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One Offering. Perfect. Sanctified.
The lump appeared right in the middle of my throat. The kind where you swallow hard trying to make it go away, internally fighting against tears. It just sat there stagnant, refusing to move. An intimate reminder that only I could feel, only I was aware of. A silent alert telling me that what I was looking at deserved an emotional response, and was not going to give until it got it.
Thanks Cedarwood for the picture.
I stared at the verse, trying to determine what elicited the knot.
I silently asked Jesus to make His crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection just a little more real to me during Holy week a few seconds earlier. I thumbed through the pages of my bible, I skimming all the funky hand writing that decorated the margins. Some notes written in faint pencil, some in bold pen, none consistent. The lower case a’s flip flopped from having a curve at the top to just a simple circle with a kickstand, and the perfectionist in my squirmed at the sloppiness. In big black sharpie, bleeding through the other pages of my bible on a page in Hebrews I had written,
ONE OFFERING.
PERFECT.
SANCTIFIED.
The A in sanctified had a curve at the top, which probably meant I had written it in high school when I cared about what my hand writing looked like instead of just writing what came naturally. I couldn’t remember why it was so important.
The verse it annotated was Hebrews 10:14, “For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”
I’m not sure what high school me was so moved by in this verse, but adult me was stunned. That’s when then knot appeared, as I tried to decipher what I was feeling. The only way I could fight the lump was to shut my bible quickly like you would when you open a box of something you weren’t supposed to see. “It wasn’t supposed to give me a knot,” I reprimanded God as I blinked a few times and went on with my day.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, though.
All day.
Later I reopened my bible to Hebrews 10. This time I read the whole thing, not just verse 14. Slowly, repeating parts I didn’t grasp right away. I studied with a student mindset, wanting to soak up the knowledge before I sunk into whatever I was feeling. I discovered that the lump wasn’t unwarranted, the passage is incredible.
Hebrew’s 10 is significant, it argues that what Christ did was the only thing to cleanse us from our sins. Not only that, Christ did it once and for all, never having to be repeated.
The law was an endless cycle of sacrifices and offerings that would never satisfy the depth of our sin. In verse 4 it even says that it is impossible for the blood of goats and bulls to take away sins.
But then there was Jesus.
He came, to stop the cycle, and was the only one that could.
“He does away with the first (the law) in order to establish the second. And by that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once and for all” (verses 9-10)
Our sanctification is through the act of the sacrifice of Jesus. His life and His resurrection.
What makes verse 14 throat knot worthy is that it tells us where our identity lies. His death on the cross put us in the perfect position before God. We’re able to be sanctified, but what does that even mean?
Charles Spurgeon says that sanctification can be defined two different ways. The first being that we are sanctified through God the Father, set apart before the foundation of the world. The second being that we are sanctified through the Holy Spirit’s daily work in our lives as He subdues our corruption and imparts grace to lead us onward. In the case of this particular verse, Spurgeon explains that the definition of sanctification is both. We’re set apart by God the Father, and renewed daily by the Holy Spirit, and this is only able to happen because of the sacrifice of the cross.
Through His one perfect offering Jesus broke the cycle to break us free of sin that the law couldn’t, giving us the ability to grow and draw near to the Father.
Once Lizzie McGuire asked Ethan Craft what he did to make his hair so great. Ethan looked back at her and explained that when the shampoo bottle said to rinse and repeat, he didn’t repeat. He only washed his hair once. Lizzie stared back blankly at Ethan, because his answer wasn’t as complex as she was expecting.
When someone asks me where my identity comes from, my joy, strength, my whatever, I can answer kind of like Ethan Craft. It comes from Jesus who died on the cross, once and for all. What the law couldn’t satisfy, He did. No rinsing or repeating necessary. While there is so much in my life that feels complex, that isn’t. The Gospel isn’t.
It was one offering, perfected, and we were sanctified.
Got a lump in your throat yet? Or is that just me?
