To my church family:

First of all, I want to thank those of you who have been Jesus’ hands and feet to me, my family, and my mom while we journey through her cancer diagnosis and treatment. You’ve brought meals. You’ve donated funds. You’ve given rides to our kids. You’ve come over and been an adult with them while they do school. You’ve taken on our grocery runs. You’ve prayed. You’ve met me at the hospital. I know we’re far from done, but thank you for your presence and help thus far.

It’s a horrible existence. Feels very hell-ish. A roller coaster. We’re facing death head-on. Fear, grief, anguish, deep darkness, numbness, intense pain, exhaustion, anger: they’re all there and all part of our daily life. The emotional/mental side combined with the physical side makes this season tremendously difficult. I keep trying to put it into words. Probably partly to express it so I may process it, and partly to help others understand.

I want to help others understand, because, sadly, some of my church family has been hurtful and insensitive. I say this with all the grace Jesus has given me, because I know their intentions are good. I know those who have hurt me have been trying to help. I know this because I have also been that person. Many times. In my ignorance, in my thoughtlessness, in my immaturity, I have said and done things (or failed to say or do things) to grieving, suffering, hurting people which have added to their burden instead of sharing it. I can see and hear the loving intention, too, in the midst of them hurting me, and I need to continue to forgive and extend grace. I don’t want to end there, however. With this blog post, I also want to extend some loving truth to help others improve in bearing burdens. This is something I wish I sought out years ago. I need to grow in loving grieving people, and learning how to bear their burdens, and I want to help others grow in burden-bearing.

My experience isn’t unique. As I’ve tentatively shared my pain with others, I’ve been met with multiple people who have gone through the same thing. One angel God sent me in the ICU had also been there previously with a family member in dire circumstances. As we were talking about “miserable comforters”, she laughingly observed, “Christians were the worst comforters” (just so you know, she and I are both Christians). One of her most painful moments was when someone asked her if she’s prayed about her painful situation, implying it must be painful because she hasn’t prayed about it yet, or perhaps she hadn’t prayed properly. Another friend said that the silence of people in her world hurt the most. A horribly painful one is asking if my mom has any unconfessed sin in her life, causing this cancer to spread. If you’ve ever read Job, perhaps you can recognize some patterns of what Job calls “miserable comforters”. The messages implied are, “it’s your fault”, or “I don’t care”. There are also ways our pain is minimized. “God is with you, so don’t be so sad.” “God is using this for good.” “Remember Jesus.” All true things, but so unhelpful and unfitting. Unfitting because these truths, given to me in a dark place, act as an attempt to prematurely pull me out of processing my pain and grief. Look through the Psalms and you’ll see plenty of grief and questioning. Those truths are things I might need to hear, but you won’t know unless you’ve listened to me and know where I am for more than just a few minutes. As Proverbs 12:18 says,

“There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.”

Those are the more obviously hurtful statements, or sword thrusts. Not surprisingly, there are also some subtler ones. It’s getting pretty easy to forgive and laugh at the obvious ones. It’s harder for me to deal with the subtle ones. Perhaps because there are much more of them. It’s one of the reasons I don’t want to come back to church. It’s not possible for me to go yet, anyway, but to be fully honest, I’m dreading it. I feel out of place. I feel unsafe. I feel additionally burdened when I go. I don’t doubt anyone’s intentions, but there are sword thrusts waiting for me, nonetheless. And since my current burden is so heavy, I don’t have much left to deal with additional burdens and pokes. On Sundays, I would so much rather come and be present and meet with God, and if possible, be supported by his people. I still want to come meet with God, but I’m struggling with his people, because instead of support, I feel additionally burdened by many sweet, wonderful, well-meaning people.

I’m going to share some of the subtle sword thrusts, and then share some things which have been healing to me.

Some subtle sword thrusts:

• Other people’s cancer stories. While this may seem like you’re trying to relate to me, in reality it distracts and takes away from our personal journey through cancer. As my mom said, though there are always similarities in cancer stories, every person’s journey through it is unique. Hearing about yours is an added burden at the time. I know you mean it to be encouraging, but it seems to make it about you, and I don’t have the capacity for that. It’s human nature to relate, but please understand it’s very unhelpful and adds to the already heavy burden I’m carrying.
• Telling me what worked for you in your hard season. Again, this relates to the previous point. You’re taking away from my personal journey and making it about you. You and I are completely different people. If we’re only talking on a Sunday morning, chances are we don’t know each other well at all. You don’t know my story, and I don’t know yours. What worked for you may not at all work for me, because we are unique individuals with unique stories. Perhaps there is a time to hear what worked for you, but now is not the time. Now I need a listening ear, or silent, empathetic presence. I need people who can pray for me, because I often don’t have the strength to pray. However, there is an exception to this. When this is offered from a trusted person who has listened, been present, acknowledged the difficulty, empathized with me, and knows me, this is very welcome. A family friend modeled this for me in letter form, sending me exactly what I needed to hear. It was from a place of seeking to help, from being present, listening and empathizing with me, and it was God-given encouragement. When given more randomly, from someone I don’t know well, it’s well-intended and burdensome.
• Asking questions about how I am doing or how Mom is doing. I’m glad you want to know how I am. If our relationship isn’t super close and we mainly interact on Sunday mornings, however, these questions add to my burden. Usually there are usually 10-15 people asking me the same thing in a very short time period. If I could walk into church, sit and be present just as I am, with tears running down my face, sitting down for worship because I don’t have the strength to stand, knowing I’m free not to sing because I don’t have the strength to, then I’d be fine. Sadly, that’s not been my experience yet. One Sunday there was a line of people waiting to see me and talk with me. While I appreciate that you care, and I could tell you did, answering how I am multiple times over to people who are not deeply invested in my life and grief adds to my burden. The deeply invested people are the ones who will be supporting me through this season. They’re the ones who have already been with me through hard seasons, through the ups and downs of life. They’re the ones who will ask me how I’m doing because they are already caring and supporting me.
• Giving advice. Copy and paste what I said above, but put in “giving advice” in place of “asking questions”. Usually my Sunday morning line-ups were mixed with both questions and well-meaning advice. Both of which tired me out immensely, and weren’t useful. As I write this, I’m reminded of something I read in “The Road Back to You” by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile. They write about the Enneagram, a tool used to help understand the various types of people in our world and how we think, process, operate well and poorly, etc. It was in the chapter about Fours (which I am). One of the strengths of a Four is that they are empathetic. On page 161, the author states, “Fours instinctively know how to honor and bear witness to the pain of others. They know there’s nothing they can do to help other than be in solidarity with you until whatever afflictive emotion you’re experiencing has finished its work in you. So when your dog needs to be put to sleep and you can’t bear the idea of going to the vet alone, don’t call a Two. They’ll show up with a casserole and a new puppy. Fours will drive you to the vet’s, stand alongside you and help hold the dog during those final moments, and give you nothing other than the ministry of their presence.” With that said, what I’ve been realizing is that many people with their strengths and weaknesses have been seeking to help us. We need help in many ways. If we only had casseroles, we’d be missing the emotional support. If we only had Fours coming over to cry with us and listen to us, we’d be starving and really dirty. In my current experience, church family seems to be really heavy on the casserole side, and really light on the “weep with those who weep” side. I don’t expect everyone to have the strength of a Four. However, we desperately need to grow as a church to learn how to better bear each other’s burdens and make a way for grieving, suffering people.
• Ignoring me. I have had people who I thought would be there, but have been silent. No texts, no words, no calls, no meals, nothing. Perhaps they react on social media to a post or a picture, but that’s it. Even hearing, “I don’t have any capacity to help, but please know I’m thinking of you” is better than silence. Or, “I don’t know what to say”, is a great thing to say. Doing or saying nothing is an additional sword thrust.

It’s not been all burdensome, though. Below are the few ways I’ve been helped emotionally by church family. Words and actions of healing. If these were more common, I would feel much more comfortable coming to church while I’m hurting.

Healing words & actions:

• Letting me walk into church without asking me any questions. Perhaps if we are not really close, leaving me alone on Sunday and helping in practical ways like meals or rides would be the best way you could support me.
• Telling me you’re praying for me. This doesn’t ask anything of me, but gives me something.
• Actually praying for me (please ask first!). And be sensitive. If there’s a line of people surrounding me, know that I’m most likely overwhelmed and wanting to escape. Stop and pray about whether to approach me. Ask God to search your heart. Are you approaching me because He’s leading you to, or are you seeking to do it for yourself? Satisfy curiosity? Make yourself feel better that you’re doing something? If so, that’s not what I need.
• Reading my mom’s caringbridge website if you are interested in how she is doing instead of asking me or Greg. Imagine needing to answer, “How is your mom doing?” 20 times before leaving the church building. Another friend of mine simply stopped going to church because she was continually asked about a traumatic event in her life, and reliving it multiple times in a morning was too much. If you read my mom’s updates, then you can say, “I read _________ and I’m praying for ___________.” This doesn’t ask anything from me and lets me know you care. https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/laurieshealthjourney2
• Listening. God wasn’t kidding when he said to be slow to speak and quick to listen. Some may assume this means asking me lots of questions, but you probably understand that I don’t mean that! Those who are already invested in my life have given me this space, and are listening to me. One friend in particular comes to mind who is out of state. She doesn’t ask anything of me, understands I’ll call when I can, and she listens without loading me up with advice. This takes strength. This requires taking on discomfort or pain on yourself. She doesn’t load me up with platitudes to relieve herself from that discomfort. She just bears it. That lifts a load off me.
• Empathy. This first requires listening (See my bullet point above). Putting yourself in my shoes and feeling some of my pain. Some wonderful people have done this for me. I have no idea what their belief system is, but they’ve been such a gift. One such person was my neighbor I happened to meet on a walk. She had lost her mother, and knew a friend with a similar cancer, and that knowledge and experience somehow didn’t lead into advice or questions, but empathy. She told me she knew how hard this season was. She cried. She hugged me. She said to reach out if I needed anything. The sweet dog she was walking actually gave me a hug from the back while she hugged me from the front. Hugely healing.
• Asking nothing of me. Reaching out to Greg if you have additional questions about how to help.
• Don’t expect me to respond to texts, phone calls or emails. Since I’m full to the brim, my spare time is usually spent sleeping, resting, eating, showering, or other life basics. I appreciate hearing from you, and I appreciate that you know I’ll reply when I can. Understanding that about me helps tremendously.
• Read some books about grief if you want to learn more. I’m currently walking through “Dark Waters, Deep Mercy” by Mark Vroegop. Greg recommends “Someone I Know is Grieving” by Ed Welch. In order to become a person who grieves with others well, it means doing a good amount of personal work.

