allows us to have fellowship with God and His Son, but enables us to have true fellowship with each other. When we walk in the Light it should radiate out of us, people should be able to see a difference in how we live our lives. Jesus said in Matthew 5:14-16, “You are the light of the world. A city situated on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket, but rather on a lampstand, and it gives light for all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

Our Light should not be hidden, nor should it be neglected. The menorah, or lampstand, that the Israelites were commanded to construct was tended to by the Levite priests daily to ensure that it was lit before the Holy of Holies. Only the purest olive oil was used to kindle the lamps, which was part of the daily purification of the Tabernacle, and later the Temple. Tending to our Light takes daily discipline – refilling the oil reservoirs of our souls with the anointed oil of God’s Word and trimming back the wick on the burned off, dead areas of our lives that hinder us from enjoying full, uninhibited fellowship with God. In Matthew 25:1-10, Jesus gives a strong warning of what can happen if we become foolishly neglectful of tending to the Light we have been given:

“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.
“At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’
“Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’
“‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’
“But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.”

As we are here, waiting for His Return, Christ desires that we live in His Light – walking in His ways and feeding our souls daily with the true Light from His Word. When we do, we are precursing the days when He will be our constant Light. I pray that this year you will cherish the Light. Let it linger. Let it burn. Let it shine so brightly in your life that it draws others to the the Light you have received so that they might receive it also.

“The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it.” Revelation 21:23-24

 

Jenni Norsworthy

WAITING FOR TWO (Part 1)

Leah Combs

Part 1

My husband Rusty and I only dated and were engaged for 8 months, but in that time we both had in our hearts that adoption was something the Lord had called us to do. Initially, we had thought that Africa would be the place that would provide the pitter-patter of little feet, yet God had His own way of shepherding us to His calling to serve locally through the foster system.

 

Have you ever had someone ask, “So, do you think this will be the last child?” after JUST delivering a new baby? Rapidly those questions were fired off to us after delivering our third child, and we thought it appropriate timing to look into our “overseas adoption” dreams. Anyone that has adopted internationally knows that the process is long and tedious, therefore we started looking for compatible agencies and countries while our youngest was turning one. After many dead ends, a non-existent savings account, and no good option for us to leave our 3 biological children in the US while we traveled for 4-6 weeks to Africa, Rusty gently stated his opinion. I say “gently” because he knew that I was the one toiling over websites, contacting agencies and putting in some solid hours of research. He said, “What if we answer this calling, but do it locally?” My horns went up and my “talk to the hand” face gave away my true feelings on this option. I didn’t want a “broken child” with all their drama and their baby-mama’s drama. I wanted to have the story of bringing home a child all the way from Africa and showing that sweet child off like a trophy. (As you can see, I have some pride and people-pleasin’ issues; sinful temptations that I have to lay down at the feet of Jesus often.)

 

A few weeks passed and I fought the Lord with this idea of adopting locally. My perfect overseas adoption story was changing and, although I like change, this plan was set in my heart for many many years and I felt it impossible to give up. In November of 2013, I agreed to “consider” the idea of adopting locally through the foster system and appeared at a local seminar with my husband to learn more about our options. I will never forget that day. As we watched a foster care video, I felt the Spirit moving within me. I was that woman trying to hold back the loud, ugly crying, but was very unsuccessful. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I couldn’t wait to get started. This was the first of many times the Lord would humble me in our journey, which would last another 4 years. I left the seminar feeling ashamed of my prideful behavior, broken by the real life stories told by children who have been in care, and driven to make an impact by adopting a local child that needed a home.

 

In December, we attended the “Introduction” meeting of a local agency and over the next 6 months we would complete our trainings to be an adoptive home through the foster system. In these days of waiting and taking classes, I was overwhelmed with sorrow. Sorrow that our future children were possibly experiencing neglect, abuse, and harm. Sorrow that I felt useless in helping them. During this time, I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling heavily burdened, beat down, defenseless and defeated. I was driven to my knees, pleading to the Lord to save these children from the devil and his destruction. My human hands could do nothing to help these babies, but I clung to the hope that my Savior would care for them. Psalm 56:3, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

Licensed in June of 2014, we waited for our first call which unexpectedly came from a friend in just 2 weeks. This friend who was just licensed to be a foster home and had just received an emergency placement out of Dallas, called and asked if we would consider a newborn with drug exposure that was left in the NICU of Plano Presbyterian. Since being licensed she had received 3 calls in 48hrs of newborns needing a home. Shaking while holding the phone and asking the basic questions, I didn’t really hesitate in my answer of, “YES.” In a matter of 2 weeks, we went from third on the list, to getting the call that said, “The last family really wanted a girl. Could you come pick him up tomorrow from the hospital?” Because this child was strictly a foster case, our agency worked overtime in about 24 hrs to get our license changed from an adoptive home to a foster/adoptive home. We scrambled to get the necessities, called in our support troops of family and friends to pray, and brought home our first placement on July 23, 2015.

If you remember from above, we weren’t even wanting to be a foster home, but God used this child as a way for us to open our hearts to fostering. When it came down to it, I could NOT say no to a child who had been left in the NICU. We even told Child Protective Services (CPS) and our Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) that if there were homes that were looking for a newborn placement in Collin County, please seek them out first. We had 3 kiddos at home and honestly did not expect a newborn to even be available. God clearly wanted this child to be in our home and He presented this evidence in so many ways upon him reaching our arms. CPS had told us that the parents had already lost their rights to other children in another state, so this case would likely move towards adoption. Upon hearing those words, we decided to rename this sweet baby boy. As we tossed around names within the first hour of having this child, we kept coming back to names that began with “J.” Our second birth child was almost named Jude, so after saying that name out loud again, my mother-in-law mentioned, “What about Judah?” It sounded right, but we agreed we needed to look up the meaning and its roots. The Lord brought us to tears when we read that, in the Bible, Judah was Leah’s fourth son and meant “Praise. The Praised One.” Decision made. We would call him Judah, and over the next 17 months we would love him like our own until the day he officially became ours on National Adoption Day in November of 2015.