Feeling Inadequate?
Oh cool, me too.
(This has nothing to do with the topic, but I read somewhere blogs need visuals.)
If I’m being unashamedly honest with you, I have been wrestling with so much insecurity these past few weeks.
I’m not smart enough.
I’m not pretty enough.
I’m not (fill in the blank) enough.
Let’s just make a pact right now. If you hear me, or I hear you start a sentence with “I’m not” and end it with “enough” can we promise to just stop each other? Life just is hard already, let’s not add self deprecating talk into the mix of things.
The thing about insecurity is that it breeds more insecurity. It unsettles me, takes away any stability or support that I have. I start feeling off balance. When I’m feeling off balance, I do weird things that aren’t true to myself. I over react, over analyze, over confront, over dramatize, over think, I over compensate in an attempt to fill the hole of whatever I feel I’m lacking that is causing the insecurity.
So where does my insecurity stem from?
Why do I let it grow into more and more?
For me, insecurity all comes down to an identity thing. When I begin to feel insecure or unsettled it’s probably because I’ve placed my identity in something other than the Gospel (I think I heard someone say that, but I googled it and couldn’t figure out who). I’m not remembering that my ultimate worth isn’t in things that I perceive as making my life full, but instead it is in who Jesus says I am which is lovable and valuable and redeemable. He knows my whole heart, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Brennan Manning says, “When I go to church I can leave my white hat at home and admit I have failed. God not only loves me as I am, but He also knows me as I am.” It’s that concept of being fully known, and fully loved. It’s so freeing knowing that God see’s the depth of my depravity on the inside more than anyone else in my life, yet at the same time loves me more than anyone else in my life. I don’t have to impress Him, because I can’t and that’s totally ok. Manning continues, “Because of this I don’t need to apply spiritual cosmetics to make myself presentable to Him. I can accept ownership of my poverty and powerlessness and neediness”
My insecurity looks like me trying to apply spiritual cosmetics to the areas that are breaking out in my life. I can’t control them, so I’m gonna try to cover them up and forget that they are there. The thing about cover up though, is it’s eventually gonna wash off and everything is going to be exposed. It’s those reactions to the exposure that is going to define me as a person, that’s going to test on where my identity lies and how much I am going to look to Jesus instead of just trying to scrounge up more cover-up.
I read this book called So Long Insecurity. Embarrassingly enough I was too insecure about reading a book about insecurity that I took the book sleeve off it so nobody would know. My girl Beth (I met Beth Moore once for 30 seconds, so she is my girl and we’re on a first name basis) defines insecurity as not being secure. An earth shattering concept, huh? But it actually is!
It’s comforting because Beth says that all you have to do to be insecure is to be born, it’s not a Madi thing, it’s a human thing. It’s a normal struggle we’re all going to have to deal with, whether it’s a seldom or regular theme in your walk. Beth talks about how we combat insecurity by being secure in God, the love he has displayed in us. Insecurity is self preoccupation, not seeing the world around you the way God see’s the world around you. Not leaning into the love God displays and gives, and not giving it or displaying it yourself. It’s a really good read, and I’m pretty sure you can buy a used copy for like $4 on Amazon. So if any of this resonates with you, check it out.
In the end, fighting off my own insecurity comes down to being secure in who God tells me I am, asking Him to grant me security.
“The Lord gives his people strength; the Lord grants his people security.” Psalm 29:11
He gives strength and grants security, I just need to start asking.
Anyone else struggle with this? What helps you refocus on who God says you are? Let’s talk about it!
Beds and Birthdays
When my mom was first diagnosed with cancer 6 years ago, before she started chemo we went sheet shopping. We bought everything luxurious you can buy at Target for a bed. We got high thread count sheets, a temperpetic mattress pad, several different types of pillows, a new comforter with just the right amount of smoosh and crinkle (it’s important), a new duvet cover, and layers and layer of blankets. Honestly, the more layers the better amiright?. The idea was to make her bed a sacred place, since the chemo was going to make her be in it a lot.
