I awoke to the unwanted realization... It was just a dream. Just moments have passed, but he's distant now... We were sitting across from each other, I felt his hand, his fingers, we talked and laughed.. his smile, the kindness and joyfulness in his eyes...
I relish those moments, though they are few and far between, when I forget he is gone, enjoy the comfort of his presence in another world... a dreamworld.
It reminds me of some other dreams... Dreams that led me to where I am now... A couple of weeks ago, I wrestled greatly with God, How can I just let things go? Our ministry here is so unfinished? How could you have let it end like this? And now I just walk away? This was followed by two dreams...
The first was the image of Jesus the carpenter. It was dusty terrain, like seeing Joseph in The Nativity, though Jesus looked different, and wore different clothes. But he was there, building a house, as Joseph did, while Mary was away visiting Elizabeth. Jesus looked at me. He was staring at me, in fact, with an eery stillness in the background... The dream began to zoom in on His eyes... First I saw love and kindness, honesty, integrity, purity, strength. But the zoom kept going... almost into His eyes... Then I began to see His fiery determination that screamed at me, YOU ARE MY BRIDE. I'M NEVER GOING TO LET GO. I AM PREPARING A PLACE FOR YOU. I AM THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER OF YOUR FAITH. YOU HAVE NOT CHOSEN ME, BUT I HAVE CHOSEN YOU... Then, like passing from one world into another, the zoom continued and exploded on the other side to reveal behind His determination the armies of heaven, hosts and hosts of fiery chariots and angelic warriors rolling as ripples going forth as far as the eye could see, all within the lens of his pupil... When I had seen my fill, the zoom came out again, like traveling through a warp zone at hyper speed... my eyes still locked with his.
Without a word, by looking into His eyes, God built my confidence in Him. I may be weak and may waver or falter in difficulty, but His eyes were locked on me, my path secure, my victory won. Our Jesus has a covenantal nature. He will not go back on His Word. He will not let go.
Seeing this, my world continued to spin... I wasn't ready to fully receive its message, my heart swirling around in agony over all I was letting go...
The next night I encountered another set of dreams, more like restless images... I was chasing after Lynn, and every time I found him and got a glimpse of him, he turned his back on me and walked away. Everything in me was screaming. I was like a woman being left against her will, her husband packing his bags, loading the trunk, and driving down the road. The woman in sheer panic and hysteria follows after chasing and screaming down the road, though the car is long gone... I woke up feeling angry, bitter, exhausted, the echoes of my own shrill screams resounding in my head. Saying, Okay, fine. Leave me.
Later the next day, I found myself in a quiet place where I pursued answers with the Lord. Somehow I knew it was a goodbye. God and my beloved Lynn had tag teamed to force me to let go and move on. Lynn knew I never would :) He turned his back on me not actually to turn away, but to lead me to a place of goodbye. To help me let go of the old Lynn and embrace the new :) To help me let go of our old life, and embrace... something!
This is just a glimpse into my season of letting go... I can let go, because I know God won't.
This is a time in your life when you must learn to let go: of loved ones, of possessions, of control. In order to let go of something that is precious to you, you need to rest in My Presence... The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes: I am the same yesterday, today, and forever... Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you. (Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young, day March 24)
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
"a new relationship"
In Catherine Marshall's book, To Live Again, she recalls a man who spoke at her husband's funeral saying,
(I've replaced her husband's name, Peter Marshall, with Lynn's name):
Let me say in a few words, and in very simple words, try to express what we are trying to do this morning. We are endeavoring to establish a new relationship. We have known [Lynn Robert Erskine] in the flesh. From now on we are to endeavor to know him in the spirit, and to know him in the spirit just as we have really known him in the flesh...
In these last several months, I felt violently stripped of my old wineskin. A snowball of loss just continued to roll into seas of sorrow upon sorrow. In brief synopsis, I lost my husband, all that he was in my life, all that he was to our daughters, I lost our ministry together, all that we were in the community around us, I no longer belonged in couple activities, lost co-parenting roles, and now I am losing our home, the place where we welcomed our babies into the world, where we took them across the threshold, the home where his scent still lingers, rooms that contain memories upon memories of our biggest fights, our sweetest victories, our everyday normal that no longer exists... I lost my husband, my daughters' father, I lost our ministry, and I lost my home...