We Christians can be miserable comforters. We can also grow to become wonderful, empathetic comforters. Don’t take it as any condemnation if you’re terrible at it. I certainly was. Yet by God’s grace, he’s making me more like him. In this season, he’s taking me through a crash course on grieving with my mom. The real trouble is if we self-protect, if we ignore, if we resist him, if we are prideful and don’t see any need for change or growth in us. Then that’s cause for concern.

If you are terribly brave, ask people who know you, particularly people who are suffering or have suffered, what has helped them in their pain, and what has made it worse. Listen. Be open to God pointing out where you are weak and need to grow. And please, for the sake of the gospel, and for the sake of hurting people, please seek to learn how to grieve well and bear each other’s burdens well.

Of course, I am speaking to my own experience. It’s very likely this isn’t every grieving person’s story. It’s only one. However, enough stories have come my way that makes me think I’m not alone. I have a feeling many hurting people would come out of the woodwork and come to know Jesus through his church if we grew in empathy. I have a feeling there are more hurting people who haven’t felt comfortable in church or welcome to come as they are. Not because they lack faith in God, but because sometimes his people bring sword thrusts instead of healing. Or sometimes, because there isn’t space made for them. I firmly believe Jesus loves his church. I’m not going to leave because I’ve gotten hurt. Family doesn’t do that. Family sticks it out through the pain and insensitivity. Family gives grace to one another and seeks to build each other up. I’m going to stick with my family and go the more difficult and more rewarding route, and try to be part of the growth. Jesus said, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” I hope and pray the church becomes more and more of a place where the heavy-laden can experience God’s rest through his people.

If Mom’s health allows, I hope to see my church family in March. If I sneak in and sneak out, you’ll know why 🙂

We’re on Day 8 of home care for Mom after discharge from the hospital. Things have settled into somewhat of a routine. One of the things I’ve realized in this season of surgery recovery is that most of my time and energy as caregiver are devoted to keeping Mom’s meds, feedings, and wound care on schedule, and communicating with the various members of her care team (surgery, PT, OT, to name a few). I have very little time to process any feelings of my own. When people ask how I’m doing, the most honest answer I have right now is “I don’t know.” And if I do try to start figuring out how I am, it feels like opening the door to a floodgate of feelings that don’t have names yet, and I don’t have the energy to feel them and name them.

Mom needs food, water, or meds around the clock currently: 1am, 7am, 10am, 11:30am, 1pm, 3:30pm, 7pm, and 9pm. She’s working on building up her strength post-hospital stay in order to be able to shower, dress, walk safely, and eventually feed herself through her PEG tube. It reminds me of the time in ICU: the changes seem very small and unremarkable, then before you know it, you’re out of ICU and on the regular floor talking about discharge. Time appears to move slowly and more quickly.

We have a mother-in-law apartment in our home, which is where Mom and I are living currently until she’s able to be self-sufficient. It’s one of the reasons we bought the house we did: we wanted it to be a place where we could house people who needed it, mother and mother-in-law in mind. Obviously we didn’t realize when this would happen or that we would need it so soon. I was imagining empty teenage rooms and sweet, gray-haired women who needed their children to care for them. Instead it’s my youthful, 63-year-old mother who gets mistaken as my sister (obviously I don’t age as well as she does!), because cancer is attacking her. While this isn’t how I pictured it, this is what Greg and I wanted to do. And thanks to God and all the people helping, we’re doing it.

There are a few moments I’m able to get away and do some self-care. As so many people have told me: taking care of myself is taking care of Mom. I go for walks in our neighborhood for exercise, I take showers, I sleep when I can, and yesterday I got to connect with Greg for a few minutes. The kids come down and say hello every so often, have a movie night with Grandma or play card games. Greg brings me my meals and comes down often to wash syringes and cups for me (I go through many of those each day). We’ve had multiple people offering their time to come hang out with our kids during their homeschool hours during the mornings, along with meals, rides for Grace to and from ballet, housecleaning, volunteer caregivers to give me breaks, grocery shoppers, and probably so many other things I’m forgetting. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

After Mom recovers from surgery, it sounds like her oncologist is recommending chemo and radiation. So this season right now is temporary. I’m learning to be grateful for every minute I get with her, and working on the guilty feelings I have when I leave her or take time for myself. My cancer caregiver support group has been a tremendous help already. They live in this world which I have trouble describing, and the freedom to be honest with others who get it is a gift. It’s also scary. Today in group, we were talking about the “cave of death”, looking at what many of us and our person are facing. This really is a valley of death. One member who came on today just lost his wife. Another has a spouse who has terminal brain cancer and knows the end is coming at some point, just don’t know when. Others have people in treatment or in remission. I’m the new kid on the block, as Mom got diagnosed so recently compared with others who have been here for years.

While scary to face the possibility you never want to see happen, we also talked about how weirdly helpful it is. Being able to know death isn’t the end. Suffering doesn’t get the last word. I read Habakkuk this morning, and wow, did it ever speak to me. Especially 3:16. I don’t have time to get into it (I think I wrote a whole post in my journal on Habakkuk), but this part is what God spoke to me.

I hear, and my body trembles;
    my lips quiver at the sound;
rottenness enters into my bones;
    my legs tremble beneath me.
Yet I will quietly wait for the day of trouble
    to come upon people who invade us.

From that I heard I’m in good company with the prophet. It’s okay that my body trembles when I see my mom suffer. It’s okay that my lips quiver when I think that she might never get to see her grandchildren grow up. It’s okay that rottenness enters my bones when I watch cancer ravage her body. It’s okay that my legs tremble beneath me when I wonder how I can do another day. Yet. Yet, one day cancer will be irradicated. Yet, one day, my mom’s body will be fully renewed. Yet, one day, Jesus will come and will finally cast out all sin and sickness and death and struggle, and the glory waiting for us isn’t worth comparing to the suffering we’re going through. Habakkuk was told that the righteous will live by faith. That point, “yet”, is where my faith comes into play. It takes faith to go through the valley, believing the valley isn’t the end. Habakkuk needed to watch an evil people come ravage the Israelites. And in the previous verses, God told Habakkuk that this valley of his wasn’t the end. The Chaldeans would eventually see God’s judgment for their evil. Would God take away the evil day coming for his people? No. Yet the valley isn’t the end. Habakkuk put his faith in God while experiencing the gap suffering creates between who God says he is and the evil we experience. We see his faith in action as he says he will wait quietly for the day when the most awful wrongs will be made right. The book ends with this song:

Though the fig tree should not blossom,
    nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
    and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
    and there be no herd in the stalls,
 yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
    I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
 God, the Lord, is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the deer’s;
    he makes me tread on my high places.

To the choirmaster: with stringed^[d] instruments.

God the Lord is my strength in this valley. God the Lord will give me what I need. And because he is my shepherd, I shall not want. Even if my worst nightmares come true. Even if my mom dies a horrible, painful death. It won’t be the end. Death doesn’t have the final say, because Jesus conquered death. My mom’s life is tied to his. Since he rose, she will. That’s our final hope. And this is worth repeating: having this hope does not take away the pain of the valley. Jesus didn’t cry out on the cross as he experienced the intense pain of death by torture and separation from God: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!” Or “God is for me!” Or “Hallelujah!”. He cried out a psalm of lament, Psalm 22. In his suffering, he cried out why. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Don’t take that away from us grieving people. Let us grieve like our Savior did. Let us cry out while we bear our cross. It doesn’t mean we don’t believe in our final hope of resurrection life. It means we’re grieving. And our suffering Savior is so near to those in the valley.

And so we begin. On the edge of two seasons: almost done waiting and almost ready for surgery. I’ve handed off and prepared everything I could in order to be fully present with Mom through the next phase of surgery and recovery. I’m humbled and grateful for the dozens of people who have picked up various parts in order to support our family so I’m free to do this, and for the community supporting Mom.

