grief (3)

PTAP: Light Shines in the Darkness

Renting two cars, a group of believers drove for an hour to the center of the Islamic world, the stronghold of darkness that blinds millions of people to the Truth. They drove around the city all day praying for the Lord to send His presence into the city and set people free from the chains of Islam.
Returning to the city they were staying at, the believers left one rental car in the parking lot of the ladies hotel and went to drop off one person on our team at the airport. When we returned to the ladies hotel to retrieve the rental car, they found that a man who had run into and damaged the rental car that we had left in the parking lot. He was from the place where they had just been praying all day. One person in the group prayed for him in the name of Jesus, the name above all names. This moved him to ask for prayer for his wife. Over the last three years they had lost three children, most recently twins. The believers prayed for this couple. Having prayed all day in and around the center of Islam for God to defeat the darkness and bring people to the Light of Christ, they were now praying specifically for two people from that city.
Later, through social media, one of the ladies on our team who speaks Arabic prayed for the man's wife Helen again. Please join us to pray for Helen. She is hurting and in pain from loosing three small children. Pray that more people from this city will hear of the Lord Jesus Christ and receive His care. Pray that God will work to bring people living in that city and visiting this city year after year out of the darkness and into the glorious Light of the Lord Jesus Christ.
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Wonderful Counselor

There are some Bible stories that are so powerful, they have the ability to change your entire perception of who God is and how He feels about you. For me, one such story is found in Luke 24.

In the midst of great grief, turmoil, and confusion, two disciples encountered the Wonderful Counselor and were forever changed. In places of pain and confusion myself, I reread this story and see such beauty in it. Take a walk with me along the Emmaus Road to see how brokenness is turned to beauty. 

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Waves of Grief

Most of us have heard about the stages of grief. I think there's denial, anger, depression...and I can't remember the others. So far I've definitely experienced those three. I remember at my brother's funeral I kept telling people, "This is wrong. We are not supposed to be here. My brother is NOT supposed to be in that casket." The day after the funeral I went back to the grave and just stood there, staring at it, trying to make it sink in. But it wouldn't. That's denial. For me anyway.

The next day at church, anger hit me full force. I wasn't mad at Rusty. I was mad at God, not so much for allowing Rusty to die, but for allowing all the other stuff to happen that made it that much harder. (We had a couple of people show up behaving very inappropriately at the funeral, among other things.)I was angry for a lot of reasons. My pastor talked to me that morning, and I said everything one should probably not say to one's pastor: "I'm angry at God; I'm angry at all the stupid people that come out of the woodwork during something like this; I don't care if my anger hurts them. And, just to top it all off: I can't pray." (That last one I probably shouldn't include in a post on a network about prayer, either.) He was very loving, but also helped me understand why you can't stay in that place of anger. You have to choose to move from it.

Then there was depression. My least favorite stage. At least with anger you feel something. With depression, you just feel numb, listless, you don't care about anything. In the past, I had to be on medicine for depression, and so I recognized that stage as soon as I got there. I didn't care what I looked like. I didn't care about getting the kids' school work done. I just didn't care about anything. And I couldn't cry. That was the worst part. I wanted to cry, and I knew I needed to, but I couldn't. It was like a dam was holding back the tears.

But what I'm discovering is that they're not stages that are set in order. And just because I was angry 2 weeks ago doesn't mean I'm done with it. In fact, yesterday I had to deal with anger all over again. Just because I seem to be doing well this week does not mean I'm on the uphill path from now on. No, what I have discovered is that grief comes in waves.

The initial wave hits you at the moment of impact. For me, the moment my mom's words sunk in over the phone "Rusty's dead." was my moment of impact. For a moment, it loomed up in front of me, very large and terrifying, and then it crashed down over me and all around me, engulfing everything near and dear to me. In those first few days, that initial wave was all-consuming. I couldn't find my footing in the aftermath of that wave. If it had not been for the support of our friends and church families in those first days, we would not have been able to keep our heads above water.

The waves right after that all hit you with a cold, sharp impact that can take your breath away. But then, the waters ebb. The waves seem to stop. You're still standing in waist-deep water that you have to slog through, but at least you're able to gain your footing. You can take a deep breath. Maybe you're going to make it after all.

But now, 4 weeks later (gosh, can it really already be 4 weeks? How is that possible?), what I'm learning is that the waves still come. Sometimes they come one right after another. Sometimes they are spread out. Some of the waves are small and gently wash over you - you feel it's presence, but it's almost a comforting grief. (There's an oxymoron. But really, if you've lost a loved one, in those moments of acceptance of what's happened, you want to be sad. They are worth grieving over, and knowing that you're still feeling that is, in a way, comforting. It's sort of like a reassurance of the bond you had with them.) Other waves are strong and hit hard, knocking you off your feet all over again.

Anything can trigger these waves - whether it's a memory of the one you've lost, or suddenly realizing a particular dream has died with that person, or even just a disappointment that has nothing at all to do with your loss. From last Thursday through Sunday, I was having a succession of those hard waves that knock you off your feet. By Sunday, I was a wreck and cried more that day than any other day since Rusty died, I think. Then today, just as suddenly, those waves have subsided, and I'm trying to slog through just the "regular" grief.

But here's what I know. My Jesus has authority over these waves. He will not let them consume me when they wash over me. In fact, if I let Him, He may even teach me how to walk on them.
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