Judah’s Brother
Until we had officially adopted Judah, we kept our home “closed” as we adjusted and became a stable family of six. In that time period our world was shaken by the news that just 11 months after Judah was born, his birth parents had another baby boy, Mekhi, in May 2015. I remember driving as a family to Missouri when I saw pics of the birth dad and Mekhi on Facebook. I quickly reached out to our CPS worker to inform her of this child and immediately started praying for his well-being. Investigations were made and verdicts established that Mekhi was doing well in his parents care. Much like I had done while waiting for our first placement, I had to rely on the Creator of this child for his protection. He loved this child first, knew the hairs on his head, and would provide for his needs.

Coming into foster care and having 3 children, I would say that I had a “Type A” personality. This whole “foster-care instability and relying solely on the Lord” lifestyle was breaking down the walls of control that a “Type A” demands. In order to be sane and find joy in each day, I was having to give my worries and anxiety to the Lord each and every day. I would find myself singing “Do NOT be anxious about ANYTHING but in EVERYTHING by prayer and petition with THANKSGIVING present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6) This always helped my son, Luke, battle his 4-year-old fears at bedtime, but the words were bringing unfathomable truth in my 30-yr old life.

For about 6 months, the waters were calm until about Thanksgiving when I read the birth-mom’s Facebook profile. Her husband (yes, they are married), Judah’s birth dad and now the father of a 6-month-old son, had tried to physically hurt her while holding Mekhi. Her life was in danger, therefore she called police. Police arrested the husband and took him to jail where he would stay for about 8 months. Next I was reading that the birth mom was buying a bus ticket to Galveston to stay with distant relatives. In the meantime, I was reaching out to all of Judah’s workers; the CASA worker, attorney, and CPS caseworker. It was too late. Once she left Collin County, all we could do is ask the officials in Galveston County to find her whereabouts. At this point we were told there was not much hope in finding her and the baby. Our CPS worker from Collin County told us she would be in touch if she heard anything.

About a week later, we were notified that officials in Galveston found the birth mom and baby. Both tested positive for drugs and the child was being placed with a foster family in Galveston. We got the number of the CPS official in Galveston and pleaded with them to transfer him up to North Texas to be with his brother. They wouldn’t do it, nor were they too interested in doing it anytime soon. We respected the rights of the birth mom and her desire to have visits with her son, so we stepped back and allowed Judah’s full-biological brother to be in the care of another foster home in Galveston County. In the meantime, we filled out some legal documents stating our interests in the child and would make regular check ups with the CPS worker in Galveston to check on mom/baby’s status. While we grieved that Mekhi was unable to join our family in that season, the Lord was showing us His faithfulness and provision through our foster care journey.

Come back next week to see how God continued to write this family’s story!

LOVE

“As the Father has loved me, I have also loved you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commands you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love.

“I have told you these things so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.

“This is my command: Love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this: to lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants anymore, because a servant doesn’t know what his master is doing. I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me, but I chose you. I appointed you to go and produce fruit and that your fruit should remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give you.

“This is what I command you: Love one another.”

John 15:9-17

 

These words were some of the last of Jesus’ teachings while He was here on earth. He was at The Last Supper, just hours away from His betrayal and death, speaking to His closest friends, His faithful disciples. What was He desperate for them to understand before He left? Love.

The progression in this text shows us, from start to finish, what love looks like. Jesus says His love for us comes out of the love He freely accepts from His Father. The way He keeps Himself in that fully loved position is to keep His Father’s commands. He tells us that we can follow His example and “live loved” by keeping His commands as well.

It’s always beneficial to look for the reason behind commands, and the reason here is crystal clear: “so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.” His desire is for us to be completely satisfied. Deeply content. Doesn’t that sound exactly like what we all want for ourselves?

So what are the commands that we are to keep in order to find this soul satisfaction? That’s gotta be a long list. A daunting mountain of do’s and don’ts. An unattainable ideal, full of caveats.

Nope. Just one command: Love one another.

It’s simple, but I bet you’ve lived long enough to know that it’s not easy. There is probably someone in your life who isn’t the easiest to love. Whether they refuse to love you back, have hurt you beyond belief, or just kind of rub you the wrong way, some people are just hard to love! But Jesus is telling us that we can lean into the love we have from Him, and find an unlimited source of love for others right there.

He tells His disciples that the greatest love a person can have is to lay down their life for his friends. Remember, He’s saying these words to His friends just hours before His own death on their behalf. So when we think about loving that person that is just hard to love, we can remember the extreme love Jesus has for us, and how He showed us by laying His life down on the Cross. That rough relationship can be an opportunity to get a small taste of laying down your life for a friend. Lay down your pride. Lay down your entitlement. Lay down your busy schedule. Lay down your comfort. When you’re living loved by Jesus, you can lay down your life for others, and that’s where joy is found.

If it seems impossible in your situation, you’re not alone! Even Jesus asked for a way out. I think that’s why He added “whatever you ask the Father in my name, he will give you.” We need help! It’s not natural to love others more than ourselves. But Jesus delights in giving us exactly what we ask for when we’re asking in order to follow Him more closely.

So, yes, this command to love others is simple. And it can even be easy when we ask Him for help. It’s a love this world does not understand. A love that will soften hearts and change the world. We’re invited to bring that love on His behalf to our little corner of the world every day.

Amanda Buccola

LOVE CAME DOWN AND SET ME FREE

Abbie Kampman

Hi friends. Many of you may have already tuned in to my interview with Jamie Ivey (episode #168 on The Happy Hour podcast). If you haven’t listened, feel free to do so for further background on my story and the transformational journey God has taken me on.


This summer, I set out on a journey to bring redemption from destruction.