There are further seasons to this cancer journey, but I can’t see past the one step ahead of me. The ironic thing is that we often fool ourselves into thinking we can indeed see many steps ahead, yet we can’t. Nothing is guaranteed. I have a new understanding that I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I do know the One who holds all things together. So I may wail, but I won’t despair. I may be struck down, but I’m not destroyed. I may be sorrowful, and I will hopefully learn to rejoice. As Christians, our bodies hold the death and life of Jesus simultaneously. It seems counterintuitive, or flat out impossible at first, but it matches where we are in God’s story. Sealed with the Holy Spirit, yet waiting for final salvation from God’s wrath. Adopted, yet waiting for the arrival to our new home. Made fully, positionally righteous, yet struggle with sin daily, waiting for our righteousness to be made perfect. Seeing in a mirror dimly now, and one day seeing fully.

My strong emotions don’t mean I don’t trust God. They mean I do. I trust him enough to feel them and to bring them to him. I used to live very shut off from my feelings. God has continually called me out of that numbness because it was self-protecting, and in so doing, self-harming. I was living as if I knew best, and distancing myself from God, thinking how terrible he was at protecting me from pain. Yet I was keeping myself from the very One I needed most in my pain. You see, I didn’t realize the truth of being a Christian that Jesus reminded us of often in Scripture. You need to take up your cross and follow him (Luke 14). Provided we suffer with him in order that we might be glorified with him (Romans 8). Through many tribulations we will enter the kingdom of God (Acts 14).

There are moments I feel God’s word to be true. And there are moments His promises feel very hollow, as a friend so aptly put it. If my faith were based on my feelings, I’d have stopped believing in Jesus a long time ago. No, he’s the anchor when my feelings toss me around. I need God himself, and I need a God who is great, wise, powerful, just, good, steadfast, loving, and holy, to name a few, more than me or any other human or created thing is able to be.

I’m in a storm, and I’m going to cry out. Jesus isn’t asking me to just grit my teeth and bear it. He isn’t asking me to recite Bible verses about how good he is. He isn’t asking me to put a smile on and fake it til I make it. If he’s really God, Creator of the Universe, Savior of all who trust in him, dead and risen again, Lord of everything, holding the universe together with the word of his power, King of kings and God of gods, and if he really is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit, if he really is for me and has engraved my name on the palm of his hands, if he really will walk with me through the fire and flood, then I will be brokenhearted. Then I will be crushed in spirit. Then I will enter the fire and flood. Then I will cry out. Let’s see if he really is, and really will. I’ll keep you posted.

It’s been five weeks. On Monday, November 20, we got the results from my mom’s biopsy on a growing lesion & lump on her tongue that she has cancer. This came after months of issues with this lesion, and multiple misdiagnoses as she sought help for it. Even writing that it’s been five weeks (almost six) feels surreal. It feels like a previous lifetime ago. I went from thinking “my mom just needs to find the right Dr to figure out what’s going on and get her the right medication so she’ll be back to normal”, to “our lives have changed and will never be the same again.” In so many ways.

I’m my mom’s primary caregiver. It’s an honor to be that for her. As some of you know and some of you can imagine, there’s been very little time for me to process this news personally. Reasons for this are:

1. The overall time from her diagnosis to where we are today is so short for the amount of work needing to be done and grief, pain and suffering felt.
2. We have four children ages 4-11, and we homeschool them.
3. Thanksgiving & Christmas.
4. Mom’s health seems to be rapidly changing and her needs increasing rapidly as well.

We are 7 days from her initial treatment of surgery, and I’m sensing it’s time to write and do some processing for myself, as well as to share with the people who are far away and more disconnected from my reality but care all the same and are keeping us upheld in prayer. My mom is journaling throughout her process on this caringbridge website, which you can check and follow if you want her health updates. https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/laurieshealthjourney2

The words that come to mind to describe how I’ve been feeling and what I’ve been experiencing are all over the board. Confusing. Heart-breaking. Helpless. Angry. Broken. Overwhelmed. Devastated. Grieving. Hurting. There is no rhyme or reason to grief. There is no schedule. I find myself falling apart in the car most often, probably because it’s the only place I am alone. One day a few weeks in I was pulling into Fred Meyer’s parking lot for my weekly grocery run, and “Even If” came on the radio by Mercy Me. That was the first good ugly sob session I had with God. No tissues in the car, of course, and I was on a time schedule to get home, so yes, I went shopping with an inflamed red nose and puffy eyes and a snotty sleeve on my coat, and got a few weird looks. I couldn’t care less.

Then there are times when I can’t fall apart, though everything inside me feels like it’s breaking. Sitting in my mom’s oncologist/surgeon’s office, receiving the news that she will need a glossectomy, reconstruction of her tongue from a portion of her arm or leg, removal of her neck lymph nodes, a trach and G-tube, loss of regular speech, no guarantee of much after the surgery because so much is unknown, was probably the microcosm of what this looks like for me being Mom’s caregiver. I feel as if I’m dying inside, yet my mom has been hit by this shocking news and needs me to be strong for her. So I took notes, asked questions, wrote everything down so we could remember outside of the shock of the moment, and found space later on to cry. One time I was able to cry with my mom about the news. More often I’m finding she’s leaning on me for the strength she doesn’t have due to lack of sleep, increased pain levels, emotional distress with facing this upcoming surgery and her unknown future.

This is all new to me. I’ve never walked with a close family member or friend through cancer. I’ve never known anyone with tongue cancer before. I’m learning in leaps and bounds what it means to be someone’s primary caregiver. As one of our social workers put it, taking care of Melissa is taking care of Laurie. Apparently I need my own support system to help carry my mom through this. I knew I did, but having our social worker and others who have been a caregiver confirm it has been so helpful. Part of the last few weeks has been slowly building that care team up. Finding the friends who can listen and support me. Connecting with a cancer caregiver support group. Organizing rides and care for our kids. Putting a meal registry together (we’re a vegan family, y’all! How difficult is that? Yet people are signing up for meals!). Talking with other caregivers. I’ve been particularly encouraged by Beth, one of my mom’s old friends from my childhood Vermont days, who has been an ongoing caregiver for her disabled daughter for as long as I’ve known her. She gave me words of life that felt like drinking from a pure well of water after a marathon in the desert. They came from her experience, from her own valleys and tears and grief, from the comfort and wisdom she’s received from God, and I am so humbled that God made a way for me to sit and receive them.

I’ve also learned some painful lessons. There are a few exceptions to this, but both Mom and I have experienced that many of us simply don’t know how to walk with someone through deep pain and grief. Our culture isn’t equipped to do so well. Even speaking from a Christian perspective, the church doesn’t know how to do this well. And I don’t know how to do this well. I can’t tell you how shocking it was to go from one Sunday at church, not grieving, to the next Sunday at church, grieving, and see the difference. It’s as if I had lenses taken off and I saw the situation more clearly. I felt so out of place. I felt like I didn’t belong. Like one Sunday I could see and the next Sunday I was blind, and I realized the whole church service and way we do life together caters only to the seeing people. Not because the people don’t care, but because they’re not blind. They haven’t thought about what it’s like to be blind. They haven’t given it much thought because they haven’t had to. Previously, I certainly didn’t. I had experienced deep pain, but not to this level. When someone I knew was suffering, I remember well my multiple reactions: discomfort, helplessness, not knowing what to say or do, glad I wasn’t going through what they were going through, would tell them I would pray for them, and I would, but overall I remember a basic lost-ness. I didn’t know how to join someone in their grief, and sadly, I didn’t seek to learn.

Now I understand better. None of us choose deep suffering and grief. It comes upon you when it does. And you walk differently. You do life differently. You’ve changed. To follow my analogy above, you’re blind. And it’s not going to change. I can’t go back to who I was. I never will. So how can we learn to open our doors to all people, not just the seeing people? How can we make space for deeply grieving people? How can we learn to weep and mourn well together? To lament, which I’m learning is grief directed to God? I could make a list of things that have not been helpful and what has been helpful thus far, but perhaps another time. Everyone I have talked with or interacted with as I’ve been “blind” has had wonderful intentions, and I see that. At some point I would love to help us grow in joining each other in our grief and sorrow.

So here we are. I want to close with giving you an idea of what my days are looking like and what we’re heading toward. For my Jesus-loving friends, please keep my mom and all of us in your prayers. She’s going through what I consider as close to hell on earth as she’s going to get. She’s in constant pain. Her pain meds keep her at a 6-7 level at best (and yes, I’ve been messaging and calling and on top of the pain management discussion with her care team). This type of pain is normal for oral cancer at her level, so sadly she just has to make it through as best she can on her current pain meds (she’s on three right now). We don’t know the stage of her cancer yet, but should in a couple weeks when her pathology report from surgery gets back. What we do know is that she went from being able to talk clearly to not being understood in a matter of three weeks. Her tongue is now mostly immobilized. She’s on a liquid diet of puddings and protein shakes. Eating and drinking are a struggle. We’ve just received bloodwork back that shows she may be dehydrated, so tomorrow’s adventure is getting her IV fluids. She’s not able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time. As you can imagine, the lack of sleep, emotional turmoil, implications of the cancer, and pain are playing a huge number on her ability to cope and her rational thinking. Her surgery date is 1/5, and it will be a 6+ hour surgery in the OR, removing whatever portion of her tongue that contains cancer, and reconstructing a mound of tissue where her tongue was, along with the lymph node removal and feeding tube & trach placement. Her hospital stay should be 7-10 days depending on her recovery, and then if she’s well enough, she’ll come live with us while I take over her home care. She may have a trach and G-tube in at that point, so I’ll be trained on how to feed her and maintain her trach. Because so much of this surgery is dependent on what is currently going on in her body, we don’t know how long her recovery will take. Best guess is 4-6 weeks out from 1/5, she’ll start radiation. Right now so much of my days are getting ready for me being with Mom full-time, organizing life for our home to run without me for at least January, communicating on Mom’s behalf with Drs and other appointments, and helping her through one day at a time.