But there is something that our culture is not typically comfortable admitting, and that is the fact that God has placed eternity in our hearts (Ecc 3:11). My husband died, but lives. Lynn has joined the great cloud of witnesses (Heb 12:1) that gathers around us, cheering us on. He knows and sees fully, as we are fully known (1 Cor 13:12). He lost his natural body, but gained a spiritual body (1 Cor 15:44). My husband lives, but how? What does that mean in the process of grief? In moving on and letting go?
The journey for many of us in losing a loved one is often this: learning what to let go of and what to hold on to. What are those things that remain after the bomb has gone off, the damage is done, and the dust has settled... We are endeavoring to establish a new relationship...
I love my husband. Present tense. I long for him as such. But our relationship is different now... In the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels in heaven (Matt 22:30).
And God makes all things new... (Rev 21:5)
So what does this new relationship look like? As I wait on God for a new wineskin, a new life, a new season, a new home... How will I see Lynn reflected in it? What will remain when all else has been washed away? How will this new relationship change and shape me, be evident in my life?
Lynn, I know you're there, even though I'm still here. I know you're as close as a breath, and worlds away at the same time... I know you are a part of my life wherever I go, whatever I do.
I know you're smiling. I hear you telling me what you've told me before... Go for it, Babe. I believe you can do anything. You and the Holy Spirit are always a majority. Get up out of the depths!! Today is the best day of your life!!!!! :)
Lynn is my brother in Christ and will be the first to hold my hand when my time comes to walk through the veil from death into life everlasting. And that is a gift. Not all who grieve receive that gift. Not all deaths are painted with glory. For that, I can only cry, and weep with you dear one who grieves in darkness... But somehow, no matter how thick the darkness lies, no matter how heavily it smothers your heart... God always has the final word. And life is the only thing that lasts forever. Not death. Death is temporary. But life... Life is eternal.
(I've replaced her husband's name, Peter Marshall, with Lynn's name):
Let me say in a few words, and in very simple words, try to express what we are trying to do this morning. We are endeavoring to establish a new relationship. We have known [Lynn Robert Erskine] in the flesh. From now on we are to endeavor to know him in the spirit, and to know him in the spirit just as we have really known him in the flesh...
In these last several months, I felt violently stripped of my old wineskin. A snowball of loss just continued to roll into seas of sorrow upon sorrow. In brief synopsis, I lost my husband, all that he was in my life, all that he was to our daughters, I lost our ministry together, all that we were in the community around us, I no longer belonged in couple activities, lost co-parenting roles, and now I am losing our home, the place where we welcomed our babies into the world, where we took them across the threshold, the home where his scent still lingers, rooms that contain memories upon memories of our biggest fights, our sweetest victories, our everyday normal that no longer exists... I lost my husband, my daughters' father, I lost our ministry, and I lost my home...
But there is something that our culture is not typically comfortable admitting, and that is the fact that God has placed eternity in our hearts (Ecc 3:11). My husband died, but lives. Lynn has joined the great cloud of witnesses (Heb 12:1) that gathers around us, cheering us on. He knows and sees fully, as we are fully known (1 Cor 13:12). He lost his natural body, but gained a spiritual body (1 Cor 15:44). My husband lives, but how? What does that mean in the process of grief? In moving on and letting go?
The journey for many of us in losing a loved one is often this: learning what to let go of and what to hold on to. What are those things that remain after the bomb has gone off, the damage is done, and the dust has settled... We are endeavoring to establish a new relationship...
I love my husband. Present tense. I long for him as such. But our relationship is different now... In the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels in heaven (Matt 22:30).
And God makes all things new... (Rev 21:5)
So what does this new relationship look like? As I wait on God for a new wineskin, a new life, a new season, a new home... How will I see Lynn reflected in it? What will remain when all else has been washed away? How will this new relationship change and shape me, be evident in my life?
Lynn, I know you're there, even though I'm still here. I know you're as close as a breath, and worlds away at the same time... I know you are a part of my life wherever I go, whatever I do.
I know you're smiling. I hear you telling me what you've told me before... Go for it, Babe. I believe you can do anything. You and the Holy Spirit are always a majority. Get up out of the depths!! Today is the best day of your life!!!!! :)
Lynn is my brother in Christ and will be the first to hold my hand when my time comes to walk through the veil from death into life everlasting. And that is a gift. Not all who grieve receive that gift. Not all deaths are painted with glory. For that, I can only cry, and weep with you dear one who grieves in darkness... But somehow, no matter how thick the darkness lies, no matter how heavily it smothers your heart... God always has the final word. And life is the only thing that lasts forever. Not death. Death is temporary. But life... Life is eternal.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
New wineskin
All throughout the Scriptures, God is making things new, calling for newness...