 

Each June, I go through a tub of old newspaper articles. This bin is deemed my “Crash Box” and contains every article written about the horrific drunk driving accident that took the lives of my mother, my two sisters, my mother’s boyfriend, and one man in another vehicle. My mother and Todd, her boyfriend, were drunk. They were at fault. I don’t know if I’ve ever fully read the articles; I’ve infrequently skimmed them, then shoved the pile back into the box, too overwhelmed to really absorb the words. I’ve done this over and over for the past 18 years. Open, skim, shove, pack away again. It’s almost as though opening that box is my pandora – I don’t want to allow the onslaught of emotions to hit me. But this time I was having a particularly difficult week and came across the box in the basement. I pulled it down from the storage shelf, pried off the lid, and pulled out the topmost article. It was the first time I fully absorbed the names…Lauren, Amanda, Samantha, Stephan, Josh, Trooper Van Otterloo…I read each name, allowing my mom’s face to appear, then Amanda’s, then Sammy’s. When I got to the other names, I realized I couldn’t picture who they were. I wanted to. For the very first time in nearly two decades, I was overcome with a need for more. I needed to feel the full weight of lives lost at my mother’s hand.

 

When the accident happened my family was so broken, so hurt, suffering in their grief. “A man in the other vehicle was killed…” they said, “a newlywed, young, coming home from a fishing trip.” At the time, I was processing the onslaught of emotions – numb to everything, the news just didn’t register. I couldn’t allow any more pain to fill my soul. There wasn’t room. “Another man drove alongside their car, trying to get them to turn around, waving at them and flashing his lights…” Again, I couldn’t go there, couldn’t think. Everything and everyone was dead to me. In the years following, I gathered my brokenness, packaged it up, and built a solid wall around myself. I stopped crying. I hid behind the wall. I pretended I was fine, turning my eyes forward, rather than inward. I grew numb. I was suffocating, slowly, in a coffin of my own making.

 

But this time, I absorbed the article’s contents. I saw their names and remembered the story, lingering on each detail. The accident was 18 years ago and now I was finally able to consider these families, their stories intertwined with my own. That horrific day was a part of their story as well. My life was blurred with theirs.

 

A realization hit me. The Internet. Facebook. I can find them. Would they want to know me, know my story? Do I want to know theirs? Yes. YES.

 

It took me an hour to find them. There were two I prayed would respond. Carla, the widow of the man who died in the other vehicle and Josh, the faithful Good Samaritan who tried to get my mom and her boyfriend to turn around. Finding Josh proved more difficult than Carla, but I was certain I found his wife. I messaged both:

 

“You don’t know me, but my name is Abbie Kampman…”

 

I explained who I was, that I was deeply sorry for the pain my family had caused, and hoped to hear back from them. Finishing, I paused, hesitating for a split second. Before I could rethink the decision, I hit send. Gone. Off to the interwebs. Now the waiting. I truly didn’t expect to hear back. I assumed each message would rest in their spam folders, forgotten. But three days later, a message popped up in my Facebook inbox from Stephan’s widow:

 

“Wow. I’m blown away. Yes, I am Carla. You found the right person. I’m so glad you decided to message me. Just wow. So many emotions, but mostly admiration for you. I am so sorry too. If you ever want to hear my story I would happily share it. If you’d like to share yours, I’d love to hear about your sisters too. Thank you, Abbie. You are now always in my prayers.”

 

My breath caught in my throat. Did this really just happen? She not only responded, but she was kind, generous, and forgiving! My body shook, overwhelmed at the magnitude of what just happened.

 

From that moment, the summer snowballed into a series of connections. I called Carla and we talked for over an hour. I got in touch with Josh, the man who drove alongside my mom’s car. I connected with Steve, the state trooper who investigated the accident. Each of these individuals provided comfort, peace, care, and generosity. God began to dress wounds that had never fully healed. He began to lift the weight from my shoulders. He began to free the chains I didn’t realize were holding me back for so many years. I began to reach for anything and everything I could find that may provide closure. In a conversation with Steve, he mentioned he could get me a copy of the accident report and the photos of the bodies. I hesitated, but said yes. I wanted no stone unturned.

 

I sent a request for the full accident report per Steve’s instructions. I asked for the photos. Many families of fatalities and homicides don’t want to see them, but I did. I never got to see Mom before she was cremated. If I couldn’t see her final brokenness, I couldn’t think of her as anything but fabricated, untouched and unharmed by her choices. I needed to see the devastation that came from her hand. Her body, my sisters’ bodies, Todd’s, Steve’s, the mangled cars, the debris – the wreckage that became her life. I needed to see how far I’d come since God has picked up the pieces. Mom left this earth with a broken body and in turn, left me with a broken soul.

 

After dropping the request in the mail, I sucked in a breath. It’s coming. Every detail I’ve ever avoided is coming. Lord, be near. A few weeks later, the file arrived.

I’d been waiting on pins and needles and now, it was in my hands. The typical 9×11 yellow manilla envelope – full of papers and photos that would alter how I’d understood the accident for the past 18 years. The truth. The truth was in my hands. I had to put it down for a bit, the contents too violent to handle. It was all too much. I wandered around the house, picking up toys, putting away books, reading emails without actually taking in the information, pouring tea, setting out ingredients to make brownies for the boys’ VBS that night, changing the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Mundane tasks to put off the inevitable.


Should I open it? I kept walking toward the envelope, then away. Finally, I picked it up, wanting to get it over with.


I sat down. Undid the metal clasp. Pulled out the papers. Department of Public Safety. Iowa State Patrol. File number 99-133. Hands trembling, I noticed a sticky note attached to the topmost paper. “The photos are coming. They are negatives and need to be processed at a separate facility. I will get them to you as soon as possible.” I exhaled. Well at least I can prepare myself further for those, I thought, slightly disappointed, but knowing God had a reason for the delay; I needed to digest in small bits. Too much. It was all too much.