After that, bedding kind of became her signature thing. Every bed in our house slowly transformed from being a regular bed to being a dream. My mom had a recipe for coziness, and it was a really good one. Even my college dorm room bed was comfy and cozy.
Not only was her bed the most comfortable, it was an invitation for conversation. We’d climb in bed early on days she didn’t feel good and watch movies, or sit in it in the mornings and plan out our days. So many important life shaping conversations with her took place hanging out in her bed. In the mornings before we’d leave, I would help her make it because, “there is just something about getting into a nicely made bed” (she wasn’t wrong).
Even when things got worse with her health, her bed was still an open invitation. Last year on my birthday we laid in it all day. We watched “You’ve Got Mail”, talked about life, college, relationships, a lot about Jesus, but mostly she slept.
Tomorrow is my birthday, this morning I woke up and intentionally made my bed a little nicer than usual, I can’t think of a better way to end this year than to climb into a nicely made bed. A whole year has passed we laid in her bed and talked. I know our conversations would look so different this year because so much changes in a year.
This past month has been really weird, not filled with meltdowns or hard things, just weird. I’ve felt a little off kilter trying to balance my thought life as I naturally revert to reliving last year. From when she was diagnosed last February to when she passed away was so short. It was filled with so much heartache. I’ve learned that I’m not emotionally intelligent enough to understand why I react the way I do to certain situations, and it’s frustrating that it takes so long for me to process and deal with them.
Today (and tomorrow) instead of feeling weird, I’m trying to remember all the really good memories. Not hospitals and cancer or the fear that encapsulated last February, but who she was and why she was so great. Like her recipe for a cozy bed. Or the million conversations we had in it.
If you knew her, I would love it if you sent me your favorite memory of her (the funnier, the better). Maybe we could consider it a birthday gift, or something?
Quarter Life Crisis
I know that typically you have a quarter life crisis at 25, but I really don’t want to live to be 100, so 22 seems like the perfect time to have mine.
Oh, did I mention I’m gonna be 22 at the end of this month?
Thanks Madly for the picture & the friendship
I love birthday’s. I’m a big proponent for the “birthday week.” Some (my sisters) might say it’s because I love being the center of attention, but I think it’s just because I love celebration. I love making someone feel special, and I love feeling special. I also believe that birthday’s are significant, defining days and moments of your life. I understood that more when I became an aunt. When my niece was born, she changed our family. Holiday’s have been more fun with her around, and facetime has become my favorite pass time (long distance aunt, here). Celebrating her first birthday is going to be so much fun because it’s going to be celebrating how she’s impacted our lives, how full she’s made them, and how much she’s changed us all. Isn’t that what birthday’s are about? Celebrating the impact that someone’s life has had on yours?
I’m always that annoying friend at the birthday dinner who makes everyone tell their favorite memory of the person we’re celebrating. Sentimental and mushy, maybe, but I love it. It’s a moment to pause and reflect. Two of my favorite things.
Pausing and reflecting seemed like a great thing to do today. As I approach another year of life, college graduation, and having no idea what I want to do next. Just a little identity crisis might help figure out what the stink I’m doing with my life. Today I spent a lot of time thinking about the first quarter of my life.
For the most part, I feel like I’ve been stuck at age 16 for awhile. I’m still trying to figure out how to apply eyeliner and make a u-turn without scarring my passengers. To my wiser, blog friends, does that feeling ever go away? Not the ineptitude of eyeliner and driving (well, maybe that too), but the feeling that you are still 5 years behind where you’re supposed to be? Do you ever really feel like a grown up?