So with all that said, this is my new season. This is my new normal. The bad dream that doesn’t go away has started to feel like my everyday life. It feels a little less shocking than the first few weeks, but every day gives us something new. I’m learning that helplessness is a normal feeling for the caregiver of someone with cancer. It’s a most awful thing to watch someone you love suffer and to not be able to alleviate it.

Some descriptions of this new season:

1. I’ve never been on my phone so much in my life.
2. I’m having very intense and weird dreams.
3. I’ve learned that you can feel Christmas joy and dreadful agony in the same day.
4. Mom and I can still tap dance together.
5. I am capable of doing hard things, things I never thought I could do.
6. Crying out to God really does help, even when circumstances don’t change. He changes you.
7. The suffering “blind” people make themselves known, and they surround you with all the love and prayer and presence that your soul needs. They just know what to do and say and not say, because they’ve lived it. It reminds me of how Paul says that we can comfort others in their affliction with the comfort we’ve received in ours. I’ve received that comfort. Thank you to our faithful comforters, and for reaching out to us while you are still hurting, too. I want to be like you.
8. I’ve discovered there’s a whole other type of music out there for grieving and lamenting people, and I love it. It’s what my soul needs to hear, not that peppy stuff right now.
9. I really married up. My husband has been a rock through this whole thing.
10. Life is so short and unpredictable and out of our hands. There really is a whole level of peace I’m experiencing knowing that God is holding all things together, even though I have no idea how he will bring good out of something so horrific. This is faith in action, being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see. I don’t see how God is good right now. I don’t see how he loves my mom. I don’t see why he doesn’t just lift this burden since he’s capable of doing it, and he isn’t doing it. So I cry out to him and I work to trust who he says he is when I don’t see it or feel it. I think that’s faith. If I didn’t believe in him, I wouldn’t cry out to him.

If you want to help us with any meals, we’d really welcome them. PM me for the link.

If God prompts you to help in other ways, feel free to reach out to Greg or myself. I will not be very available for awhile, so Greg is probably your best bet.

Until next time. Thank you for reading and caring and for being part of our lives. It’s really impossible to do this alone, and a big part of how you can help and walk with me right now is the acknowledgment of my pain. I’m “blind”. It doesn’t help to have anyone ignore that or gloss over it. I’ve changed. I’m in it. Knowing you see me and you hear me is tremendously helpful. I don’t need advice or your story of how it all worked out for you. Maybe I will at some point, but not now. I need what one dear sister offered me on Christmas Eve. She saw me, came up to me, told me her heart was aching for me, and she prayed. She had been through this valley in her own life, but she didn’t tell us all about it. She was present with us, she cried with us, she prayed with us, and hugged us. One of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.

Last year I wrote a blog post about why my husband and I are choosing to stay in our city while many current Christians have left it for various reasons. This is a continuation of something I wrote in that post. My hope is that this relates to and helps anyone identifying as a Christian who is struggling to live where they are living, due to the “darkness” or the difficulties that arise in a city that rejects what God says. Particularly to those raising families in a place where Christians are few, I hope to encourage you where you are.

For definition’s sake, at some point I need to define what I mean by “Christian”. That word has many connotations to it and has been used and misused ad nauseum. For this post’s sake and for the sake of those reading this who have their own filter of what Christian means, I’ll attempt a one-sentence definition, one I would tell a child. A Christian is one whose greatest treasure is Jesus Christ, who lived, died, and rose in order to save and redeem anyone who puts their trust in him.

The question at hand today for my Christian friends is this: why stay in a godless city? Why raise a family in a place that holds values opposite to the Bible? Why stay when laws are unjust and unwise? Why stay when the schools are suffering and teaching a political agenda? Why stay when the darkness is so….well…..dark? The short answer is: we stay because it’s dark! Hopefully I will unpack that further and provide a launching point for some robust conversations. If you live near me, I’d love to grab some coffee with you and chat some more about it.

I recently came back from a workshop in downtown Seattle, equipping women teachers in biblical exposition. It was like three days of fresh air. We met new faces and heard about what God is doing in various churches in the area. We joked and laughed together about the ridiculous (and very humanly relatable!) characters in the Old Testament stories we were reading, because we could see ourselves in Saul’s excuses to Samuel. We cried together. We worshiped our risen King together. Being with other sisters in Christ who love and worship Jesus with you was invigorating, refreshing, and life-giving. In some ways I just wanted the sweet time of fellowship and training to continue. It felt really good being with other people who believe the same thing I do.

Perhaps I’m not alone. Have you also felt that way? Honestly, as a Christian, looking forward to the glory coming, our resurrected bodies, seeing Jesus FINALLY, worshipping him with no sin and no brokenness, fully redeemed creation….it’s no wonder when we get together that we love it and want more. We like being surrounded by other Christians. It’s comforting and encouraging. It’s also necessary for the building up of our faith (Hebrews 10:25 being one of many examples). However, it’s not the only piece. It’s not the only thing we were called to do and to be. Jesus also commanded all his disciples to be witnesses to him in all places and to all people (Matthew 28). We’re a sent people with a witness to Jesus.

With that in mind, we need to ask a question. Who is your Lord? Meaning who has the right and authority to tell you what to do with your life? Whose word has final say in your heart? If you claim to be a follower of Jesus, that means Jesus is not only our Savior but our Lord, and in being our Lord he has the ultimate authority to tell us what to do. A sign of our love for God is our obedience (John 15, “If you love me, you will obey my commands.”). This doesn’t mean we will never disobey, but it means our deepest desire is to do what Jesus commands, and when we fail to do so, we repent and try again. If Jesus is our Lord, our lives are no longer ours anymore (Galatians 2:20). our lives must be submitted wholly to him for his purpose. His commands are our very joy to obey. His word is our utmost priority. Who and what he values and loves is who and what we must value and love. What he hates we must hate. And when his commands and word rubs us the wrong way and reveal the idols in our heart, we must lay them down. We can’t serve both God and ________.

What does this have to do with living in a dark place, or raising a family in said dark place? Over the last couple years, I’ve become aware of a group of people identifying as Christian who are mourning and grieving that the US is no longer a Christian nation. They are saddened by the lack of love for God and desire to live in his ways. They pull their kids out of school because of their concerns over what children are being taught. Some believe the answer is the right president, or better laws. Some believe the answer is to homeschool and raise up a Christian generation to “take this country back” (just so you know, this is not why we have chosen to homeschool!). Some believe they need to prepare the more conservative parts of the country for what’s coming. Some are moving away from the darkness into places that still look or seem “Christian”, or perhaps more accurately, conservative (which does not equal Christian). It doesn’t take long reading the gospel accounts of Jesus’ life to understand that he united people of differing races, along with social & political beliefs, and this includes our red and blue bubbles today.

I can understand the grief and the fear these people have experienced. I share many of their concerns, particularly the ones regarding the quality of our educational systems. As a Christian, it’s hard to live alongside sin. In some ways, the brokenness should grieve us. But according to God’s story laid out in Scripture, culminating in Jesus,, it should grieve us toward the lost, not to a political agenda or a “save the country” campaign. Jesus’ good news is salvation for sinners, not salvation for the United States of America, or for the US to be a Christian nation.

If your heart is grieved over the state of your city, or your country, take a moment and consider your response to the darkness around you. Consider what your response reveals about your heart. Do you ultimately want the lost to be saved, or do you simply want to live in a country which holds the same values as you do? Do you ache for God’s kingdom to come to the unredeemed, or do you ache for your world to be a comfortable, Christian-ese one? Now, to be clear, that ache to live as God intended us to do is good! It’s wonderful when laws reflect God’s heart and will. And it will be fulfilled, praise God. At the end of the age. For eternity. We need to recognize that laws don’t change people’s hearts; the transforming work of the Holy Spirit does. Right now our command from Jesus is not to make a Christian nation, but to make disciples. Look to the heroes in Hebrews 11. They died in faith, not having received that which was promised to them, but greeted it from afar. They lived as sojourners on this earth, still waiting for their homeland. Because we already have a homeland and an inheritance waiting for us there, now is the time to pursue people and invite them to that homeland. They are God’s image bearers, heading for destruction and unaware of the God who loves them so much he gave up his Son to win them back. And so many of them don’t know him because Christians aren’t inconveniencing themselves to love and welcome the lost into their lives, homes, and churches to introduce them to Jesus.

As we consider our heart’s response to the sin and darkness around us, it may be that idols of country and nation, our idea of comfortably living in a “Christian” nation, state or city, are being revealed. If Christians are moving away from darkness instead of into it, I wonder if we’ve forgotten who we are, and who we serve, and under whose authority we live. I wonder if we’ve lost our purpose. I wonder if Jesus were walking among us if we’d find ourselves on the side of the religious do-gooders who wanted nothing to do with him because he was eating and drinking with the social outcasts and sinners of the day. I wonder if we actually love him, or we love something else instead. God may be loving us right now by revealing the sinfulness of people claiming Christ while huddling together and failing to go out and feed the lost the Bread of Life. Being theologically right is nothing if we are not also just as loving, as Jesus so beautifully demonstrated both grace and truth. The harvest is plentiful. There are so many lost people who need the gospel of Jesus Christ! What we need are laborers.