I flipped the bound file to the first page and read through each word. Page after page of technical details, what time the accident occurred, at which mile marker, how fast the cars were going, where they hit, at what angle they rested, how much alcohol was in Todd’s blood, how many fatalities, how many injured – basic details. One thing I noticed was that the reports seemingly focused on the drivers and the injured. My mother and sisters were oddly left out of the technical details, their only representation was in the final death count. Five. Five deaths. They could have been anyone – any number of people. Just a number. Their injuries, their ages, their lives, their stories? Nothing. The only mention of them came at the end of the report, in the witness accounts. There were six statements, two from the surviving injured men in the other vehicle, and four from innocent bystanders who happened to see the accident and stopped to help. Josh’s statement was in there, but the one that caught my eye was a woman named Lynne. Lynne said, “We were heading home, on Highway 218. I was watching the road ahead and saw dust flying. I told Wayne to stop. He pulled over right away and our headlights shone on a child’s body. We immediately got out to help and ended up pulling out another child, a little girl, from the wrecked car before it started to burn.”


It’s her. It’s him.


The couple who pulled Amanda from the car. They saw Sammy’s body on the road. They were there, they touched their lifeless little arms, felt their hair, probably had the girls’ blood on their hands and clothes. They were there.


I dropped the report. Too much. It was too much. Tears running down my face, I took in the scene – allowed myself to go there, as I had been doing so often lately. I pictured Lynne, driving along staring at the road, dusk just settling and the sun nearly gone on the horizon. The Iowa countryside flying by. Their car, cresting the hill at mile marker 80 on Highway 218, the commotion ahead, the dust overwhelming the road. Lynne, urging Wayne to pull over, quickly. Wayne steering their car onto the left shoulder, car screeching to a halt, headlights still on. Following the beams of light, a girl, laying in the road. Bleach blonde hair, tanned skin covered in dust and blood, lifeless. Lynne jumping out, Wayne right behind her. Running to Sammy, feeling her pulse. Nothing. Running to the car, glass and mangled steel littering the road, airbag dust filling their lungs, the smell of blood, exhaust, gasoline, alcohol permeating the air. Another girl in the back seat of the car, darker blonde, slightly older, also lifeless. Prying the door open, pulling the thin body out before the flames began to overtake the front hood. Frantically trying to help the two adults in the front, but unable, their bodies crushed and the car’s flames licking closer.


I stopped. Too much. It was too much.


I refocused my mind, tried to think of them as everyone else does reading a newspaper article, or watching the news, as a mere number, a death count. I couldn’t. These were my sisters, my mother, my family, my heart. A heavy conviction settled over me, realizing when I see an article about the Syrian crisis, bombings in Europe, or Tsunamis in Asia, it’s so easy to pass over the death toll. A number. Nameless faces, simply fatalities. Except they aren’t. These individuals, all of them, are someone’s child, mother, uncle, friend. These are precious lives loved by others. Someone, somewhere is weeping over each lost soul. Each broken life. Each puddle of blood. Each final breath.


What is a life? Why do we value it so deeply? How can we squash a bug, accidentally run over a squirrel, flush a fish down a toilet, and simply go on with our lives without a second thought – but a human life lost is unparalleled. We break. We mourn. We grieve with every ounce of our souls. Even a human we have never met. Ask a woman who has suffered a miscarriage of a child so desperately wanted and she will tell you. That child was hers, and it was loved. Ask a daughter whose 90 year old father died in his sleep peacefully and she will tell you. His life was powerful, influential, loved. She cannot fathom a moment without him, even though his life was full and ended well. The many losses of life in between, the spectrum of grief, the meaning of a heartbeat, a single breath, of warm skin in a tender embrace – it’s all there…something we cannot explain. We were created to love. To have deep care for each human soul. It’s innate. We were made for this.


According to Henri Nouwen, “What makes us human is not our mind but our heart, not our ability to think but our ability to love.” To love is to be human. Humans were created for love, to embody it, to share it, to weep over it, to die for it. God made us in His image (Genesis 1:27), and He is love (1 John 4:8). If He is love and we were made in His likeness, then we were uniquely created to love one another. Two birds cannot love one another, two fish cannot show or feel love, two spiders cannot experience love. No. We, mankind, created in His image, in His likeness, were designed to love. When any one of us dies, our loss is felt because of love. Not merely by our friends and family, but by our God, our Father, who designed each and every one of us.


Every person matters. Every life matters. Every one. We are not a mere number, a population of nameless faces; we are dearly loved by a Heavenly Father who knows the numbers of hairs on our heads because He formed every one. That precious blonde preschooler, lying in the road, lit up by the headlights of Wayne and Lynne’s car, was seen by God. The thin, tanned seven year old, pulled from the mangled vehicle, was created in His image. The inebriated woman, crushed by the swiftly burning mangled vehicle, she was dearly loved by her Maker. All of them, each unique, and not one more precious than the other – they were not a mere death count. No, these lives were valued far more than they knew. Jesus wept over their brokenness, just as much as He does and will over each and every life on this earth. We are not a number. We are precious. We are dearly loved and created to love in return.

 

Taking this in, I wept. For the first time in 18 years, I sobbed with grief over each of the souls that perished, feeling the full weight of love God has for each of His children. I praised Him for the redemption of new relationships with the victim’s family and witnesses. I handed my burden over and acutely felt Him carry the weight away, taking it upon Himself. I felt His love envelop me, wholly, the chains of brokenness shattered.

 

The walls crumbled. I was finally free.

 

“Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,

and he saved them from their distress.

He brought them out of darkness, the utter darkness,

and broke away their chains.

Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for mankind,

for he breaks down gates of bronze

and cuts through bars of iron.”