On the flip side, I feel like time is flying past me. Turning 16 seems like another lifetime ago as my ambitions and maturity have grown and life moves along so quickly. My dreams have changed significantly, my relationships have grown, and I am not quite as loud or obnoxious as I was. Time has also moved faster, college has flown by way quicker than high school did. Someone told me that a year passes so slowly when you’re younger because it’s a larger fraction of your life. As you get older, the years get shorter because your concept of time does too.
1/11 of your life is a whole lot larger than 1/22.
When that idea landed in my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I get older, time gets quicker.
A lot of times we are told this lie that life is gonna slow down after college (or insert your next milestone here). I am working so hard to complete assignments, work, plan for post-grad, and sometimes the days seem like a long drawn out marathon of just trying to survive, but somehow the weeks are so short. It always seems like it’s Monday, amiright? The reality is setting in that life doesn’t slow down, if anything, I think it speeds up. As life hands you more responsibilities, birthday’s come quicker. Both a good thing and a bad thing.
Life moves so fast just doing regular things, then all of a sudden you’re at your quarter life mark and you have no idea how you got there. I question if I am fully living my life in a way that would bring God the most glory. Does my life and do my ambitions actually reflect the Lord? Am I using the time I have been given to make His name known?
Slow days, quick weeks, fast years.
Then it’s done. Over in a blip. Enter into eternity.
When I read this I felt instantly convicted,
Make me ambitious to please Thee even if as a result I must sink into obscurity and my name be forgotten as a dream. Rise, O Lord, into Thy proper place of honor, above my ambitions, above my likes and dislikes, above my family, my health, and even my life itself. Let me decrease that thou mayest increase, let me sink that Thou may rise above.” A.W. Tozer, The Pursuit of God.
I want the next quarter of my life to reflect that. I want my ambitions, likes, and desires to reflect an awe of my God. When I pause and reflect on my birthday 22 years from now, I want to see myself so differently than I see myself now. I hope the woman I am then reflects a huge God. May my speech, actions, and choices in this next quarter be in line with my God in His proper place of honor.
Has anyone had a quarter life crisis? Have you ever felt the conviction of moving your ambitions to be in line with the Lord? How did you handle it?
Vicki 2, Cancer 1
We used to say things like, “Vicki 1, Cancer 0” because cancer didn’t win the first battle my mom had with cancer.
Then we’d say, “Vicki 2, Cancer 0” because cancer didn’t win the second battle either.
But then, it did, and we stopped saying that. The score changed. “Vicki 2, Cancer 1”. But the cancer got the final point, because it won…like for forever. Cancer beat her.
I’ve struggled a lot with the concept of cancer recently. At first, cancer didn’t bother me. I don’t know why, it was just that my mom was gone and I didn’t really care about the how. Cancer is hard to ignore though. It’s everywhere. Someone’s dad gets diagnosed, someone’s aunt dies from it, little kids are fighting it.
Cancer.
What if I get cancer? Will I want to fight? I watched my mom suffer and die a horrible death from it. I don’t think I could be brave like she was, strong, disciplined, resilient, faithful. She handled it with so much grace, and never used it as an excuse. These thoughts flood my head while I’m at work. At first they’re good thoughts, I’m smiling remembering her character. She was a fighter, and trusted God all the way through, but suddenly I’m clinching my stomach, like you do when you get hit in the gut. My mind starts irrationally communicating to me that it’s inside of me, cancer, it’s growing as I sit there. How weird of a feeling it must be, to have something growing on your bones, in your spine, that is actively trying to kill you. My posture changes to be a little more tense, is this that feeling? This feeling in my gut? My breath is getting a little heavier, slower almost.
“You are OK. This is not real.” I repeat to myself on the way to the bathroom where I lock myself in a stall to sob loosing all sense of grounding, but sometimes meltdowns just happen when you miss someone a lot.
“Vicki 2, Cancer 55 years of life just vanished”
“Vicki 2, Cancer 34 happy years of marriage over”
“Vicki 2, Cancer 28 years of motherhood finished”
The sobs are getting quicker because cancer won and I couldn’t control it. Nobody could control it. My mom couldn’t. The doctors couldn’t. It just grew, silently, and nobody caught it, nobody noticed.