If we have the heart of God, we then have a heart for the lost. We are not surprised by people’s godlessness and sin. We expect lost people, and we go and serve and love and share Jesus with them. And while you find lost people everywhere, guess where a lot of them are: dark places! Isn’t a dark place where so many people don’t know and love God exactly where a Christian should be?

Parents, isn’t this a great location in which to raise your kids? They get to see your faith in action as you love your neighbor, as you be his witness, as you have the gay couple next door over for dinner to build relationship, as you pray with and for people, as you minster to the homeless, as you volunteer your time to help your city, as you work with the public schools to be Jesus’ presence with the kids and families, as you pray for opportunities to talk with your coworkers, as you strive for racial reconciliation in the community, as you grieve with the hurting and listen to them. In a spiritually dark place, it’s a wonderful opportunity to teach your kids what it looks like to be a Christian. Kids are smart. If they see being a Christian as Sunday attendance, youth group or Sunday school, prayers before meals, rote “Christian” things to do while your life doesn’t match the words preached on Sunday or the life Jesus called us to live, they will notice. They’re experts at identifying hypocrisy. And if they’re smart, they’ll want nothing to do with it.

Kids need to learn to love others who are different from them. They need continual opportunities to do so, to practice and then debrief with parents who love them and are doing the same thing. This is not possible if you seek to surround yourself only with others who think like you. Sometimes in trying to protect our children we fail to equip them. Growing children are not mature yet. Of course they need our protection. And they also need our example, our instruction, and ultimately our release as they grow. We need to them make decisions and choices and experience the consequences. Ultimately, my point for parents is the fruit of living a Christ-like faith in front of them is priceless. Sadly, a lot of kids raised in a Christian home learn more about categorizing people (“us & them”), to huddle perpetually with like-minded people, to go to church and do good things, but in doing all this they miss Jesus. I’ve heard many a testimony of someone raised in church but didn’t know Jesus. In a dark place, where Christians are rare, it’s very hard for that to happen. You don’t get comfortable benefits for being a Christian in spiritually dark places. Just like Jesus does with his upside-down kingdom, the darkness and hardships tend to build a stronger, deeper faith in Jesus.

I’m not saying we should go at this alone. God did not design us to live in a “Jesus and me” type of relationship. God saved us into a family, and made us to flourish within a community of others whose Lord and Savior is also Jesus. We need to encourage and be encouraged, reminders of truth, correction when we’re off, teaching of God’s word, rebuke when we’re in sin. We can’t walk with Jesus alone. In order to be part of the body, we need to live as part of a body. What I am saying is that we need to be aware of all that Jesus told us to do, not just part. We need solid theology and solid outreatch. We need to become aware of our blind spots, our idols, and our weaknesses and ask God for a heart of repentance and growth. We need to ask God to give us his values and heart for lost people. This will hurt, by the way. I’ve prayed that prayer, and if you are brave enough to do so, it will break your heart. And it will also move you into a deeper, more intimate, more joy-filled, more glorious existence than one chasing comforts or other lesser things.

As Jesus united people of differing social and political beliefs with his kingdom good news (which we don’t have to dig very deeply into the New Testament to see that he did), then I argue that Jesus’ kingdom good news is greater than our biases or social/political convictions. If his good news of salvation is for all people, and our eternal dwelling with God is secure, then I argue where we live now does not matter nearly as much as how we live where we are. If our call as Christians and our command from Jesus is to make disciples, then I argue we should seek to do that wherever we find ourselves. In particular, if we understand God’s heart for the lost, we see a dark place and instead of running from people “because they don’t believe what I believe”, or “they aren’t living the way God commands us to live,” it should prompt us to run toward them. What movie or great story has the hero running away from the brokenness of the world? If Frodo never took the ring to Mordor “because he would encounter a lot of enemies along the way”? If medics on the battlefield stayed in their foxholes while their comrades bled? The most important example is Jesus. What if he never came to the broken? What if he had never come to find you to bind you up and bring you salvation? Thank God, he did.

As I close, I want to recall the beginning of the book of Acts. We’ve been reading Acts together as a family during the mornings. Many Christians fled out of Jerusalem in the days of the early church, when persecution rose through Saul and others, and their lives were in danger. God used this to spread the gospel to others who had never heard it, particularly the non-Jews. Not knowing their heart condition and motivations for leaving, I can’t speak more to their fleeing, other than to say I trust God is at work in every movement on this planet to continue bringing his kingdom. Praise God, he works his will through every one of our successes and failures, and he will complete his word. Perhaps the best thing that could happen to our country is the end of us being a “Christian nation”, and the rejection of hypocritical Christianity in our culture. This darkness spreading from coast to coast could spark true, living, abiding, fruit-bearing faith in Jesus, and rid us of religiosity, our idols of politics and nation and comfort. Persecution spread the gospel for the new church. Maybe a spiritual revival is coming, just not in the way we had expected. Perhaps the best thing we can do to “prepare” is to begin by bending our knees and ask God to search our hearts. Repent for the ways we have failed to live with Jesus as our Lord, and surrender any idols we have been carrying. Then pray earnestly for more laborers for the harvest, and for God’s heart for the lost. Let’s surrender it all for Jesus, as he did for us. Let’s inconvience ourselves for him. Let’s give it all for him. Then let’s see where God takes us.

There is an exodus that has been happening throughout the last couple years. Perhaps you know of it. You may be on the leaving end, or the receiving end. Maybe you are one who has left, or one who has stayed.

Speaking personally, as a resident of the Pacific Northwest, we are from an area from which a lot of people are leaving. It has become so common in my circles to move that I have been asked multiple times if our family is moving, too. One reason I am writing this particular post is to state clearly our intent and our heart behind it. Spoiler alert: we are staying. Another reason I am writing is to encourage those who are staying to continue fighting the good fight and to endure hard times for the sake of God’s kingdom.

*Disclaimer to those of you who may not yet know this about me: I am a Christian, and this specific blog post is directed to other Christians. What I say may not make much sense to you, but I welcome you here and thank you for reading. Please continue reading if you’d like; “try on” what I am saying. My door is always open if you want to talk more about what I believe and why.

So we are staying. Objective #1 of this post is completed. Objective #2 is to answer why. Why stay? I can certainly relate to and understand many of our friends’ reasons for moving. The top three I’ve heard are as follows: Financial. Political. Family-related. The cost of living in Seattle is quite high. Many of the politics and handling of COVID oppose what our friends (and us at times) believe is right. They wish for a safer place to raise their children, one where most of the people around them value what they value. There are other reasons, but these are the most common ones I have heard. As I said, I can relate. It is getting harder to live here. The darkness seems like it’s pressing in and getting personal. It’s not “out there” anymore; it’s affecting our children, our neighborhood, our schools, our finances. Recently I got to travel to Portland and chat with many women from various churches in Oregon, and I heard much of the same. People have been feeling the shift, and some are choosing to leave.

So why stay? No, it’s not because of the scenery or weather, the restaurants or cultural opportunities. It’s not because we agree with all the laws, decisions, and values of our area. Yes, we’ve certainly been given the freedom and opportunity to move somewhere else, where the politics are more in line with our beliefs, where our children can have acreage to roam and play freely, where we get more bang for our buck than we do here. Why stay when it’s hard? Just like our friends who have a combination of reasons to move, we have a combination of reason we stay.

1. We stay because it’s hard.

That may seem like a weird reason, or a sick one, where we stay because we enjoy difficulty and pain. No, we’re not as sadistic as that. We don’t like pain or challenge more than the average American, but God has grown us to understand that our character, our faith, our ability to endure and persevere, our love; in short, the fruits we want in our lives have been formed through difficulty. In Luke 9:23-24 (NLT), Jesus says this:

Then he said to the crowd, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it.”

There are many other examples in God’s word of this. The point is this: we Christians know that in order to follow Jesus, we must also take the path of suffering and rejection, even to the point of death. Our lives are not our own anymore. All the other things we wanted to pursue before Christ are now secondary, tertiary, or submitted to the will of God instead of our will. We must give up our own way. And when our hearts are overtaken with the beauty and majesty of our Savior, this is just what we want to do, with great joy. Specifically in our context, we’re not facing death for our beliefs in the US. However, if the people around us deride us, exclude us, judge us, or hate us for loving what God loves and hating what He hates, we are walking Jesus’ path after him and have eternal cause to rejoice. Yes, it’s hard to live here as a Christian, and the very fact that it is hard to live here due to our faith tells me we’re doing something right.

2. We stay because we are a minority.

As you will see, there are overlaps in our reasons. This reason is a continuation of Reason #1 above. Consider the context of the early Christian church after Jesus’ ascension, which is the context of Acts, the epistles, and even Revelation. The early Christians were quite a minority in their culture. Rome certainly did not govern solely by biblical principles. Churches were scattered (by persecution) throughout a world that believed in many gods; small pockets of believers within a society that didn’t understand them. Now consider God’s people in OT context. I know that’s quite a spread, but to throw some names out there to get you thinking: Noah, Abraham, the Israelites in Egypt, their receiving of the Promised Land during Joshua’s time, the Babylonian exile, the return to Jerusalem. Is there a time God’s people were the majority in their context?