Psalm 107:13-16

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

-C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

JOY

“For you have made me rejoice, Lord, by what you have done; I will shout for joy because of the works of your hands.” Psalm 92:4

 

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more because the previous things have passed away. Look, I am making everything new!” Revelation 21:4-5

 

I received a card in the mail from a dear friend this week. She wrote something very profound that I had seemed to overlook in scripture. She pointed out the scars Jesus had when He showed Himself  to Thomas – even AFTER His resurrection – He still bore the scars of the pain He endured on the cross. It’s my best guess that Jesus still has those scars, even as He sits at the right hand of God, and that He’ll have those scars until the day He descends and all sin and death are conquered – giving way to full and utter restoration.

 

Jesus’ scars are evidence that He was fully God (with a resurrected body) and fully man (with physical scars). This time between His resurrection and ascension reminds me of the place we find ourselves in Advent – somewhere between joy of what has been and anticipation of what will be. My pastor refers to this idea as “The Already, But Not Yet.” We find joy in the already and anticipation for the not yet. We rejoice in the victory over sin through Christ’s resurrection, while anticipating full restoration of our scars. In the already His grace is revealed on Earth through glimpses of Heaven. The already is the joy we experience in the now. It is breaking bread with our community. It is remission from Cancer or being freed from the bondage of addiction. It is acting as the hands and feet of Christ to serve others during their suffering. The already allows us to see God’s goodness on Earth, and as a result we experience unmatched joy. It is the joy we have ALREADY discovered in God’s healing, victory, and peace this side of Heaven. It is the manifestation of Christ; God coming down to Earth as a baby, fully man and fully God. He has already come. He has already died. He has already risen…yet we still wait in anticipation.


It is already…but not yet.

 

The not yet is the promise of Eternity in Heaven. The promise of a restored body and a New Earth. The not yet is the longing of our human hearts for healing from pain, disease, and disability. It is the hurt we feel as a result of our sin because we have yet to be fully redeemed. It is the mother longing to hold her child again because we have yet to be fully restored. It is the violence we see between races because we have yet to be fully reconciled.  But although we have NOT, we put our focus on the YET. And this turns our sorrowful longing into a joyful anticipation. The not yet is security in a promise, and this security allows us to proclaim JOY even when we have not. It allows us to proclaim joy in the midst of death, sin, and suffering. It is the joy in knowing a time of reversal is coming when death will be life, our sins will be cleansed, and our wounds will be healed. Our scars will be no more.

 

During Advent we reflect on the anticipation the world felt as they waited for their King to come. We rejoice in this event in history, because it changed our future forever. Simultaneously, we reflect on our own anticipation for the Second Coming of Christ and the Great Reversal. The longing of our hearts for these things, plus the joy of Jesus Christ brings us to a place of anticipation. We no longer LONG for restoration, redemption, and reconciliation; we ANTICIPATE them! We stand secure in God’s promise that our broken hearts will be fully redeemed, our broken relationships will be fully reconciled, and our broken world will be fully restored! And that my friends, is reason to rejoice!

Lauren Scurry

THAT I MAY DECLARE HIS WORKS

Abigail Brown

I would not be the person I am today without the Lord, but I also would not be the young woman I am without the training, loving discipline, countless prayers, and much encouragement from my parents.

I was born in 1993. Family photos show me as a cute, chubby little toddler while my parents recall my early talkativeness and love of singing. Up until God allowed a different plan to unfold in my life, I grew and developed as the majority of children do. However, when I was 3 years old, I was bitten by a tick during a family vacation and contracted Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. My condition was misdiagnosed, resulting in severe brain damage that robbed me of the ability to speak, walk, and use my hands. The doctor told my parents that I would recover within the year, but that hope proved false. After many years of physical and occupational therapy, I relearned how to walk and regained the use of my left hand.

My ability to speak has never returned. When I was 5 years old, my parents finally found out that the brain trauma I experienced had led to the development of Dystonia, a condition which causes muscles to tighten and the body to contort in different ways. Currently, there is no cure for Dystonia, though I have undergone numerous surgeries and procedures to alleviate some of the more painful and debilitating symptoms.

From age 3 to 7 I had to have help with everything: getting dressed, showering, going to the restroom, and eating. I don’t know how my mom managed. From age 8 to my early teenage years, I gradually learned to take care of all my personal care. As I’ve gotten older, accomplishing those seemingly simple tasks feels like running a marathon. Eating and drinking can also be tough at times. For example, on a good day I can eat lunch in 35 minutes, but on a bad day it takes 45 minutes or more.

I can only use my left hand to accomplish tasks. My left hand has 20 percent dexterity. My right arm can be useful at times when I have to carry certain things. From early on, I had to learn to communicate my needs by pointing to pictures first and have since transitioned to a computerized device that voices words for me. I am very thankful for the progress in technology in my lifetime. Imagine, typing everything you wanted to say with either your pointer finger or thumb. I’m thankful for the relationships I have in my life. The best way I communicate with people is by texting. Very thankful for “word predict” – don’t know how I lived without it for so long.

I hope when you get to know me you can look past my disability and see that I’m just like you. I love watching sports, going shopping, drinking coffee, but most importantly, I love God. I’m thankful my parents raised us to go to church. My dad or mom would pray with us every night before we went to bed. They taught us to always do our best in whatever we accomplished, whether it be a chore around the house, or writing a paper for school. My parents also taught me to focus on what I can do, and reminded me every so often, that there are others who live with more frustrating disabilities than I went through.

I honestly can’t live day by day without the Lord. When I’m weak, He is strong. When no one understands what I’m going through, I can talk to Him. He’s everything I’ll ever need and so much more. I’d like to share with you how God has given me this unexplainable peace and joy through my adversity.

