Leaves the 99

Today was my 2nd day on our street team in Skid Row. I'm realizing I need to write each day I'm out with my team because being on the streets of Skid Row is pretty much like being in the midst of a war zone. 

War.

It's a war of emotions, of addictions battling one another, of literal and spiritual assaults. The onslaught of smells, the aura of suffering all around at war with one another. It's a war of good against evil. Of incredible community and resilience and simultaneous despair, hopelessness. 

Today, as I began what would end up being a 3.1mile trek around Skid Row, I was struck by this reality:

It's a war that somehow has already been won. 

Jesus won it, defeated every single power of evil I see as I walk those streets. Defeated prostitution, defeated domestic violence, defeated drug addiction, defeated mistrust, defeated shame, defeated guilt, defeated generational curses, defeated sin.

We saw so many people today in deep, deep suffering. Suffering so deep that in our humanity, it's impossible to even comprehend or address. 

But there was one particular interaction today I don't want to forget. As we walked through Gladys Park in Skid Row looking for people, a young woman approached us. She was bitten by a dog the day before and wanted help. 

We dressed her wound and she left, a pretty minor interaction. 

However, she came back...as it turns out she was still bleeding on one side of her leg. So my MA went to help her as I was caring for another patient on the sidewalk. 

In the midst of their interaction, the patient shared she had planned to end her life that day. She was going to take pills. She was fed up with life.

And in that moment, the entire world stood still for her. I could sense a turn in the spiritual realm as God's eyes in that moment rested intensely and compassionately upon her. 

I walked up to her and asked her if she could share with me what was going on. She said she wasn't sure, that she didn't want to live this kind of life anymore, she was tired. 

War.

And yet in that moment, Jesus, the God of the universe, left his "99." In the midst of the billions in need, Jesus chose to be present to this precious 1. 

Actually He has been present all along. 

The end of the story is this: she decided to live. She decided to not take her life. To hang on. 

Her parting words to us were: Thank you for making my day. 

God saved her life today. Not because we were present, but because:

He is always present. 

Because Jesus leaves anything and everything to go after just 1, just 1 who may be lost, who may be suffering, who may feel like all hope is lost. 

I don't know exactly what will happen to her, but I know this:

Jesus is with her. He has always been and He always will be. 

So in the midst of the war, we have a God that intentionally, persistently, and against all odds: 

Goes after the 1. 

N., you are God's 1. I am God's 1, your father is God's 1. He will always chase us, pursue us, be with us. May you know always that in the midst of any war you may face, you are not the 99,

You are His 1. 

Perseverance

It's kind of an overused word in some circles, and yet underutilized and underdeveloped in most places.

What does it mean to persevere? To persevere in prayer, to persevere in joy, to persevere in patience, to persevere in waiting, to persevere with people?

Today on 8/3/19, I'm not pregnant. It hasn't happened yet. But oddly, I feel closer to the fruition of God's promise to me of you, N., then ever before...

There is a peace that truly transcends understanding. An assurance that even as I look ahead without any inclination of when this will happen for us, I trust that God is a promise-keeper.

Perseverance.

Perhaps in this season, this is what it means to persevere with God. To walk with Him without a map or spiritual GPS. To persevere, even when I don't understand Him or His ways. To persevere in spending time with Him and communing with Him even when I don't see.

I think perseverance isn't talked about alot because it involves pain. To persevere means to push past our emotions and tap into the invisible, the less-praised thing, the less obvious thing, the treasure in secret, dark and inconvenient places.

Perseverance means so much to me this season because it frames the way of my days. To persevere with my Jesus and praise Him in the not yet places. To persevere as I am being made adequate.

It also means alot to me as I walk with my precious brothers and sisters on the streets of Skid Row.

On 8/1, I started on our street medicine team in Skid Row.

What does it mean to persevere when 4,000 people live in a concentrated area, ridden with evil, ridden with suffering, ridden with hopelessness, drugs, sexual abuse, poverty, sorrow, addiction, mental illness, loneliness, disease?

How does Jesus persevere each and every day with these ones? And how can I do so in my limited capacity to love, hope and be present?