While it is a good and holy ache to be with other believers, and a necessary part of walking in faith and building each other up, we are also not meant to all huddle together in the same place. At some point, we need to leave the huddle and get in the game. I’ve seen too many times this “huddling” has led not to mission but to judgment and a critical spirit, looking at the people who don’t live and think like they should, rather than being God’s instrument of change, love, mercy, grace and truth. We were meant to be sent out all over the world, to be Jesus’ witnesses, to be salt and light. The very fact that there are not many Christians here encourages us to dig in, be involved in our community, and be a channel of God’s presence & hope to a hurting, lost and blind world.

3. We stay because we feel the darkness increasing.

Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? Even as I write it, I feel as if I’m painting a portrait of us living vicariously in a superhero story where we as Captain America and Thor are fighting Thanos in the dark, hopeless wreckage of the Avengers headquarters. No, the battle in which we are engaged is even more profound than Endgame. Our enemy is real, yes. He is Satan, the devil, and he is furious, knowing his time is short. His target is those who hold to the testimony of Jesus and keep his commandments (Rev. 12). Though he is furious and making war against the church, God also shows us in Revelation that the victory belongs to the slain and risen Lamb, Jesus Christ. He has defeated Satan already, and will finally and forever conquer him, sin and death at the end of the age. This is why we can endure the darkness, church! This is why we can continue holding fast to the testimony of Jesus and keep God’s words. Jesus is standing in the midst of his church (Rev. 1), and he is victorious! The darkness around is not in us! The Light has come (John 8:12). By his Spirit who lives in us, we are the light of the world (Matt. 5:14)! Just as I said earlier, it would make no sense for the light to huddle together in the same place like some sort of enormous power plant while the rest of the country (or the world) is in darkness. Of course it’s dark here! Before the Holy Spirit opened our eyes, we also walked in darkness. People around us need the light. We need to be a light in the darkness because Jesus has conquered and will conquer at the end, and we want to be found doing our Master’s work.

Another bonus to staying when it’s dark is that God’s glory, goodness, character, power and steadfast love tend to shine out through his people in times of struggle and darkness. Loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us requires being in relationship with our enemies and enduring persecution.

4. We stay because we’ve been given the financial ability to stay.

This is a practical reason, part of discerning God’s call to stay or move. Not everyone can live here. The housing market is pretty ridiculous here, as it is a lot of places. If you don’t make a certain amount, you won’t be able to live here. It’s a reality to consider. On the other hand, we’ve personally experienced and heard stories of God’s provision when income was dramatically below average for this area. For example: we were able to live in West Seattle, newly married, while my husband was a barista for Starbucks and I worked 4 hrs a week as a personal trainer. What we’ve learned is if God calls, He provides.

Another thing to consider is that even though we are financially viable with city living in the PNW, we could easily get more square footage and more perks of higher-class living if we moved elsewhere. I understand the draw; I spent some time on Redfin just yesterday to see the quality of living we would have in another state. It’s tempting to want to increase your standard of living. Yet for us, we get more excited about the opportunities to be generous and do ministry here than to get comfortable in a temporary stopping place just for the sake of status or ease. It’s not what we are called to pursue. It won’t make us happy. All these lesser comforts, fine in their place, are not worthy of our pursuit. Where our hearts are; our wallets follow. And we want to pursue first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.

There are other reasons we stay, but these are four out of the five main reasons. A fifth one is so lengthy it needs its own blog post, but I’ll give you a preview: we believe this is a great place to raise our kids. (Did I just shock our whole homeschool community?!)

Obviously not everyone is moving. Many are planted and committed. I’ve met a few new arrivals who have moved here from California, Texas, and the Midwest. Throughout the last few years, I’ve panicked and repented and understood yet again that God loves this part of the world, as He loves every part of His world, and He is not abandoning us. He is continuing to make the name of Jesus known to all people, as we disciples of Jesus are faithful to proclaim it.

Church, if I could remind you of anything as I close this post, it is this:

God has chosen to do His work through His church. That means you and me. If we assume “someone else will do it”, we’re missing it. If we think someone else will love the struggling neighbor across the street, we’re missing it. If we think someone else is going to be the voice of reason at our child’s school, we’re missing it. As weak, flawed, sinful, and struggling as we are, we need to understand God knows our flaws, and has not recruited us because we’re so amazing. We’re not. He is. It’s His Spirit in us that will accomplish His work, if we would only walk with Him and submit to His leading in our lives.

You may be called to stay where you are. You may be sent elsewhere. If you are going, go with a heart for the lost. Go in good fellowship with the church in the place you are leaving, praying for them as they continue the work of the kingdom. Go in prayer for the people you are leaving and the people to which you are going. Go as God’s ambassador. Go not in search of comfort, but to follow Christ. Go with a heart of willingness to be wherever He calls you to be, however long He calls you to be there.

If you are staying, copy and paste the above, inserting the word “stay” where it says “go”.

This really is the best life of all. I hope and pray it’s yours.

Oh, and if anyone wants to move to the Seattle area to do God’s work here, please come 🙂 We have a place for you.

February 5, 2022

Greetings. Our Master sends you his good wishes, as well as instruction and encouragement. As head over the divisions assigned to families, he wishes you to know that overall, your efforts are most definitely having an impact. Primitive though they may be, you mentioned statistics in your last communication. I disagree with using them as a measurement for our success, as they tend to be unreliably skewed, incomplete, and limited; yet I have grudgingly found they have a place. Without going into details, yes, the divorce rate has been falling slightly, along with the number of marriages. Cohabitation is still quite popular. Though the average length of a marriage is around 8 years, the divorces in older couples continues to climb. Even though these divorces are late, we may still celebrate this as a win, as it has the power to greatly affect the younger generations of the affected families. Better late than never, I believe some humans are fond of saying.

Enough about the statistics. Obviously your division has many facets to it, and not every facet is under your control. I want to reassure you that our Master knows this, and is only holding you responsible for existing families with children in the home. Rawmooth is overseeing the younger generation and working specifically to discourage marriage, to redefine it. In doing so, the hope is that we can so change its likeness from our Enemy’s original intent for marriage. We are hopeful that soon this goal will be realized. Soon, by our hard work and our Master’s will, the world will no longer see examples of our Enemy’s ridiculous sentimentality and weakness he calls love. As you are aware, there is a whole other brigade deployed to redefine that four letter word. Though we have much ground to gain, they have had tremendous success in the West recently. I must tell you, I find this particular work to be most enjoyable. It is almost entertaining, how quickly some minds are swayed. Lemmings, I believe the humans call them. Or the herd mentality, if you prefer. Whatever vernacular we use, if an idea becomes popular, we can easily sway thousands. It does not simply take a popular idea, of course, but the combination of a popular idea and demonizing the opposing side will win many. It’s rare now to encounter a deeply questioning mind and openness to another point of view. Thank the Master for that!

But I digress. Back to your specific department of families. Another specific encouragement for your division is technology. I should say the best kind of technology use. We’ve certainly seen over the last 2000 years how our Enemy has a unique and, dare I say, almost unstoppable way of using anything to his advantage, including technology, but do not fear. We have gained ground. Both parents and children are spending more time in front of their screens than ever before. Kids are disconnecting slowly but surely from other people, under the guise of “connecting with others”. A big thank-you to Anwler for birthing that idea. The parents are falling into that trap as well, though I prefer to celebrate with more vigor the victories in the younger generations. They are the ones who will shape priorities, values, laws, and the norms for the next few decades, as well as the next generation they raise up. It’s imperative we continue to pursue them as priority. To that end, since children are most influenced by their parents, it’s a joint effort toward both. Keep up the good work. Children are slowly losing the ability to think critically, to hold lengthy and vital conversation. They are developing addictions of various kinds. They are seeking to be entertained. They are depressed and anxious. You may indeed celebrate, as they are being crippled for our Enemy’s use.

As for the parents, the good news is that they are busier than ever. How easy it is to perpetually keep these humans busy for years, until the damage has been done! Schedules are too full for them to make those deadly connections with their kids. They are reporting less enjoyment of their children, and more stress, worry and strife. Teen rebellion, sex, drug use, depression and suicide is blamed on hormones or circumstances. They don’t yet understand it’s the fruit of the earlier years. Discipline is seen as outdated, cruel, or simply misunderstood, and therefore misapplied or not applied at all. There are some who consistently discipline their children well. This is certainly an issue. However, one good technique to use if you run into that particular family is to send the message to those connected that the family in question simply has “naturally good children”. This keeps the other families from questioning the methods, and keeps the poison contained. You may also play on the theme of individuality, which keeps many Western families from asking for help. Pride is always a good one. It’s humbling to their egos to admit they don’t know what to do, or that their children are running crazy.

Keep the parents busy. Keep them from enjoying their children. Keep them managing the disruptive behavior instead of addressing it. Keep the parents aimed at survival as their highest vision for the family. With luck, that can last you until the teens hit. “I’ll do it later” is a helpful one to plant. Or you may try, “We still have time.” Keep them away from vulnerability and honesty, particularly with their kids. Keep them tied up in whatever forms of twisted normalcy were given them in their youth (harshness, anger, distance, etc). Do your best to encourage those norms to continue, which carries on your predecessor’s work. Keep parents thinking that their children simply need the tangibles like a house, food, and clothes. The intangibles such as love, forgiveness, repentance, time, willingness to listen and change, are deadly to us. Keep them in the material world. When they are tired, push entertainment, distance, or strife. Remember that most people have not connected the dots about the effect of healthy families on society. With luck, good planning and execution on all our parts, they won’t.

