War-Weary

The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.

Exodus 14:14

Well, I sat in front of my computer for a while this week trying to think of what to write about. All of my other posts have launched from prayers, conversations, sermons, any little nugget that has continued to stick around with me through the days. But, this week was different. This week … well, this week I’m tired. I’m not talking just physically tired or mentally drained. I mean soul weary. The kind of exhausted that leaves your heart battered and bruised, nursing its wounds on the couch. This is the tiredness sleep cannot cure. I’m guessing if you have lived long enough you know what I mean. Your eyes are heavy but you aren’t sleepy. You can’t seem to make your body do what it needs to do even though you fed it great nutrition. Joy seems just out of reach and yet somehow present. 

I find myself referring to my soul as “war-weary.” You see, we live in a world at war. Both physically and spiritually there is a battle raging all around us right now. We are fighting to protect ourselves and those we love from getting sick. We are battling to discover a cure or vaccine for an unseen enemy. Some of you are rallying the troops at home as you face canceled graduations, weddings, showers, birthday parties, vacations, and general sadness. You call out the battle cry of joy with half-hearted responses while your own heart is bedraggled and weary. Who would have thought that almost two months of doing “nothing” would leave me so exhausted? 

But, how much war has your soul and mine seen in the past few weeks? Tack these weeks onto decades of spiritual attack and it isn’t surprising I’m weary. I’m not shocked that my little heart just wants to veg out on the couch with some Cheetos and a soda. As Christians, we have daily been faced with the world’s questions of “ Where is your god right now?” “How could a good God allow this?” And on a personal level we ask when God will relieve us from this? When will He allow us to return to normal? We promise to pay attention and learn whatever He is teaching if He will just hurry it up and move us along! (Just me? That’s my whiney promise anytime rough patches occur.) Our eyes consume conflicting information and don’t know what news to believe. We spend our days texting, commenting, calling, and Zooming with friends and family who call on us to encourage their own bedraggled souls. No wonder we are tired. 

Maybe quarantine and this current situation haven’t taken the same toll on you as it has on me but I know you have experienced this kind of “over it.” The kind where you feel numb and like nothing new could phase you. For someone who feels deeply, this is always a sign something is wrong. I wasn’t meant to be a zombie bumping through life. I think my heart gets so tired that it turns off all incoming messages and switches to auto-pilot. It can’t feel anymore because it might just die if it does. 

In a normal season of life, I could rally and push through. But, this season has taken its toll. I’m up to my hips in the mud of spiritual warfare fighting to protect my soul and the souls of those I love from the Enemy’s assault. And, in full transparency, some nights I step out of the battle. I give up. I let Satan whisper his familiar lies to me because it’s easier than fighting. What breaks my heart is to think that others I love probably do the same. It’s crazy to me how that idea is what can often rally my heart. I may not have it in me to fight for myself but I can fight for someone else. In those moments I realize the depth of love Christ displayed on the cross. He didn’t face death for himself, but for me. I am in no way comparing myself to Christ! What I am saying is that He has placed this kind of love in each of us. What an insane gift is that? I get to know the love of Christ and then express it even in the depths of heartache. He allows me to grasp what He did for me by allowing me to love and to suffer. 

My battle is not over but it is already won. The cross conquered the battle that causes my heart to languish. His love for me is the healing balm to my retreating heart. When I am assailed on all sides, He presses in ever nearer. Exodus 14:14 reminds us, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” I am not the commander of this spiritual battle. I am merely a soldier following in the footsteps of an already triumphant king. Why do I let my heart get so bogged down in this war when I know the outcome? Why not fight as if the victory celebration has already begun? I want my heart to know where to run in times of trial but to also live in light of the knowledge that the victory is ours. 

This isn’t my typical blog post but I wanted to have full transparency. How will anyone know to encourage us if we don’t express our struggles? So, this week has been hard. Really hard. And, the reality is that you probably would have never known if I hadn’t confessed it. How many of us are tired of fighting our battles alone? How many of us need reminders to look to the conquering King? If you are tired, I pray you find rest. If you are hiding from the fight, I pray you find the courage to engage. Your heart is worth putting up a fight for––after all, someone has already laid down their life to ransom it. 