How do I persevere in hope when I see men cooking meth on the ground and injecting themselves in broad daylight? When I see women prostituting in bathrooms for money or drugs?

How do we persevere in the midst of impossibility?

I don't think it means we put aside impossibility and look for what's possible. No. I think we become well-acquainted with impossibility. It becomes home for us. And as we make our home in impossibility, we find God there. We find Jesus in the midst of impossibility and He walks us out into His possibility.

So perseverance means facing impossibility face-to-face, head on, without reserve. Going all into impossibility and finding that God is in the midst of every impossibility. He is well-acquainted with impossibility. Because in Him, in Christ:

Nothing is impossible.

N., may you know this each and every day. May you be a seeker of impossible things. May you hope for the impossible, may you leap into the unknown, knowing that Jesus is more than enough to catch you. May you know that the most exciting thing about following Jesus is this:

In Him, nothing will ever be impossible.

8.6 to 6.3

Those numbers may not seem important to most, but to me, they represent a turning. A turning from night to day. A confirmation that darkness cannot and will not and has not ever overcome the light.

Truth:

I was diagnosed with diabetes in March 2016.

It came at a time of my life where I was constantly sick and I had lost the motivation to care for myself well. I had recently had a malaria scare, some gyn issues and constant weight changes. My diagnosis not only came with all the fears surrounding diabetes, but with a deep shame. Although I have a strong family history of diabetes, I knew that I had very much allowed my weight and lifestyle to go down the wrong path. So much so, that I knew I had a big part to play in the acquisition of this diagnosis.

Shame.

In 2017, I attempted to lose weight (as I had tried countless times in my life) and it was moderately successful. My sugars improved, but remained in diabetic range.

And then in 10/2018, my health came into focus as God revealed to me that He in fact had a future for me as a mother. A future that I've come to long for.

As I went in for check ups, my diabetes had worsened.

But instead of fueling my energy into bettering my health, I allowed it to consume me and paralyze me.

Have you ever felt the weight of shame and negativity so much so that it paralyzes you? Marked by hopelessness and resignation, it was business as usual for me health-wise.

And then in May 2019, everything came crashing down. I was diagnosed w/ pneumonia and at the same time deemed un-insurable by life insurance companies because my health had worsened so significantly.

At 34, I was un-insurable.

My diabetes...well, I won this magic number: 8.6. Just shy of needing to start insulin. It was the worse my diabetes had ever been since I was diagnosed.

I had a choice as I stared deep at that number:

Let it paralyze me and eat me up, or allow God to speak into the darkness.

And I remember hearing one simple whisper from my God:

I will reverse it.

That's all I heard. But it was enough for me.

And as I clung to the robe of my God, I journeyed with Him through a difficult, but rewarding path of restoration.

And yesterday, on 7/26/19, I had a repeat blood test and well you already know the big reveal:

6.3.

See, for those not well acquainted with the numbers of diabetes, 8.6 is close to the dangerous numbers of 9 and above and 6.5 wins you a diagnosis of diabetes.

But 6.3...well...that's MORE than a reversal...it's new life.

Not only does 6.3 mean I'm no longer in danger, but essentially means this:

I no longer have diabetes.

I no longer have diabetes.

I no longer have diabetes.

See...that is the type of God we serve. He comes into the room of our messes, into what feels like utter chaos and darkness and commands life. He enters in and at the sound of His voice, everything changes.

See, when He told me that He would reverse my number, 6.3 became my reality. It was real at that moment because the God of the universe spoke it. Although, in my human reality, it took another 2.5 months for me to see it, in His reality, it came to being in that day, in that moment in the Spirit.

Only a God can come in and take me at my worst, where healing seemed impossible, and speak glory.
Speak reversal. Speak healing.

So yes, I have been walking what has felt like a road of "no." And I'm not yet pregnant, and not sure when I will ever be.

But today, what I do know is this:

God is faithful. God never lies. God never deceives. God always delivers. God can heal the most chronic of illnesses.

God is good.

God loves me. Me, specifically, not me generically.