The way I would like to portray Dystonia is like I’m trapped in a prison cell, and that prison cell is my body. Now I don’t want you feel sorry for me. No, because I’m a prisoner of Hope! God has been so good to me through this trial in life. I honestly do believe He has a purpose and He allowed this handicap in my life so He can get the glory and honor. When I think about being trapped inside a prison cell, I think about Paul and Silas. They sang in prison! (Acts 16:16-34) And it wasn’t, “Woe is me; I’m suffering for the Lord.” They were probably singing “Jesus Saves!” I don’t know what they were singing, but they were singing to the Lord through their trial. Paul went through adversity, didn’t he? He was beaten, whipped, put in prison, and was shipwrecked. After all that, God allowed him to have a thorn in the flesh. We don’t know what it was, but we do know that he prayed to God three times to take it away. And God told him, “My Grace is sufficient for thee.” I love how Paul responds in 2 Corinthians 12:10: “Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.”

When I look at my life and all that I’ve been through, God has shown me that I can have pleasure in infirmities. Obviously, I have never been through anything like Paul has. None of us have. Another verse that’s an encouragement to me is 1 Corinthians 15:10. The first part says, “but by the grace of God I am what I am.” I have come to the point to where I can say, “by the Grace of God I am what I am.” It took me a long time to finally accept this handicap and realize that He has a plan for my life. At the end of that verse it says, “yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.” Were it not for God’s grace, I would be lost! I thank God that He saved me 17 years ago at a kids’ Bible study. I haven’t been the same since He came into my life.

God has taught me many lessons through this handicap. When all my friends were getting their driver’s licenses and cars, I was dealing with the fact that I would probably never have a driver’s license or my own car. It took some time alone with God to understand there are more important things in life than driving a car. Like depending on God and trusting His plan for my life. Learning to be content in this area of my life, still to this day, is not easy. Especially when I saw my younger sisters get their licenses and cars and move on in their lives.

As a handicapped single adult, I have learned that God will provide for all I need and want if it is for His will. Whether it be a job or a desire of a mate. I won’t tell you the whole story, but God worked it out for me to have a job. I have my own business called, Silent Inspirations. I sell my paintings and notecards that have my art on them. I also have a blog that I write on once a month. I started this blog 5 years ago after I graduated from high school. I entitled it Abiding with Joy in Christ. I mainly write about different hymns and southern gospel songs that have encouraged me, along with scriptures that have spoken to my heart.

You may not have a handicap like me. Maybe your kids have started to go down a different path than you had planned. Some of you might be struggling in accepting where you are in life. Or you’re tired of how mundane your week can get as a mom. Or maybe you’re having financial trouble. I don’t know what particular trial or circumstance you are facing. But the scriptures say that God brings trials into our lives for a reason. We may not understand those reasons at the time, but God will give you the strength you need to overcome whatever is in your life.

Lastly, I’d like to share these four verses with you from Psalm 73:

“Whom have I in heaven but thee?
And there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.
My flesh and my heart faileth:
but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
For, lo, they that are far from thee shall perish:
thou hast destroyed all them that go a whoring from thee.
But it is good for me to draw near to God:
I have put my trust in the Lord God,
that I may declare all thy works.” (vs 25-28)

These verses have been my proclamation for the past couple of years. It’s my desire to declare all the Lord has done in my life – I hope you this is your desire also.

*Read more thoughts and reflections from Abigail on her blog, where she encourages others to deepen their true, abiding joy in Christ!

PEACE

Imagine joining your closest friends in a late night sail boat ride, there is this one friend who is an expert sailor, wise and sharp. He leads everyone on the boat and already everyone feels safe and care free because of the expert on board with them to guide and direct the boat. Nothing to worry about. The water is amazing – beautiful breeze and moonlight to make it a spectacular ride. Then all of the sudden a storm arises out of nowhere, the most violent storm you have ever seen. The water is pouring over the sides and the boat rocks back and forth, friends are sliding left and right, failing down. The mast is hit by lightning and falls onto the deck and the sails are torn. Fear and terror are on all your friends’ faces. You look for your friend, the expert sailor, and see that he is sleeping on a cushion! Sleeping through the worst storm of your life. You scream out, “Help us! The ship is going down!” So what do you think happens next? Does the expert wake up, masterfully taking control of the boat – lifting new sails and getting the boat safely to a nearby dock? Does he wake and freak out alongside everyone else in the boat as the boat sinks? No. The expert wakes, sees the fear and disbelief on his friends faces and hearts, and tells the wind and rain, “Peace. Be still.” The water becomes still, the raindrops fall down onto the deck mid air, the boat comes to balance, and friends all around are amazed, stumbling to catch their breathe, now in fear and disbelief of what was just witnessed. The expert sailor responds, “Why didn’t you trust me?”

The expert in scenario three is definitely different than the experts we run across here in the flesh, but He is real. He exists. His name is Jesus. He has dominion over all things, He doesn’t panic, He doesn’t just fix the sails and mast and help the boat sail to safety. He tells the elements – the wind, rain, and ocean, that which is affecting us – what to do. He is not just an expert, but rather Creator of all things, Author of the universe, Sovereign over nature, disease, sin, and evil. He lays His life down for those He loves and suffered once for all of our sins, so that we would be brought to God, Who has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the Kingdom of His beloved Son. (1 Peter 3:18, Colossians 1:13)

Isaiah 9 gives us a perspective to what hope in the Messiah looks like – the end of all oppression with justice and righteousness forever giving way to a kingdom of peace. Isaiah 9:6-7 refers to a Prince of Peace. He literally brings unending greatness, reign, justice, and righteousness – He brings peace forever.

“For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the greatness of his government and peace

there will be no end.

He will reign on David’s throne

and over his kingdom,

establishing and upholding it

with justice and righteousness

from that time on and forever.

The zeal of the Lord Almighty

will accomplish this.”

Mark recounts Jesus’ sovereignty over nature in chapter 4 verses 35-41: “On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

He satisfies and allows our soul to rest no matter what is going on around us. Psalm 23:2 says, “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.” No matter what is crashing down or what mountains quake around us, He leads us by still waters if WE are with Him, and there with Him, He provides good things. Ask yourself, do you run from God when chaos or crisis starts because your fear and control take over, or do you abide with Him – staying and remaining in His presence? A friend and I like to say, “you are leaving the Kingdom,” when one of us starts to panic about circumstances, lists off the worst case scenario storyline, or allows fear to run freely in our thoughts. We encourage one another to stay in the Kingdom, stay in His presence. He doesn’t walk away from us, but we can walk away from Him by doubting His promises.