...clear out the old to make way for the new
a grain offering of new grain
a new cart, a new moon, a new garment...
new cows that have never been milked...
a new song...
a new life..
a new name...
new heavens and a new earth...
a new covenant...
the New Gate of the Lord's house...
new mercies every morning...
a new heart and a new spirit I will put within you...
new tongues...
the new way of the Spirit...
Newness... I am standing in the middle of my devastating field of trauma, still, every minute of every day. My "coming to" was like awakening to the nightmare of my life. But the Holy Spirit whispers... new wineskins.
No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made. Neither is new wine put into old wineskins. If it is, the skins burst and the wine is spilled and the skins are destroyed. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved. (Matt 9:16-17)
In the meantime, I feel like Job, Behold, my belly is like wine that has no vent; like new wineskins ready to burst. (Job 32:19)
My belly feels like it will burst. Every emotion is 1,000 times magnified. Many times, when I am pushed beyond my ability to control myself, (usually by my children), I scream. An actual movie, bloody-murder scream, from my gut, filling the sky, destroying my unused vocal chords... There is no end to this gut wrenching pain. But, I can still smile. I can still laugh and enjoy myself, like last night when my brother Joel, my friend Chera, and I laughed hysterically through a movie in the theatre... I can laugh gleefully one minute and the next be bent over, features contorted in inner agony, emotions raw from grief...
The world goes round. It is hard to express grief. People move on. But my trauma remains fresh, raw, life will never be the same or go back to "normal" for me.
new wineskin... new wine...
In every day there lies the choice, to choose life in the through...
Today, is just one more day. And every day, is a day of grace.
And behold, I am making all things new... these words are trustworthy and true. (Rev 21:5)
...clear out the old to make way for the new
a grain offering of new grain
a new cart, a new moon, a new garment...
new cows that have never been milked...
a new song...
a new life..
a new name...
new heavens and a new earth...
a new covenant...
the New Gate of the Lord's house...
new mercies every morning...
a new heart and a new spirit I will put within you...
new tongues...
the new way of the Spirit...
Newness... I am standing in the middle of my devastating field of trauma, still, every minute of every day. My "coming to" was like awakening to the nightmare of my life. But the Holy Spirit whispers... new wineskins.
No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made. Neither is new wine put into old wineskins. If it is, the skins burst and the wine is spilled and the skins are destroyed. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved. (Matt 9:16-17)
There is a terrible letting go, a horrific stripping of my life, a necessary shedding of the old wineskin. And the promise of newness lingers... Behold I am doing a new thing (Is 43:19). I am smack dab in the middle of transitioning from old wineskin to new wineskin. That is my year, the aftermath of my husband dropping dead, of our ministry ending, of a whole book of my life suddenly slamming shut, only to discover it was just one chapter, with many more to come...
In the meantime, I feel like Job, Behold, my belly is like wine that has no vent; like new wineskins ready to burst. (Job 32:19)
My belly feels like it will burst. Every emotion is 1,000 times magnified. Many times, when I am pushed beyond my ability to control myself, (usually by my children), I scream. An actual movie, bloody-murder scream, from my gut, filling the sky, destroying my unused vocal chords... There is no end to this gut wrenching pain. But, I can still smile. I can still laugh and enjoy myself, like last night when my brother Joel, my friend Chera, and I laughed hysterically through a movie in the theatre... I can laugh gleefully one minute and the next be bent over, features contorted in inner agony, emotions raw from grief...
The world goes round. It is hard to express grief. People move on. But my trauma remains fresh, raw, life will never be the same or go back to "normal" for me.
new wineskin... new wine...
In every day there lies the choice, to choose life in the through...
Today, is just one more day. And every day, is a day of grace.
And behold, I am making all things new... these words are trustworthy and true. (Rev 21:5)
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Part B: Metaphor
A continuation from Part A: Metaphor.
Amanda flung herself back onto her bed, relishing the cushion of her soft, white pillow, her body heavy with grief and emotional pain, her soul weary from battle. Her forehead creased, her eyes shut tight...
Open or closed, it didn't matter. Amanda could only see one thing... darkness. 6 months ago, this darkness enveloped her life with sudden blindness, it welcomed her every morning, followed her throughout each day, and swallowed her whole again each night... Frustration and fear swirled around inside her. The life she lost... gone. When sorrows like sea billows roll*...