N.,

Even before you have come, God is using you to heal me. If not for my expectation and preparation for you, I wouldn't have been fully healed from diabetes after a 3 year struggle. But what my dear Pastor's wife said is true: "motherhood, whether in its preparation or in its actuality, brings about a great conversion." It converts every weak place, every flimsy place, to a place of glory, a place of honor, a place of strength. Even before you have come, you have strengthened me. You have caused me to peer deep into my diseased places and come out victorious. May I honor your life by continuing to prepare my heart, mind, soul and body for you. May you know that you are so worth it. You are so worth every ice cream bar not eaten, every bead of sweat from exercising, every poke of my finger to test my blood sugar, every medication, test, or appointment needed to ensure my body is perfectly ready for you. Thank you for converting me in every way already, even before you have actually come.

Thank you Jesus that not only will you provide me with a child, but you have healed me of all my diseases. Just as you promised me.

To You be the glory alone now and forevermore.

Silence

Today is a harder day. Since I last wrote, not much has happened, except that I got sick...again. Not nearly as bad as before, but enough to bring so much discouragement. I thought since I was healthier now that my immune system was rock-solid and yet here I am, in bed, recovering from a nasty cold.

It's so easy to regress to old thoughts, to let discouragement seep in, no matter how much Goodness we see from God. As I layed in bed, unable to exercise, and craving carbs more than ever, I felt so lost. Why was I back here again? Why can't I just be healthy?

I didn't hear any response to my questioning. Just silence.

silence.

To compound matters, I had multiple medical tests/procedures today to evaluate my recovery from the pneumonia and to check on my diabetes.

One of the tests was a pregnancy test. Just routine. Before my x-ray. I knew I wasn't pregnant, but the tech insisted so there I was, back again on the road of discouragement, the road of no.

Have you ever felt you have been walking the road of "no" for a prolonged period?

At some point, it feels familiar, you no longer expect anything else. It's marked by disappointment, by discouragement and often:

by silence.

And as the tech confirmed my negative pregnancy test, the silence became so deafening. My feet dug in just a little deeper to the ground of no. Well-acquainted by now after 2.5 years.

silence.

What is the purpose of God's silence in our lives?

Is silence just the absence of words or answers or is it actually something more?

As I ponder this question, the image I get is of a beautiful red robe, a velvet garment, thick, warm, robust, filling an empty room. Taking up all of the room.

Perhaps this is silence: the filling up of the room of emptiness with His robe: God's presence. Not His words, or gifts, or direction. Not prophecy, not scripture, not strategy. Just Him.

Silence = Presence

Perhaps in this season of silence, all I'm really supposed to do is allow His robe to fill my room. Allow His presence to fill every gap in my heart, cover over every question, draw near to every disappointment, not necessarily to heal it or address it, at least not yet.

Is His presence alone enough for me?

N.,

I do not yet know when you will come and who exactly you will be, if you ever come. Waiting for you has thrust me into a season of deep silence and sometimes it's deafening. But I hang on to His robe in the midst of it. As I walk the road of no, may your ability to hear God's no in your own life grow resilient and robust. May you know always how to accept the Divine No for the Greater, more Good Yes, no matter how long it takes. As I walk my road of no, may it somehow instill in you a sincere patience, a reverence for God's no and a capacity to know this...that even in the midst of silence:

His presence alone is always enough.

A Song of Ascents: Good

I cry out to my Lord, my God.

I cry out from within the mystery.

And yet day has already come, light cried out: it is finished.

So I cried out to my Lord to see his goodness and he answered:

What can you know of good? 

Speak to me O Lord of your Good. The Lion-of-Judah Good. The Glorious Good only you can bring.

I turn to you my Savior and all else fades away. Every other good, every other goodness.

Would your Goodness rise O God in the night. Would the darkness birth only your Good.

My God, I see your Goodness rising.

May I rise with you as night turns to day.

Selah

The Great Readjustment

"The great readjustment that I believe is being made in me is that the reason we were born into this fallen world and entrusted with earthly life is for us to learn to abandon ourselves to a loving God who imagines and creates only the highest possible goodness." - Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places

A dear friend recommended this book to me and it's been quite transformative. The book is about a young girl called Much-Afraid who journeys with the Good Shepherd through trials and battles to be changed into her new name: Grace-and-Glory. It's a simple book, but so meaningful because throughout the young girl's journey, she falters and mistrusts the Shepherd. Even though He comes through, rescues and at times shields her from danger (not all the time though), she carries much fear. And when she does face danger, she is quick to fall into bitterness, wondering why God has forsaken her. Only later when she reaches the "high places" does she realize that every danger or battle she faced, only prepared her for freedom and joy at her destination. In fact, without it, she wouldn't totally belong to the Shepherd and His lands. She wouldn't have Shalom.