One final word about the problem families. I know many of your troops are struggling with those who resist our general onslaught. They are aware of many of our tactics. They are aware of the battle. They are fighting back. They are deep in the Enemy’s counsel. Don’t give up hope. There are still ways to fight. Though the temptation is to lash out, we must remain subtle. It is possible to catch many in the shadows. Even the most watchful parent has their weak spots. Get to know them, and work with them. For example: I’ve had contact with a family whose mother reads the Bible, has entered counseling for her issues, is facing her demon’s influence from the past, and is eager to change. It’s okay if they read these books and take in the Enemy’s words, as long as you keep them away from change. You’ll find adults are resistant to long-term change, much more than children. This woman had just read a book which gave her tools to fight us, and she was planning and scheming on how she would put them to use. I deployed distractions through her children, busyness in the family schedule, illness, and focused on her learned patterns from childhood (one of hers was sitting back and waiting for others to do the work for her). Use the basics and combine them to deal with her energy toward change. The subtle attacks work wonders. Stay consistent. Not many will choose to declare all-out war on us for the long-term, simply because it’s difficult. You’ll find this to be true of many. “Avoidance of pain or discomfort at all costs”. ‘Tis the fruit of immaturity and idols of comfort, among other things.

Pray for our success. Anwler sends his greetings, as does Grewless and Rawmooth. Keep up the good work. Report back soon.

Draglowe

Through my life thus far, one of the things I’m grateful for is relationship with older, wiser women. As it is with many of God’s gifts, He knows what I need when I can’t even articulate it. Often I don’t even know what I need, and yet He gives me his best, even when I don’t ask for it. This is true with the few older women who have taken me under their wing for a season. They have poured into me from the richness of decades of walking with Jesus. Long before I met my husband, I was showered with jewels from the marriage treasure chest of one such woman, who had mined them in the decades of her own marriage: how important forgiveness is, some keys to a healthy sexual relationship with your husband, why respect is such a big deal, and many more. Another gift of a woman has helped me navigate significant conflict, parenting struggles, the power of prayer, and shown me what it looks like to be Jesus’ witnesses wherever we go. My mother has been one such woman as well, showing me the value of a soft heart to the Lord and perseverance through trials.

I could elaborate on these lessons for another few hours. The point I want to make is this: all the older women I have aspired to be like, who have the kind of character I want, who live imperfectly, yes, and also honorably, boldly, humbly, sacrificially, with faith, joy, love and purpose, the kind of women you want to follow around and ask them questions because good things spill out of them every time they talk to you, all those women I have had the pleasure to meet have one significant thing in common. They are women of God’s word. They have spent decades of time growing in their understanding and grasp of Scripture. I don’t mean the type of legalist who reads her Bible because “it’s the right thing to do”. To be real, they certainly have had their seasons of dryness in their walk with God. However, it’s not only habit or duty with these women. No, these women are saturated with God’s word because hearing His voice and being with him is their life and breath. They love their God, and so they spend time with Him. They want to listen to Him. They have grown to depend on Him to the point where His words are more precious to them than fine gold. Though there are multiple ways God speaks, the most clear way He does is through His words – the Bible. These sages, these wise women know this. They memorize His words. They think about them. They study them. They hear God speaking to them because they’ve spent decades listening to Him. And they don’t only listen; they obey. God’s words are their ultimate authority. I see it in their lives. When they come to a part of Scripture that really presses them the wrong way, they don’t skip past it or ignore it and move on. They don’t say, “Well, I know God’s right, but I don’t like it, so I’m doing it my own way”. No, they stay there and ask God to teach them and shape them. They bring their struggle with that particular verse or idea to God. They let God use His word to work on their hearts and change them. They have done and are doing the hard work of submitting to God when it’s hard. You see the results of this dedication over time. When they are approached by others (like me) who are lost, confused, struggling and seeking counsel, they give wise and good counsel because it’s not theirs; it’s God’s. They pass it on, because they’ve come to know how trustworthy and precious His words and truth are.

The concept is so simple: the more you spend time with someone or something, the more of an expert we are on that person or that topic. It’s how we learn. It’s how we grow. How many of us Christians are experts on our favorite topic, and fledglings in our faith? If we were to catalogue our thoughts and meditations during the day, of what or who are we becoming an expert? On what do we meditate? Who do we pursue? How do we spend our time?

At the end of the day, there is grace for us. We’ve all fallen short and used our time poorly. We can always and will always have opportunities to grow in our relationship with God our Father, Jesus, and His Holy Spirit. God knows this, too, and He extends us grace. This grace is one that both cleanses us from our unrighteousness, covers us in Jesus’ righteousness, and purifies our desires to help us change now. It’s not continual forgiveness and cleansing so we can continue in sin or poor choices. God gives us grace that transforms death to life. Romans 8:11 hit home to me years ago when I felt I was stuck in my sinful habits: “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.”

The power to change is not ours. It’s the Spirit of God who brought Jesus from death to life. He can easily transform any heart from apathetic, lukewarm, or flat-out rebellious to one of humility, repentance, and passionate love for God. After all, He’s the one who loves us “with a never-stopping, never giving up, unbreaking, always and forever love” (Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones).

That’s what I have loved about getting to know these women. They don’t look like the world. They look like Jesus. It may take decades for us to resemble him in that way, to become a sage in the ways of God. That’s okay. Why not start now? Do we have something better to do?

This post is for mothers. Mothers, I want to encourage you. Though I do not want to elevate the role of motherhood to the highest ultimate good a woman can do (I don’t believe that’s true), I also personally know the tendency to lose sight of what we’re doing and why we are doing it, particularly if you have younger kids at home. If you have a few minutes, read on. I wish this could be a conversation together with a cozy warm beverage and a quiet, calm atmosphere. Let’s work with what we have! Pull up a chair and possibly a baby, tell the kids not to destroy the house or each other, and let’s talk 🙂

As some of you may know, I’m a stay-at-home mom. There are days when I am rejoicing in that role, and days when I question why I ever wanted to have and homeschool four children. If you could take a peek into our home, one day you might see me eagerly helping little people learn how to clean up after themselves and how to apologize after hurting someone…..then the very next day you might see me yelling in frustration at the same children because they are children and happened to spill the milk. Again. Specifically after I told them not to. Most assuredly, I am a flawed parent and a work in progress! Yet, in the rare quiet moments, when I take a step back from the busy work and consider my role in light of what’s important in this short life, I am honored and humbled to be called to such a valuable, desperately needed, hugely impactful role of raising children.

Walking through a store the other day, I noticed a sign with a quote from Mother Teresa. It said, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”

Do I exaggerate? Does Mother Teresa? Is motherhood really that important? Today, for example, I heard a small, nagging voice, insisting that what I was doing by staying home with my kids was not worth my time.” It is not worth the investment of your time and energy”, says the nagging voice. “No one is noticing what you are doing. Who knows how many diapers you’ve changed? This is what your college education is going toward? By the time you’re finished with homeschooling these four kids, your youth will be gone. You should not spend the best years of your life on these kids, who aren’t even grateful for the sacrifices you’re making. Wouldn’t it be better for the world if you put your time and energy and gifts toward bigger and better things? Particularly visible things, where you get some verbal feedback and praise and notice for what you’re doing? See how much effort you put in and how no one notices, or even cares? That’s not life, my friend. Hire someone else to change the diapers and clean the kitchen for the 100,000,000th time, and get on to the really important things of life before it’s too late.”

Deep down, I know the nagging voice is lying. It’s not true. Deep down, I have great assurance from God that this role he’s given me is worth it. These young ones are going to grow up, God willing, and they need someone not just to provide for their physical needs, but to actually raise them. I get to teach them what is good and right and true and beautiful. I get to teach them how to love other people, particularly those who are different from them. I get to teach them how to learn, and how amazing it is to always be learning. They get to see me struggle, so they understand it’s normal to make mistakes and not be perfect the first time you try something new. I get to hug them, read to them, be a consistent presence to them (which is a hugely valuable gift and one they may not be able to verbalize to me until well into their adult years). I get to behold the beauty and majesty of God, and invite my children to behold Him, too. I get to bask in His beauty, and show it to them again and again. I get to teach them God’s words while they’re young. I get to show them what it looks like to depend on Jesus for my daily bread over and over (and over!) again. I get to model repentance so they understand what living in dependence on the good news of Jesus looks like. Again, when I stop to remember what God says, not the nagging voice, I see afresh that this calling of motherhood is so worth it.

As an added bonus, not only is motherhood a blessing to my kids, it’s a blessing to me! How I have been shaped and molded and tried and purified in the fires of mothering! Praise God! That’s a whole other blog post.