When anxiety and doubt creep into our minds, it separates us from God. Doubt is defined as believing something is not true; fear that separates us from God. The enemy looks for a moment where he can use doubt to bring us out of the Kingdom merely through our own thoughts. That is the moment when peace is lost – when we separate ourselves from God.

In the passage above, Jesus calms the raging storm and He shows us a few very important aspects of His Lordship. He is sovereign over all things, even nature. He can tell the wind to Be Still or the rain drops to stop mid air. His words command the wind and rain to cease. Even the disciples were so shocked that this person in the boat with them had that authority and it scared them. Jesus acknowledges their fear in Luke 8:25, “Then he said to his disciples, ‘where is your faith?’” He inquires, “Why can’t you trust me?” to the men He has chosen, revealed Himself to, loved unconditionally, called out of sin to live a life with Him, freed from the bondage of their pasts, and performed numerous “miracles” over and over again in their presence. But did they see? Even when we lack faith, He doesn’t leave us. Hebrews 13:5 says that “He will never leave us, He will never abandon us.” We have to believe this is true because it is. God always keeps His promises to us. He has promised a relationship with us for eternity and in that relationship, the Prince brings Peace.

Peace is a deep foundational understanding of who God is, what God is able to do, and what has been done through the blood of Jesus for you. Know where your hope comes from – look back at what God has done. Nothing is more important, better, satisfying, or more fulfilling than the love and freedom you have in Christ. You do not have to work hard for the peace that is promised, all you have to do is seek Him with all of your heart and see Him for who He is – a Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

God is always with us, but are we choosing to be with Him? He always has open arms saying you are welcome here, stay as long as you like. This Advent season, the build up to Christmas can be stressful. We may be grieving a loss or heartache, we may be in a desert place with the Lord and not feel that closeness we once had, or we may feel the warmth of His love and strength of His mighty fortress and the peace that surpasses all understanding. No matter where you are with God today, I challenge you to see where you are in relation to Him – are you near Him, are you seeking Him daily, pleading with Him, praising Him for all that He has done? Are you aligning your heart with His? Are you living for the Kingdom or for the world?

Who is He to you and why do you not trust Him? Do you have Him in a box? Do you feel like Jesus leaves you in a crisis, do you see Him as incompetent to handle your mess, or do you see that He has authority over all that is going on in and around you, not just the circumstance, but the heart and mind of us all? He is who brings peace to our storm. Luke 2:14, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” His favor rests on His children, He leaves us peace, but not the worldly peace. He tells us to not be afraid (John 14:27), for He gives a peace that transcends all human understanding that will guard our hearts and your minds through Jesus Himself (Philippians 4:7).

“Cease striving and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Cease. Did you hear that? STOP striving. Just KNOW (and rest) HE is GOD! HE. IS. GOD!

Amy Merritt

 

 

THE POWER OF PRAYER

Sarah Slanzi

Your hand is on the door, you’re ready to call to it quits. The tear stains on your pillow are the unspoken evidence of sleepless nights as your heart stung with the loss of what you had hoped your marriage would be. You were sad, then angry, then sad again, and now you are just numb.

 

You are trying to look ahead to life without your husband. On one hand you feel relief that it is almost over and you can forge ahead with a new life; yet, on the other hand, your heart grieves with every beat the loss of the man you thought would hold your heart forever, who now is no longer there to even offer a sympathetic hug in the most anguishing trial you have ever had to face.

 

If you’re really being honest with yourself, in the quiet of your heart and beyond the built-up resentment, there is a restlessness. You are trying to not pay attention to it because the new-found numbness feels better. Even still, it is there.

 

Let me tell you our story before you file for divorce…

 

It was 4 years ago that God worked a miracle and salvaged the unsalvageable. We had been married for 9 years and our marriage looked nothing like what I had imagined. My husband was a drug addict, addicted to pain medication he had started taking in the days of his youth. At first, it wasn’t noticeable. He used them seldom and, quite frankly, marital bliss let me see everything through swooning young love eyes.

 

But soon came kids, one and then two, then he could no longer hold down jobs as his addiction was taking over. Soon the pressure of work landed on me. I was working, raising kids, maintaining a household, and taking care of an often mentally-absent husband. After years of working at that speed while watching my husband check out of reality, my heart began to become callous. I was worn out and worked to the bone. I had started taking heart medication as I was not handling the stress well. I blamed him for my failing health.

 

This was not a man worth loving. This was not a man I wanted to grow old with. This was not the man for me.

 

We argued. I yelled…a lot. I grew angry, bitter, and fed up. I stopped internalizing my feelings and started letting everything out at the expense of my husband’s feelings. I didn’t care. He was hurting me and I was giving it all I could to throw hurt and pain back on him. I hated who I was becoming. But again, I blamed him for that too. The extremely small few who knew our story told me to get out. They told me he would never change, and that I deserved better.

 

And yet, through it all, whenever I prayed I never felt at peace about leaving oddly enough – and I hated that part! Though I certainly fantasized about life without him, or life with a man who had it pulled together…I daydreamed of a life with a spouse who was a companion, not just a drugged out shell of a man wearing a hole in the couch. I could not understand why I didn’t feel released to go. I certainly wanted to with every last morsel of my mind and body. So I did the only thing I knew how to do…I prayed.

 

After a year of what I would call the worst of it, I cried out my final prayer to God: “This is all I can take! No more! Save me! Am I not worth more to You than this?! Why won’t You give me peace to leave?” I trembled and sobbed uncontrollably. It was just too much. It was that night that I asked God that He would either let my husband die from overdose, or let me just not wake up.