As companions on her journey, the Shepherd gives her two strong helpers, but with odd names: Sorrow and Suffering. She journeys with Sorrow and Suffering throughout her journey, leaning on them in hard times, pressing into them when her fears overwhelmed her.

This was both a surprising and refreshing part of the book because it re-framed suffering and sorrow for me. As Christians or just as humans, we see suffering and sorrow as supremely negative things, things to be avoided at all costs. But here, they are companions, they push the young girl closer to the Shepherd, creating in her a holy desperation. They were very much part of her readjustment.

Readjustment. 

I like this word becomes it perhaps means that we were once adjusted. That when born into this world, although, imperfect, we are born adjusted, fully in God's presence, fully knowing His goodness. As children, we are more easily acquainted with the goodness of God. In some ways, we know nothing else at first.

But as life continues, we become distant perhaps. The storms of life cause us to question God. We lose this adjustment.

So, I believe, most of our lives are spent, readjusting to our baseline, our norm, our oneness with God. Shalom.

I'm still very much in process of readjusting.

I'm so much like the young girl in the story. I struggle with so many fears and am quick to blame God or mistrust Him. I struggle to hold on to the truth: that in all circumstances He is good.

But in this season, I'm closer to this truth, this shalom than I've ever been before. I'm emerging out of that steep climb to soft ground, resting at the feet of my Savior in peaceful assurance that He can and will and is working all things out for our Good. Not our good (small g), but His Good (capital g).

N., how lovely that when you enter this world, you will arrive adjusted. You will know your Maker more than me or your father does. You will actually propel our own readjustment. May you always know the supremacy of His Good. May you find your home in Jesus quickly and from a young age maintain your adjustment in Him. Even though we bring you into a world that is fallen, broken and seems beyond repair, may your spirit encompass the impossible. Even at age 20, would you have a child-like faith in Jesus, always hoping, always believing, always seeing. Thank you in advance for helping me and your father readjust and find our Shalom.

May we three always believe steadfastly in the invisible and together move closer and closer to the only thing worth adjusting for:

our Good Shepherd.

The Cross Over

"Disappointment breaks the ground of our hearts" - P.K.

Today, I woke up and everything was different. I rose at 6am, put on my running shoes and took a 4 mile jog through lovely Dublin, Ohio. It took me 1 hour and I came back refreshed, renewed.

I sat down on a peaceful bench near a pond and reflected on the last 2 months and 1 week. On 5/7/19, I was diagnosed with severe pneumonia and flu and was almost hospitalized. It was a dark, scary, shameful, awful place. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't walk more than 5 feet without needing to rest or use an inhaler. It took 3 breathing treatments to get me out of the ER. In the midst of that, I was diagnosed with uncontrolled diabetes on that same day.

I was devastated.

I remember sitting in bed as my caring husband brought me food, unable to walk to the kitchen unassisted. I sobbed into my egg whites and spinach. In the midst of being terribly ill, I could no longer eat carbs...the one thing I crave when I'm sick. My sugars were elevated, blood pressure high, cholesterol high...at age 34, I had the body of an unhealthy 50 year old.

I remember thinking, can God really heal all my diseases? I remember blaming myself, figuring this was probably the main reason we had not yet conceived after over 2 years of trying. Would I ever be whole again?

I managed to pray that day and God spoke to me. He said he would reverse my awful A1C. He said he would heal ALL my diseases. He said to do 4 simple things: exercise, drink water, pray and cut carbs and sugars. It wasn't super holy. It wasn't some deep word. But it was truth from the Other Side and this season of "4" would be the key to light breaking the darkness.

So I began what felt like an up hill battle, a steep climb toward wholeness. I still couldn't exercise, it took 3 weeks for that to be restored, but I cut all carbs and added sugars. I prayed more than I ever did before. I drank an obscene amount of water daily.