Desert Stories

“But then I will win her back once again. I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there.” Hosea 2:14

Each day that passes in this crazy quarantine finds some new method to draw, shove, or punt me back to God. We are all living in a weary wilderness that God has, in His sovereignty, led us into. It isn’t comfortable some days nor is it natural most days; but, it is where He has us for the time being. And, the wonderful part of it all is that we aren’t alone in it. 

Recently, in a midweek connection video for my church, the question was raised to look back and name three God stories that shaped your life. I love moments such as these. Self-reflection is my jam! I know, I know. Most people don’t typically enjoy examining all of their innermost thoughts or moments but it is such fun for me. It’s like putting together a puzzle that the Holy Spirit provides the pieces to. My life puzzle will never be complete this side of eternity but I love to put together the portions I can and see where God is and has been actively working. 

So, I set to thinking and filtering through so many of the defining moments of my life. Some of them were obvious and others I know are still so hidden that I don’t know they are God moments yet. The three I settled on for this post are: the loss of my father, moving to Nashville, and moving home again. I can name many more but these three felt like the right stories for now. 

“No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” Ahh, such a quotable line by Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride, and very fitting for this first God story. Long story short, I grew up with a quadriplegic dad who was my best friend. I lost him when I was 17 years old. If you had asked me before he passed away about my faith, I’m certain you would have received a beautiful Christian answer. I was a Christian––a good girl––but my faith had yet to pierce my soul. Losing my dad sent me into a tailspin. How could a good God do this to me? Why would he allow my dad to be in a wheelchair and then take him away when I was so young? I didn’t just walk away from faith, I slammed and bolted every door and every entrance to my heart. I hated everything to do with God. 

I remember being so exhausted when I would come home from school because I had had to fake my way through a day of smiles and conversations. I would lie in bed, staring wistfully at my newly prescribed sleeping pills wondering if I could take enough to stop feeling. I didn’t want to die, I just didn’t want to exist. Breathing hurt. Thinking was excruciating. And as for feeling, I wanted to run as far away from it as possible. 

I couldn’t tell you what brought me to my knees that night; but, whatever or whoever it was, I am eternally grateful. I was face down on the carpet of my bedroom crying out to whoever would listen. I remember hearing myself tell God that I didn’t want His help, but I knew He was the only one who could help me. I was tired of feeling so broken. I was so tired. The peace that flooded my tattered soul was palpable. It didn’t strip me of my sorrow or mend instantaneously. But, it came like a friend and raised my face to the face of my Maker. 

This was my first desert … and I hated it. What would be clear in hindsight was that this desert did more for my faith than any oasis could have. I learned my God could be my Abba. I found a Savior who wanted more for me than comfort. He would not neglect my sanctification. I understood what it meant to be in the refiner’s fire and that the Refiner himself would always be near. Losing my dad took away the option to worship an earthly example of my Heavenly Father. Hear me and know that I would give anything to spend time with my dad here on earth. There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t think of him or long to be near him. But, I also don’t know who I would be if I hadn’t lost him. I entered the desert uncertain and undesirous of God’s love and emerged with the knowledge that with Christ I could overcome any obstacle in my path. I walked in under the guise that I was alone and left clutching the hand of my ever-present Abba. 

Life had its typical ups and downs between that desert and the next. I went to college, changed colleges, graduated, and panicked like all graduates do when they realize they spent four years and thousands of dollars earning a piece of paper that no one ever asks to see. At 23, I decided God was leading me to move to Nashville. It was just then becoming the happening place for young millennials and all of my college friends were dreaming and making plans to move. Like any determined Type A, I made a plan of attack and forged ahead. I applied for a part-time job at The Grand Ole Opry just to see what would happen. Much to my surprise, I got the job and they wanted me to start in a few weeks. Confessing to HR, “Um … I have nowhere to live,” did not feel like the appropriate statement; so, I hit the ground running. I reached out on Facebook and had a reply within hours from a friend. His family needed someone to house sit for the next six months and I could live there free if I was willing. God to the rescue! 

I moved, got another job, and began my Nashville life. I auditioned for theatre job after theatre job, the main impetus for the move. I was going to get enough points to earn my Actor’s Equity card and then look towards moving to New York. I had callback after callback but never got hired to act. Phone call after phone call with friends who never could find the right time to move to Nashville. I could feel the dreams I had for this time slipping through my hands and I panicked. 