 

I had been sleeping in my daughter’s room for about 2 years at that point, and the following morning he came stumbling into the bedroom before I had even woken up. He let out a loud wail and collapsed on the floor. The dramatic awakening reminded me that God had not answered my plea. Both of us had woken up. What happened next was a series of actions that moved quickly. I kicked him out. He moved in with his parents.

 

I began to finally speak about this quiet hell that I had been living in with a set of good friends for the first time. They assured me that my husband needed help and that they would rally behind us. We prayed long and hard! My heart was racing and sleep was elusive as we moved through this phase of the journey. A few days later I called him home and gave him an ultimatum. Get help, or get out–permanently.

 

This decision did not come from me genuinely wanting a divorce. In spite of it, this was the man I once chose to make a lifelong commitment to. It was in this moment that I realized that I could not save this marriage on my own accord. I was keenly aware of the risks involved. My husband could have said “no” to help and walked away from me and the kids. He also could have said “no” and found a great lawyer and taken the kids for himself leaving me with nothing.

 

It was in this moment that I let go of the white-knuckled grip on my marriage and placed it in the hands of God. He was the only hope I had, and for the first time in years, deep down inside a small glimmer of peace began to brew.

 

After much anger and name calling to me, he left to rehab. Unbeknownst to me, he had every intention of completing the program with the intent of coming home sober just long enough to divorce me and take the kids. The very fear I feared the most.

 

Everyday came phone calls from him while he was in rehab. Each time I picked up came badgering words. One day I was laying on the couch, too exhausted to move, when the phone rang. It was him. I didn’t want to pick up, but something in me caused me to reach for the phone before I knew what I was doing.

 

“Hello, Beautiful,” he said to me.

 

Was he high? Who had snuck drugs into this man in a locked up facility?!

 

We had been praying for him in our prayer group the night before and that morning. He knew about these prayers, but had simply told me to, “Shove it.” He wanted nothing to do with God, and didn’t think prayer was of any use. He told me regularly that praying for him would be a waste of time. Nevertheless, we prayed.

 

What he told me next was nothing short of a miracle. He told me he was sitting there that morning when a wave of peace and joy washed over him. He felt new, like he had never felt before. In that moment, and from that moment on, he was washed clean from the desire to do drugs. He was filled with God’s presence in a tangible way.

 

Tears rolled down my face and I knew that God had answered all our poured out prayers.

 

He came on Christmas Eve (best Christmas present ever!). Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was not an instant happily-ever-after story. It has taken work to rebuild trust. He has had to live openly and honestly with me when I ask him questions about his health. And I have had to relearn how to put the filter back on my thoughts. He is not the man he was, and I cannot treat him like it. It has been tremendous effort on both our parts to come together again, but it has come with sweetness and joy as we pursue the marriage we originally hoped for. Truly this victory is God’s!

It has been 4 years ago to the day that he took his final pill. I now have a new husband. He is truly the man I had hoped to marry many years ago. I am completely in love with him, and he with me. I want with all my heart to grow old with this man.

 

My dear, sweet reader, have hope. Your marriage is not lost, your grip on it is just too tight. Place your marriage in the stable, steady hand of God and then grip His mighty hand as He works in ways you cannot see today. He will hear your cries.

 

First and foremost, pray for your own heart that it would not callous over to the man you pledged your love too, but that it would stay warm to the idea of marriage to him. Pray for your spouse that his heart would soften. That the chains of his past would be broken and new bonds would be made.

 

Pray that God would work miracles. And be willing to speak, move, push, and (the hardest of all) be still and be silent as He leads. (Psalm 46:10)

 

May I leave you with a verse that helped me in my trials: “Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.  Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no “root of bitterness” springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled…” (Hebrews 12:12-15)


*Read more from Sarah on her blog, www.thebackyardmissionary.com!

HOPE

If we look all the way back to the very beginning, God gave His people something to hope for. You may not associate hope with the Fall of Adam and Eve. In that moment, the curse of sin swept over God’s perfect creation, and death and damnation became the fate of all humanity. Adam and Eve had to be cast out of the perfect paradise God had created just for them, but He did not send them off without a glimmer of hope: “The Lord God said to the serpent, ‘Because you have done this…I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.’” Genesis 3:14-15

Hope continued to be the driving force that God used for generations. To Noah He gave the hope of a promise that never again would He destroy the earth by flood. To Abraham He gave the hope of a promise of offspring – more numerous than the stars! To Moses He gave the hope of a promise of deliverance from bondage and the covenant of the Law. To Joshua He gave the hope of a promise of entering and taking hold of the Promised Land. To David He gave the hope of a promise of an everlasting throne. And throughout the prophets we see the hope of the promised Redeemer, Deliverer, and Savior woven through each book.

Hope can be a feeling or an action. God gave His people hope through His Word that He would send a Savior, and His people hoped that He would. But without faith, hope is really just wishful thinking. Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen.” The Advent of Jesus at His birth was proof and confirmation to many of the faithfulness of God to keep His promises. It makes me think of the account of Simeon and Anna in Luke 2:25-38. These two devout Jews eagerly and expectantly awaited the arrival of the promised Messiah. I can’t even imagine the joy and pure elation upon having that which they had hoped in for so many years finally revealed to them! Simeon praises the Lord and cries out,
“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation
that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and for glory to your people Israel.”

At His first coming, Jesus brought the hope of salvation for all the peoples of the world. We who have put our faith in His finished work are now born into a living hope, one in which we eagerly await the future, eternal promises of God to be fulfilled. We too, hope in something not yet seen, but through faith, we believe that God is faithful. Peter writes in 1 Peter 1:3-9, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

As we reflect on the hope of this season – the Hope that has already come into the world – don’t miss out on the eager expectation of hoping in what is yet to come. The joy and reward for hoping in His return will be far greater than anything you find under your tree!

“Behold, I am coming soon, bringing my recompense with me, to repay each one for what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” Revelation 22:12-13

Jenni Norsworthy

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