Slowly, I healed. Slowly, my body changed. My breathing came back to baseline. I started exercising again. I started packing my lunch to work, no longer eating tacos or burgers for lunch. I cut out all soda.

And today as I sat reflecting, I realized, my light has come.

I've crossed over.

I'm no longer the woman I was on 5/7. I crave exercise now. I rarely miss rice or bread. I can't go a day without a salad. I jogged 4 miles, when I couldn't before walk 4 feet.

But most importantly, as I worshipped Jesus on that bench today, I realized I was finally free from shame, worry or impatience surrounding my journey to motherhood.

A new shalom came over me, an assurance that God's timing is perfect and He is finally fully on the throne of my heart in this area of my life.

The unhealthy yearning for a timeline has been broken!

On that bench, I declared before God that I trust Him. That He has my heart. That even in the mystery, I am His.

"Post-death life is actually better than the pre-death life." P.K.

And then, He gave me Isaiah 60:

Arise, shine, for your light has come,
    and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
2 For behold, darkness shall cover the earth,
    and thick darkness the peoples;
but the Lord will arise upon you,
    and his glory will be seen upon you.
3 And nations shall come to your light,
    and kings to the brightness of your rising.

4 Lift up your eyes all around, and see;
    they all gather together, they come to you;
your sons shall come from afar,
    and your daughters shall be carried on the hip.
5 Then you shall see and be radiant;
    your heart shall thrill and exult,[a]
because the abundance of the sea shall be turned to you,
    the wealth of the nations shall come to you.
6 A multitude of camels shall cover you,
    the young camels of Midian and Ephah;
    all those from Sheba shall come.
They shall bring gold and frankincense,
    and shall bring good news, the praises of the Lord.
7 All the flocks of Kedar shall be gathered to you;
    the rams of Nebaioth shall minister to you;
they shall come up with acceptance on my altar,
    and I will beautify my beautiful house.

8 Who are these that fly like a cloud,
    and like doves to their windows?
9 For the coastlands shall hope for me,
    the ships of Tarshish first,
to bring your children from afar,
    their silver and gold with them,
for the name of the Lord your God,
    and for the Holy One of Israel,
    because he has made you beautiful.

10 Foreigners shall build up your walls,
    and their kings shall minister to you;
for in my wrath I struck you,
    but in my favor I have had mercy on you.
11 Your gates shall be open continually;
    day and night they shall not be shut,
that people may bring to you the wealth of the nations,
    with their kings led in procession.
12 For the nation and kingdom
    that will not serve you shall perish;
    those nations shall be utterly laid waste.
13 The glory of Lebanon shall come to you,
    the cypress, the plane, and the pine,
to beautify the place of my sanctuary,
    and I will make the place of my feet glorious.
14 The sons of those who afflicted you
    shall come bending low to you,
and all who despised you
    shall bow down at your feet;
they shall call you the City of the Lord,
    the Zion of the Holy One of Israel.

15 Whereas you have been forsaken and hated,
    with no one passing through,
I will make you majestic forever,
    a joy from age to age.
16 You shall suck the milk of nations;
    you shall nurse at the breast of kings;
and you shall know that I, the Lord, am your Savior
    and your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob.

17 Instead of bronze I will bring gold,
    and instead of iron I will bring silver;
instead of wood, bronze,
    instead of stones, iron.
I will make your overseers peace
    and your taskmasters righteousness.
18 Violence shall no more be heard in your land,
    devastation or destruction within your borders;
you shall call your walls Salvation,
    and your gates Praise.

19 The sun shall be no more
    your light by day,
nor for brightness shall the moon
    give you light;[b]
but the Lord will be your everlasting light,    and your God will be your glory.[c]
20 Your sun shall no more go down,
    nor your moon withdraw itself;
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
    and your days of mourning shall be ended.
21 Your people shall all be righteous;
    they shall possess the land forever,
the branch of my planting, the work of my hands,
    that I might be glorified.[d]
22 The least one shall become a clan,
    and the smallest one a mighty nation;
I am the Lord;
    in its time I will hasten it.

The Cross Over