I haven’t told a lot of people that story of taking cover in a bathroom stall. It’s hard to articulate irrational emotions, because when you feel them they seem so real, but when you’re looking back at them you can’t really comprehend why they did.
Fast forward to me driving alone with the new Passion album playing in the background. I wasn’t really listening to it, I was concentrated on my GPS. A song came on and suddenly I missed my turn. All the feelings from the bathroom stall came rushing back. The same, but different, because this time they were filled with hope.
“The cross meant to kill is my victory…
…The holy Lamb of God, makes us alive again”
Suddenly cancer didn’t win.
Christ came to give us life, and to give it to us abundantly. Meaning He didn’t hold back. The cross meant death, but it stopped meaning death when Jesus was raised from the dead. Everything stopped meaning death. Death was over, done, invalid, defeated, null, void, ineffective. Christ set us free from sin and death. He set you free, me free, and my mom free from death.
I used to sob in worship services where we sang songs about how death lost its sting (it’s a favorite phrase put in a lot of songs, by the way). I would think, it hasn’t. I’m still, very much, feeling the sting. Death hurts, it’s confusing, and I don’t know if you ever fully move past it. Like everything in scripture, it’s not as straight forward as death just losing its sting. We’re still on earth feeling the sting of it, but not as much as we could because there is so much hope within it. Hope because Christ defeated it. We’ll enter into eternity and never feel the sting of it again.
“Vicki ∞, Christ set her free from sin and death and she is no doubt rocking eternity right now, Cancer 0, death is defeated, it has no power for Christ was raised to life”
Cancer might have taken her life, but Jesus left her a beautiful inheritance. Cancer might be the reason she’ll never meet my husband or my kids, but Jesus gave her eternity. Cancer might have won in a comprehendible worldly sense, but Jesus won way before.
“The cross meant to kill is my victory.”
How much freedom is in that?
“The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; You hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant place; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance” Psalm 16:5 & 6
The Sandwich That Changed Everything
Ever been motivated by food?
“If I read 2 paragraphs, I can eat 2 gummy worms”
“When I get to page 6 on this paper, I can go get dinner”
“After this run, we’re getting ice cream”
Please tell me this isn’t just me.
I just got back to school after spending the latter part of my Christmas Break on Cape Cod(it’s not in Cape Cod, FYI) with some of the best of friends. While I could write a post on all the seafood I ate on the Cape, I really just want to talk about the sandwich that changed everything.
One of the days I was there we ventured to Boston for the afternoon. A combination of American history, Fever Pitch, and this show on ABC Family called Chasing Life had me itching to explore the city. It did not disappoint. We stepped foot on Harvard, visited the Boston harbor (wish I had brought tea to throw in, just for solidarity sake), and walked around Beacon Hill. We shopped a lot, ate a lot, and laughed a lot.
Acorn St. is the most charming, and everyone should go visit.
We went to this little Cafe in Somerville called the 3 Little Figs. My inner creative was beaming because their branding was awesome. Their logo of 3 figs was subtly hinted around the petite cafe. The gold hanging light fixtures, bright white cabinets, and cobalt blue accents made me want to plop on down and attend to some serious work I’m sure I had.
All this before I even tasted the sandwich.
I ordered “The Village” with my very slight southern draw people from New England were fascinated by, and hoped I would like it because usually I’m not a fan of bird food and crave a side of fries. “The Village” was layered on 7 grain with roasted sweet potato, arugula, goat cheese, sun dried tomatoes, honey, and just the right amount of olive oil.
Wish I would have taken a better picture for you.
Didn’t know my life would be changed by it.