Hadn’t God paved the way for me to move to Nashville? Then why wasn’t He making things happen? In the loneliness and isolation, I retreated to the one place I so often avoided going. I didn’t know what it looked like to have a daily quiet time or even where to begin. All I knew was that God was my one friend and the only other person in the exact spot as me. I treated myself to a leather journal from Barnes and Noble and got to writing. Prayers began as bullet points and lists which eventually turned into letters to my best friend. I learned how to be comfortable praying and talking to God out loud while sipping on a cup of coffee. The more I drew nearer to Him, the sweeter the relationships around me became. I saw friends where once I saw only acquaintances. I found a home church, a bible study group, and a young professionals ministry that would change the way I viewed the church as a young, single woman. My first summer in Nashville was worlds away from my second. Where once there had been loneliness and isolation there was laughter and deep friendship. I had a sweet roommate and one friend who had finally been able to move! 

God had called me into this wilderness to deepen my faith in so many ways. I treasure the Truth that I can be with God and not be lonely. I trust that He called me to Nashville and know it was His sovereignty that never provided what I thought I was truly moving for. He spoke tenderly to me in this desert and I look back with eyes of fondness on my quiet, isolated time. 

Just like I knew God was calling me to Nashville, I also knew when He was calling me away. My roommates were moving, my jobs were changing, and my church community was shifting due to changes in church hierarchy. Everything around me repeated, “It’s time to go home.” One of my dearest friends saw my anxiety to leave the oasis I had found in Nashville. I told her I didn’t want to just give up and go home. In sweet wisdom and words of the Spirit, she asked, “How long do you have to stay to say you tried?” That was it. I knew at that moment that God was telling me to go. I never dreamed that what would be awaiting me at home was … another stinking desert.

I packed up my apartment, said my goodbyes, and returned to my hometown. I told everyone, “I’m not moving back, I’m just moving somewhere I have already lived.” With this mantra, I charged forward applying for jobs, reconnecting with friends, and eager to regain the life I had previously. Funny thing is you can’t go back to what was. I applied and interviewed for great jobs but couldn’t manage to get hired. Friends had moved on with their lives, just as I had, and didn’t have the space or time. For six months, I schlepped all over town searching high and low for a job but couldn’t manage to find one. 

During this time, I had the opportunity to go on another retreat with my young professionals group in Nashville. I sprinted back to their open arms and found a sweet weekend of solace. While I was there, one of our leaders stopped me and asked how life was going. I was honest but tried to remain positive. “It’s just … different,” I confessed. “You’ve changed,” she whispered wisely. “And so have they.” That was it! I had changed and they had changed. My friends had made new friends and new memories I wasn’t a part of––and that was okay. I left that retreat with the realization that although I may be living in my hometown, I was still starting over. 

This six month desert of unemployment and rebuilding taught me to savor my precious time with the Lord. I had hours to read, pray, and study His word. There was no rush to hurry up and do my quiet time because all I had was time! I could serve my mom by helping around the house with projects that had long been avoided. My days were flexible and I could accommodate new and old friendships in ways I never had been able to do before. The tender words of my Abba were wooing me in the desert as they had so many times. 

Each of my deserts is a God story for me. Each of them taught me stillness––something I so desperately need. Each one reminds me that while God will be the one to lead me into the desert, He will not leave me there alone. He will not be silent. My faith would be greatly lacking without these God stories. I rejoice in knowing that these are just a few of the stories and a handful of the deserts I have been through and will go through. These memories and moments give me hope for this current desert we are all experiencing. I can’t wait to hear more stories about how God whispered sweet words to the souls of His beloved children during these days. I know there will be tale after tale exchanged of God’s goodness in the darkness. 

What are your God stories? Where have your deserts been? Maybe, this is the first true desert you have experienced. Or, perhaps, you are a far more knowledgeable pilgrim than I when it comes to desert seasons. Wherever you are, I hope you will stop and ask God to reveal His story to you. Let Him show you how He has called you into the hard places and never left your side. And, once you know these stories, I hope you will share them with other travelers along the way. Sit down and hear their hearts. Hear how our God has won us and wooed us even in the most difficult of days.