Mothers, parents. Listen to your Creator. Take hold of those nagging thoughts, lies, temptations, and evil whispers and douse them in the truth. When the family breaks down, society breaks down. Healthy families are one of God’s gifts of grace to the world, whether the world recognizes it or not. The call of parenting is an honorable, world-changing one. Like the sermon series our church has been going through, entitled “Upside Down Kingdom”, the ways of God and the means by which he works are often upside down from what the world thinks and values. World may say what that nagging voice tells me. “If you want to change the world, get out there and do it.” A smaller, insistent, more enduring whisper tells me what Mother Teresa says. “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”

You have been appointed by God as your child/ren’s parent. Though we need to raise our kids in a community, and we all need reinforcements, there is no replacement for you. Remember what a high and holy calling motherhood is. Teach them what is good and right and true and beautiful. Teach them how to love other people, particularly those who are different from them. Teach them how to learn, and how amazing it is to always be learning. Let them see you struggle, so they understand it’s normal to make mistakes and not be perfect the first time you try something new. Hug them, read to them, be a consistent presence to them. Behold the beauty and majesty of God, and invite your children to behold Him, too. Bask in His beauty, and show it to them again and again. Memorize His words, and teach them to your children. Let them see what it looks like to depend on Jesus for your daily bread over and over (and over!) again. Model repentance so they understand how Mommy needs a Savior just as much as they do. I will never be able to do justice in my meager words to all that a mother is and does. But there is One who keeps an account, and He knows. He will reward you one day for what you have done.

Perhaps you are not a mother, but you may relate to work that appears thankless or invisible. If you are one whose daily work or calling appears menial, less important or not as valuable, to anyone whose work is not verbally recognized, rewarded, acknowledged, appreciated, or even seen by another, I want to tell you something. Your work is not hidden. What is done in secret will be known one day. One day, the upside down kingdom of God will burst through all of the dim windows through which we currently view life, and true reality will dawn upon all mankind. It will all become clear. The upside down kingdom will seem upside down no more. It will be the ultimate reality. God’s ways is what we will ALL finally understand as right and good and holy. Every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. And those who have imperfectly but consistently held to God’s ways because He is their treasure will experience great reward. Though no one else sees, God sees you. He is watching. He is keeping an account. He will reward you. Keep on! Do not grow weary of doing good! Galatians 6:9 tells us that we will reap a harvest, if we do not give up. Whatever your unseen role is, do not give up. The same God who made you has died for you, risen for you, and given you His Spirit to empower you and equip you for your work. He is your vine; you are the branch. Abide in Him. And remember, the next time you’re changing a dirty diaper (again), He sees. He sees you. Keep going. A harvest is coming, if we do not give up.

Hebrews 12:1-2

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Luke 12:1-3

In the meantime, when so many thousands of the people had gathered together that they were trampling one another, he began to say to his disciples first, “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. Therefore whatever you have said in the dark shall be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in private rooms shall be proclaimed on the housetops.”

I love talking with my friends who are in the fire. When I hear a friend who is struggling through something hard, I want to come alongside her and help in whatever way I can. In all honesty, also, my ears perk up, and I am eager to hear from them, because I have experienced that through struggle and suffering come lessons, wisdom, intimacy with God; these nuggets of gold that can only be found in the Land of Trial.

I think of the song, “It Is Well” by Horatio Spafford. Written after a tremendously painful loss of his 4 daughters (after the death of his son and a great financial loss in the previous years), that song has been of significant encouragement to Christians who are suffering. That could not have been written unless he had gone through such devastation.

I think of a friend of mine, a wiser older woman who recently shared story after story of God saving people and being at work in her own heart: “Through this last year of trials and pain, I saw God at work in a way I simply would never have seen had I not been in the fire.”

It all sounds good until you’re in the fire yourself.

I’ve been in a pit of darkness for months now, and there’s no sign of it ending. Every day it feels much easier to give up than to keep going. Sometimes getting out of bed is the biggest victory I have to celebrate. Often I am overwhelmed by my circumstances and feelings of despair. And it just doesn’t stop.

Now what? Shall I read a few more inspirational quotes? Another devotional? More of God’s truths that I know I should believe? I’ve asked for prayer. I’ve reached out to friends. I’m reading my Bible every morning. I’m praying as I’m able to. I’m going to church and community group. I’m doing what I know to do, and the darkness just doesn’t lift. Death and isolation and brokenness and pain and deep sorrow seem to be my constant companion. I don’t understand the darkness.

Yet in my darkness, I have hope. From the pit that I have desperately been trying to escape for months, I know I am not alone, and never have been. I am more aware of God’s presence with me than I ever have been. And almost every day, I have heard God telling me, “It’s okay that you are struggling.” He’s been telling me that I need to stop trying to escape the darkness, but cling to Him in it, because He is working in my suffering.

So from the pit, I want to share something God has been putting in my heart. To my friends who I know are struggling, I hope this is encouraging to you. Here’s one of my “nuggets of gold” from the Land of Trial.

God, whatever the purpose, whatever the reason, you foresaw today and you said yes to all my circumstances. Just like you said yes to Noah’s years of building an ark in a desert among scoffing of the people around him. Like you said yes to Abraham & Sarah’s life of infertility. Like you said yes to Joseph’s years of slavery and wrongful treatment. Like you said yes to Jeremiah’s life of obedience to your word causing him persecution and suffering. Like you said yes to David’s years of being pursued by Saul intent on killing  him after you had him anointed as the new king of Israel. Like you said yes to Job’s children, household, and livelihood being wiped out in a day, followed soon by his health. Like you said yes to Lazarus dying. Like you said yes to Jesus’ suffering.

It is in our fleshly nature to focus on the suffering, to get tunnel vision on what’s painful at the time. In our tunnel vision, we tend to do two extremes: 1. seek only to escape it, to make the pain stop as soon as possible, or 2. we tend to wallow in it, focusing on how we feel, what we need, how awful it is for us. I’ve done both often in the last few months. I understand. Yet the more I read my Bible, the more God is opening my eyes to see suffering in the context of the greater story He has revealed in Scripture and is continuing to write in our lives. Sin, death, destruction, wrong, and suffering feel like they have the upper hand. However, because of Jesus perfection, life, death, and resurrection from the dead, all sin and suffering are bent to do God’s will in the life of the believer. Romans 8:28 – one of the most comforting promises of God given to us this side of heaven: “And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good , for those who are called according to his purpose.” All things, friends! All evil! All suffering! All death! All wrong-doing! Consider the people referenced above. They have gone before us, their lives written down in God’s word for us. Consider their suffering, and since we have the benefit of knowing more of the story, consider also the result of their suffering. Abraham & Sarah had no idea why they couldn’t have children, why Sarah had to bear so much reproach for not being able to conceive, why they had no heir and no children to care for them in their old age. Yet now we know that God intended it. He intended Sarah to be well past menopause, physically unable to have children, with Abraham so old. God waited until it was abundantly clear that Abraham and Sarah could not have children themselves. They could not do it. God intended their circumstances and years of suffering to set up a pivotal, incredibly vital display of His glory through His story of redemption. With Abraham and Sarah’s infertility came the child of the promise: Isaac. Through Isaac shall your offspring be named. Through Isaac will come Jesus. Through Isaac will all the families of the earth be blessed. Through Isaac the Gentiles will come to believe and be saved into God’s family. None of that would have happened had not Abraham and Sarah been able to conceive by natural means. Their years of suffering and sadness were the impetus of God’s saving glory being known to the whole world.

I see it most clearly with Jesus. The ultimate worst evil, killing the perfect Son of God, was the exact way God meant to save us. It’s like God is creating the most beautiful piece of art, and every disgusting, awful, horrendous piece of garbage Satan throws at it, God takes and uses to make His piece of art look even more beautiful than we could ever have imagined. And it’s not a reaction on God’s part. God is not reacting to evil; He is orchestrating it. Satan is under God’s authority. He can do nothing without God’s permission. God is using the evil that He never brought into this world to accomplish His purpose and will, and it is glorious. He has been doing this since Genesis 3, and He will continue to do so until Jesus comes again in glory. He is doing it in my life, and He’s doing it in yours. Take heart, friend. He is using the evil in your life for your good and His glory.

Now, I want to end on the story of Lazarus. I’m sure you know it. Jesus was good friends with Lazarus and his sisters, Mary & Martha. He received word that Lazarus was sick and near death. Instead of rushing to be with him, Jesus stayed where he was a few more days. Seemingly unfeeling at the time, we know from the Word that Jesus wasn’t ignoring His friends. He was staying to ensure Lazarus had died before coming. He knew He would do something greater than healing Lazarus. He would raise him from the dead. He knew God’s glory was going to be shown and people would believe and be saved. He knew Mary and Martha would soon be rejoicing. He knew. And He stayed where He was. He let Lazarus die, because He had something better in mind.

When Jesus finally came to Lazarus’ tomb, He wept. He knew what He was about to do. He knew He had the upper hand over death. He knew tears would be turned to gladness in moments. Yet He wept. Friend, it shows no lack of faith in God as you weep through your trials and sorrows. Jesus did it. You, too, are free to weep. I am free to weep. This life is so hard, and no one knows that better than our Savior. To my church, to those of you who, like me, are in a pit and can’t see the way forward, it’s okay to weep. It’s okay to have a hard time. It’s okay to grieve. Cry with Jesus. Your tears will be turned to joy one day, but it’s still okay to cry. And a quick word to those of you who want to come alongside your grieving, struggling friends: let them cry. Cry with them. Be with them. Say nothing if you don’t know what to say. Just show up. Be present. They may not need any reminding about God’s truth at that moment. It’s not that you never share God’s truths with them, but too often we share a verse or a truth because we’re uncomfortable with their pain and don’t know how to sit with them in it, so, with good intentions, we try to rescue them from it. They may not need to be rescued from their pit. Right now, they may simply need to weep. Like Jesus wept.