Each of my friends had ordered the same sandwich, which seemed embarrassing while we ordered, so I pushed myself to the front of the line in an attempt to cure my insecurity of being a copy cat. It became less embarrassing when I tasted how good it was, then noticed something in the conversation. We were all inspired. Suddenly the talk went from being how good the sandwich was to bigger things. Bigger dreams.
We talked about how it would be the perfect sandwich to bring to our dream jobs we landed after school, and how maybe we should eat healthier in general. That led to budgeting, meal planning, and saving money for things we were passionate about. We talk about how you can do so much without complicating things. The ingredients were relatively simple, but there was a certain amount of creativity behind pairing goat cheese and honey. It just worked.
We all slunk back into our seats filled with satisfaction,”This sandwich is changing my life. I feel motivated”
We laughed, finished our conversations, and our sandwiches. One of the girls grabbed a take out menu to remember the sandwich, maybe make a scrapbook about it later, and we were off, fueled for the rest of our exploration.
I know it’s silly, but I haven’t quit thinking about that sandwich since I ate it. Partly because it was delicious, partly because I was so intrigued by how the conversation shifted with it. Something new, different, and inspiring occupied everything we discussed, and set a tone of “we can do anything because we have full bellies, full hearts, and a fresh outlook on the regular lunch sandwich so let’s explore Boston”
Sometimes I need a fresh outlook, or a new unique perception on life to get inspired. That sandwich inspired me to eat healthier, and try things I wouldn’t normally try because I had a successful experience doing both.
Ridiculous, I know.
With the new year I want to be kinder. Like, genuinely kind. Not kind because I feel obligated, not kind because that is what is expected of me, but kind because I am viewing people in a new way and want to be.
I’ve already struggled with it, because let’s be honest with ourselves, sometimes loving people is hard. Thankfully we don’t only get a chance to better ourselves with a new year, but we are graciously extended new mercies e v e r y s i n g l e m o r n i n g.
I’m trying to remind myself that the ingredients of kindness aren’t necessarily that complex, maybe it just takes creativity in how I approach the way I see people. Take them for who they are, and whatever weird combination of flavors they have to offer. I’ll probably like it.
All because of a sandwich. Hey, whatever works, yanno?
Anything silly ever inspire you? I wanna hear! Also anyone up for moving to Beacon Hill with me??
Chapped Lips
I told my sisters over Thanksgiving break that my dream post-grad situation would be to live in a house in a cul de sac with them as my neighbors. One was completely down, the other was unsure of the proposition. If you know my sisters, I’ll let you determine who is who.
Thanksgiving was full of so many emotions, and very chapped lips. I strategically put chapstick around the house, in car cup holders, jacket pockets, because at no point would I not need to reapply some moisturizer on my lips within a 10 minute period of time. The struggle was so real.
I know this sounds silly, but I kept thinking about a verse in Matthew every time I reapplied chapstick. It’s in the beatitudes, when Jesus says, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for Righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” (Matthew 5:6). Something about the endless struggle to hydrate my lips made me contemplate what it meant to thirst for anything, especially righteousness.
Something that strikes me in that verse is Jesus isn’t saying, Blessed are the righteous, for they shall be satisfied, instead He said the ones who thirst for it will be satisfied.
Half the battle is identifying that there is a need. I have a need (thirst) for moisture (righteousness), and only lip balm (Jesus) can satisfy the need. See the similarities? Yes?
It seems weak to recognize that you need something, and it is humbling when you realize that only one thing can satisfy that need, and I’m not talking about chapped lips. When I thirst for righteousness, I’m acknowledging that I’m not perfect (ouch), I need to pursue more holiness (ugh), and that there is only one source of satisfaction (and it’s not the opinion of people or whatever I’m pursuing for satisfaction on that particular week). Thirst is a vulnerable state, and it requires to bow low and hold tight to the promise that confession will bring forward satisfaction. The thing is, He will always satisfy, and we will be filled up to the brim. Spurgeon says, “God will fill them; and when he fills men with his fullness, they are full indeed”
Indeed.