She can still hear the voices downstairs. You shouldn't push her so hard! She needs to be pushed! She needs time. She's had time! She has to fight her way through this! Her shins throbbed with pain, her elbow, the bumps and bruises from her efforts today, the cut on her hand from the broken picture frame. Another day of progress? or failure? She couldn't be sure.
Fighting to live again after blindness was easier said than done. Even in her own home, she didn't manage very long without falling. She hated being dependent on others. Her independence stolen from her. Her pride and stubbornness were constantly at war with her fears and doubts. Fears about the future, letting go of the past... Is it possible? Is it truly possible to live again after blindness and function in total darkness?
Exhausted from the days efforts and embarrassed by her weaknesses, Amanda allowed the tears to flow in the privacy of her bedroom. She cried quietly as tears of pain and agony flowed down the sides of her face, wetting the pillow beneath her head, as the voices grew quieter downstairs. She could no longer orient herself according to memory. Everything had changed. She needed to create a new way of seeing, a new way of living. But this... she wasn't certain she had the strength to do.
A swift knock on the door and Amanda recognized the familiar sound of her mothers entrance. She could smell the familiar scent of her shampoo as she sat down beside her, imagine her jewellery, outfit and hair... It was just one day, honey. You're doing so well.
Thanks, Mom, she replied, forcing a smile. I know.
Just one day... Doing so well... As she heard her mothers gentle footsteps, the quiet click of the doorknob, she turned onto her side and cried out to the only Person who understood her pain... This is Your plan? How could this have happened? You think too highly of me to honour me with such a path... I am not strong enough.
This is why you were chosen, My daughter. Because in your weakness, I am strong. With my Spirit, you shine as the stars in the universe...
With fears and doubts swirling around them, these words of hope came to rest at the base of her soul. Attuned to that still, quiet voice, she drifted off to sleep... I'll worry about tomorrow tomorrow...
A commentary to follow... maybe.
*Lyrics from It Is Well With My Soul
Amanda flung herself back onto her bed, relishing the cushion of her soft, white pillow, her body heavy with grief and emotional pain, her soul weary from battle. Her forehead creased, her eyes shut tight...
Open or closed, it didn't matter. Amanda could only see one thing... darkness. 6 months ago, this darkness enveloped her life with sudden blindness, it welcomed her every morning, followed her throughout each day, and swallowed her whole again each night... Frustration and fear swirled around inside her. The life she lost... gone. When sorrows like sea billows roll*...
She can still hear the voices downstairs. You shouldn't push her so hard! She needs to be pushed! She needs time. She's had time! She has to fight her way through this! Her shins throbbed with pain, her elbow, the bumps and bruises from her efforts today, the cut on her hand from the broken picture frame. Another day of progress? or failure? She couldn't be sure.
Fighting to live again after blindness was easier said than done. Even in her own home, she didn't manage very long without falling. She hated being dependent on others. Her independence stolen from her. Her pride and stubbornness were constantly at war with her fears and doubts. Fears about the future, letting go of the past... Is it possible? Is it truly possible to live again after blindness and function in total darkness?
Exhausted from the days efforts and embarrassed by her weaknesses, Amanda allowed the tears to flow in the privacy of her bedroom. She cried quietly as tears of pain and agony flowed down the sides of her face, wetting the pillow beneath her head, as the voices grew quieter downstairs. She could no longer orient herself according to memory. Everything had changed. She needed to create a new way of seeing, a new way of living. But this... she wasn't certain she had the strength to do.
A swift knock on the door and Amanda recognized the familiar sound of her mothers entrance. She could smell the familiar scent of her shampoo as she sat down beside her, imagine her jewellery, outfit and hair... It was just one day, honey. You're doing so well.
Thanks, Mom, she replied, forcing a smile. I know.
Just one day... Doing so well... As she heard her mothers gentle footsteps, the quiet click of the doorknob, she turned onto her side and cried out to the only Person who understood her pain... This is Your plan? How could this have happened? You think too highly of me to honour me with such a path... I am not strong enough.
This is why you were chosen, My daughter. Because in your weakness, I am strong. With my Spirit, you shine as the stars in the universe...
With fears and doubts swirling around them, these words of hope came to rest at the base of her soul. Attuned to that still, quiet voice, she drifted off to sleep... I'll worry about tomorrow tomorrow...
A commentary to follow... maybe.
*Lyrics from It Is Well With My Soul
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