How do you thirst for Righteousness?
11 Reasons You Should Be Listening To Michael W. Smith Right Now
Maybe it’s nostalgia, I don’t know, but I cannot get enough of Michael W. Smith lately. “Worship” and “Worship Again” defined my childhood. Every time someone talks about Louisville, I immediately think, “Helllllllo Louisville, Kentuckyyyyy” (see “Worship Again” track 1 if you didn’t get that reference). My mom played those CDs a million times and when those songs fill the room I picture my parents on road trips going after God in the front seats.
The best memory ever, huh?!
This is possibly my way of refusing to face reality that graduation and adulthood are quickly approaching, so I’m just reverting back to my comfort zone of being 8 in the backseat of our red Astro van. I’m gonna keep filling my life with his songs until my roommate forces me to stop. Before that happens, I compiled a little list to convince her to keep letting him fill our little space with worship.
Thus, eleven reasons you should be listening to Michael W. Smith right now
- If you grew up in church, you’ll know every single word.
- And if you didn’t, he gives you a heads up on what lyric is coming next.
- The “W” stands for Whitaker.
- Step By Step
- He’s like 60, a boy, and his hair is still better than mine will ever be.
- You Are Holy (Prince of Peace)
- He’s friends with Bob Goff
- Whether you realize it or not, he has probably influenced your walk with the Lord either directly or indirectly. That’s just really cool.
- The Wonderful Cross
- His Instagram game is strong
- He’s gonna be in Greensboro on Dec. 19th and I need a buddy to go with (This could be you?!)
Anybody else grow up to Michael W. Smith?
September 12th
This week has been marked by sulking. A lot of sulking.
I felt this pressure of September 12th encroaching. The idea of it made me want to curl up into a ball and cry, and if I’m being honest I did. I think there is this tension in life in regards to time, we all want it to move forward while simultaneously wishing it would stop and stand still so we can just catch our breath. September 12th marks 6 months since my mom left this world to be with Jesus. It feels like 6 months, 10 years, and 3 days all at the same time.
Everyone says the first year is the hardest, its full of almost all the firsts. I think that I’ve had this underlying thought that as the first year disappears so will the pain and heartbreak.
“Ok,” I think, “Just move forward and all the sadness will be behind me”
But here I am, halfway through the first year and the pain hasn’t lessoned. Maybe I’ve learned how to cope with it, learned how to navigate through the new normal, but by no means has the pain disappeared.
Then the confusion hits, y’all, because I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Mads, you exude so much joy” or “Your strength is so inspiring” and I feel like a hypocrite because I’m not strong and I’m not joyful.
I sulk.
When I tell my story to someone who doesn’t know it, we both leave the conversation overwhelmed. These past 6 months have been dark and heavy, and somehow I’m supposed to find joy in it. How am I supposed to find joy in it? How do I find joy in this?
Then I stumbled upon this,
“The secret is Christ in me, not me in a different set of circumstances” (Elisabeth Elliot).
I’ve heard Phil. 4:13 a million and one times, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” but I’ve always ignore the verses before that, when Paul tells us to be content in all circumstances, in plenty and hunger, abundance and in need. In verse 13 Paul is giving away the secret to contentment in any circumstance. The mind blowing answer that we all struggle to understand is actually pretty simple, it’s Christ. That verse isn’t a promise that God’s going to bless you through whatever you do simply because Christ lives in you, but it’s a call to obedience and a promise that He will provide for whatever strength I need to walk through whatever it is I’m walking through.
I think that sometimes, sulking is ok, and that I shouldn’t feel like a hypocrite when I don’t always feel joyful because it’s a testament that I have nothing good in me. When people see me exuding joy, or comment on my strength, they’re not seeing me they’re seeing Christ in me. Anytime I have had joy these last 6 months is only because of Christ who gives me strength.
My joy isn’t circumstantial, my joy is Christ, what a freeing concept.
Smile, Mads 